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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/37204-0.txt b/37204-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..04cfd79 --- /dev/null +++ b/37204-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9294 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ranchman, by Charles Alden Seltzer + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ranchman + +Author: Charles Alden Seltzer + +Illustrator: P. V. E. Ivory + +Release Date: August 25, 2011 [EBook #37204] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RANCHMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: CARRINGTON LAUGHED JEERINGLY. (Page 268)] + + + + + THE + RANCHMAN + + BY + CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER + + AUTHOR OF + THE BOSS OF THE LAZY Y, + FIREBRAND TREVISON, + THE RANGE BOSS, ETC. + + FRONTISPIECE BY + P. V. E. IVORY + NEW YORK + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS + + Made in the United States of America + + + + + Copyright + A. C. McClurg & Co. + 1919 + + Published September, 1919 + + _Copyrighted in Great Britain_ + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I Concerning Dawes 1 + II Slick Duds 14 + III The Serpent Trail 20 + IV The Hold-Up 26 + V The Unexpected 36 + VI A Man Makes Plans 51 + VII The Shadow of the Past 59 + VIII Concerning “Squint” 66 + IX A Man Lies 75 + X The Frame-Up 86 + XI “No Fun Fooling Her” 91 + XII Lifting the Mask 106 + XIII The Shadow of Trouble 113 + XIV The Face of a Fighter 128 + XV Gloom—and Plans 142 + XVI A Man Becomes a Brute 153 + XVII The Wrong Ankle 172 + XVIII The Beast Again 186 + XIX The Ambush 193 + XX A Fight to a Finish 200 + XXI A Man Faces Death 212 + XXII Looking for Trouble 218 + XXIII A World-Old Longing 225 + XXIV A Death Warrant 232 + XXV Keats Looks for “Squint” 238 + XXVI Keats Finds “Squint” 245 + XXVII Besieged 254 + XXXIII The Fugitive 259 + XXIX The Captive 264 + XXX Parsons Has Human Instincts 270 + XXXI A Rescue 277 + XXXII Taylor Becomes Riled 284 + XXXIII Retribution 290 + XXXIV The Will of the Mob 304 + XXXV Triumph at Last 315 + + + + +THE RANCHMAN + + + + +CHAPTER I—CONCERNING DAWES + + +The air in the Pullman was hot and, despite the mechanical contrivances +built into the coach to prevent such a contingency, the dust from the +right-of-way persisted in filtering through crevices. + +Even the electric fans futilely combated the heat; their droning hum +bespoke terrific revolutions which did not materially lessen the +discomfort of the occupants of the coach; and the dry, dead dust of the +desert, the glare of a white-hot sun, the continuing panorama of waste +land, rolling past the car windows, afforded not one cool vista to +assuage the torture of travel. + +For hours after leaving Kansas City, several of the passengers had +diligently gazed out of the windows. But when they had passed the vast +grass plains and had entered the desert, where their eyes met nothing +but endless stretches of feathery alkali dust, beds of dead lava, and +clumps of cacti with thorny spire and spatula blade defiantly upthrust +as though in mockery of all life—the passengers drew the shades and +settled down in their seats to endure the discomfort of it all. + +A _blasé_ tourist forward reclined in one seat and rested his legs on +another. From under the peak of a cap pulled well down over his eyes he +smiled cynically at his fellow-passengers, noting the various +manifestations of their discomfort. The tourist was a transcontinental +traveler of note and he had few expectations. It amused him to watch +those who had. + +A girl of about twenty, seated midway in the coach to the left of the +tourist, had been an intent watcher of the desert. With the covert eye +of the tourist upon her she stiffened, stared sharply out of the window, +then drew back, shuddering, a queer pallor on her face. + +“She’s seen something unpleasant,” mused the tourist. “A heap of +bleached bones—which would be the skeleton of a steer; or a +rattlesnake—or most anything. She’s got nerves.” + +_One_ passenger in the car had no nerves—of that the tourist was +convinced. The tourist had observed him closely, and the tourist was a +judge of men. The nerveless one was a young man who sat in a rear seat +staring intently out into the inferno of heat and sand, apparently +absorbed in his thoughts and unaware of any physical discomfort. + +“Young—about twenty-seven or twenty-eight—maybe thirty,” mused the +tourist; “but an old-timer in this country. I wised up to him when he +got aboard at Kansas City. Been a miner in his time—or a cow-puncher. +I’d hate to cross him.” + +Among the other passengers were two who attracted the attention of the +tourist. They occupied the seat in front of the young man. + +One of the two, who sat nearest the window, was not much older than the +young man occupying the seat behind him. The tourist guessed his age to +be around thirty-five or thirty-six. He was big, almost massive, and had +lived well—as the slightly corpulent stomach revealed. Despite that, +however, he was in good physical condition, for his cheeks glowed with +good healthy color under the blue-black sheen of his fresh-shaved beard; +there was a snapping twinkle in his black eyes, which were penetrating +and steady; and there was a quiet confidence in his manner which told +that he knew and appreciated himself. He was handsome in a heavy, +sensuous fashion, and his coal-black hair, close-cropped and wavy, gave +him an appearance of virility and importance that demanded a second +look. The man seated beside him was undersized and ordinary-looking, +with straight, iron-gray hair and a look of having taken orders all his +life. The tourist set his age at fifty-five. + +The girl was of the type that the tourist admired. He had seen her kind +in the far corners of the world, on the thronged streets of cosmopolitan +cities, in isolated sections of the world—the self-reliant, quietly +confident American girl whose straight-in-the-eye glance always made a +man feel impelled to respectfully remove his hat. + +She was not beautiful, but she was undeniably good-looking. She was +almost tall, and the ease and grace of her movements sufficed to convey +to the tourist some conception of the symmetrical lines of her figure. +If her features had been more regular, the girl would have been plain; +but there was a slight uptilt to her nose that hinted of piquancy, +denied by the quiet, steady eyes. + +A brown mass of hair, which she had twisted into bulging coils and +glistening waves, made the tourist wonder over her taste in that +feminine art. + +“She knows what becomes her,” he decided. + +He knew the two men seated in front of the young man were traveling with +her, for he had seen them together, with the older man patting her +shoulder affectionately. But often she left them with their talk, which +did not seem to interest her, while she withdrew to a distant seat to +read or to gaze out of the window. + +She had not seemed to notice either the man of colorless personality or +the young man who occupied the seat behind her friends. If she had +glanced at them at all it was with that impersonal interest one feels in +the average traveler one meets anywhere. + +But long ago—which, to be strictly accurate, was when he had entered +the coach at Kansas City—Quinton Taylor had been interested in her. He +was content, though, to conceal that interest, and not once when she +chanced to look toward him did she catch him looking at her. + +Taylor knew he was no man to excite the interest of women, not even when +he looked his best. And he knew that in his present raiment he did not +look his best. He was highly uncomfortable. + +For one thing, the white, starched collar he wore irritated him, choked +him, reddening his face and bulging his eyes. The starched shirt had a +pernicious habit of tightly sticking to him, the seams chafing his skin. + +The ready-made suit he had bought at Kansas City was too small, and he +could feel his shoulders bulging through the arms of the coat, while the +trousers—at the hips and the knees—were stretched until he feared the +cloth would not stand the strain. + +The shoes were tight, and the derby hat—he glowered humorously at it in +the rack above his head and gazed longingly at the suitcase at his feet, +into which he had crammed the clothing he had discarded and which he had +replaced at the suggestion of his banker in Kansas City. Cowboy rigging +was not uncommon to Kansas City, the banker had told him, but +still—well, if a man was wealthy, and wished to make an impression, it +might be wise to make the change. + +Not in years had Taylor worn civilized clothing, and he was fully +determined that before reaching his home town he would resume the +clothing to which he was accustomed—and throw the new duds out of a +window. He reddened over an imaginary picture of himself descending from +the train in his newly acquired rigging to endure the humorous comments +of his friends. Old Ben Mullarky, for instance, would think he had gone +loco—and would tell him so. Yes, the new clothes were doomed; some +ragged overland specimen of the genus “hobo” would probably find them +or, if not, they would clutter up the right-of-way as the sad memento of +a mistake he had made during a fit of momentary weakness. + +As a matter of fact the girl had noticed Taylor. A girl will notice men, +unconsciously. Sitting at her window even now, she was thinking of him. + +She was not aware that she had studied him, or that she had even glanced +at him. But despite her lack of interest in him she had a picture of him +in mind, and her thoughts dwelt upon him. + +She, too, had been aware that Taylor’s clothes did not fit him. She had +noticed the bulging shoulders, the tight trousers, the shoes, squeaking +with newness, when once he had passed through the car to go out upon the +platform. She had noticed him screwing his neck around in the collar; +she had seen him hunch his shoulders intolerantly; she had seen that the +trousers were too short; that he looked like an awkward farmer or +homesteader abroad on a pleasure trip, and decidedly uncomfortable in +the unaccustomed attire. + +She had giggled to herself, then. For Taylor did make a ridiculous +figure. But later—when he had reentered the car and she had looked +fairly, though swiftly, at him as he advanced down the aisle—she had +seen something about him that had impressed her. And that was what she +was thinking about now. It was his face, she believed. It was red with +self-consciousness and embarrassment, but she had seen and noted the +strength of it—the lean, muscular jaw, the square, projecting chin, the +firm, well-controlled mouth; the steady, steel-blue eyes, the broad +forehead. It had seemed to her that he was humorously aware of the +clothes, but that he was grimly determined to brazen the thing out. + +Her mental picture now gave her the entire view of Taylor as he had come +toward her. And she could see him in a different environment, in cowboy +regalia, on a horse, perfectly at ease. He made a heroic figure. So real +was the picture that she caught herself saying: “Clothes _do_ make the +man!” And then she smiled at her enthusiasm and looked out of the +window. + +Taylor had been thinking of her with the natural curiosity of the man +who knows he has no chance and is not looking for one. But she had +impressed him as resembling someone with whom he had been well +acquainted. For an hour he puzzled his brain in an endeavor to associate +hers with some face of his recollection, but elusive memory resisted his +demands on it with the result that he gave it up and leaned back as +restfully as he could with the consciousness of the physical torture he +was undergoing. + +And then he heard the younger of the two men in front of him speak to +the other: + +“We’ll make things hum in Dawes, once we get hold of the reins.” + +“But there will be obstacles, Carrington.” + +“Sure! Obstacles! Of course. That will make the thing all the more +enjoyable.” + +There was a ring in Carrington’s voice that struck a chord of sudden +antagonism in Taylor, a note of cunning that acted upon Taylor +instantly, as though the man had twanged discord somewhere in his +nature. + +Dawes was Taylor’s home; he had extensive and varied interests there; he +had been largely responsible for Dawes’s growth and development; he had +fought for the town and the interests of the town’s citizens against the +aggressions of the railroad company and a grasping land company that had +succeeded in clouding the titles to every foot of land owned by Dawes’s +citizens—his own included. + +And he had heard rumors of outside interests that were trying to gain a +foothold in Dawes. He had paid little attention to these rumors, for he +knew that capital was always trying to drive wedges that would admit it +to the golden opportunities afforded by new towns, and he had ascribed +the rumors to idle gossip, being aware that such things are talked of by +irresponsibles. + +But the words, “Get hold of the reins,” had a sound of craft and +plotting. And there was something in Carrington’s manner and appearance +that suggested guile and smooth cunning. Seething with interest, Taylor +closed his eyes and leaned his head back upon the cushion behind him, +simulating sleep. + +He felt Carrington turn; he could feel the man’s eyes on him, and he +knew that Carrington was speculating over him. + +He heard the other man whisper, though he could not catch the words. +However, he heard Carrington’s answer: + +“Don’t be uneasy—I’m not ‘spilling’ anything. _He_ wouldn’t know the +difference if I did. A homesteader hitting town for the first time in a +year, probably. Did you notice him? Lord, what an outfit!” + +He laughed discordantly, resuming in a whisper which carried to Taylor: + +“As I was saying, we’ll make things hum. The good folks in Dawes don’t +know it, but we’ve been framing them for quite a spell—been feeding +them Danforth. You don’t know Danforth, eh? He’s quite a hit with these +rubes. Knows how to smear the soft stuff over them. He’s what we call a +‘mixer’ back in Chicago. Been in Dawes for about a year, working in the +dark. Been going strong during the past few months. Running for mayor +now—election is today. It’ll be over by the time we get there. He’ll +win, of course; he wired me it was a cinch. Cost a lot, though, but it’s +worth it. We’ll own Dawes before we get through!” + +It was with an effort that Taylor kept his eyes closed. He heard nothing +further, for the man’s voice had dropped lower and Taylor could not hear +it above the roar of the train. + +Still, he had heard enough to convince him that Carrington had designs +on the future welfare of Dawes, and his muscles swelled until the +tight-fitting coat was in dire danger of bursting. + +Danforth he knew slightly. He had always disliked and distrusted the +man. He remembered Danforth’s public _début_ to the people of Dawes. It +had been on the occasion of Dawes’s first anniversary and some +public-spirited citizens had decided upon a celebration. They had +selected Danforth as the speaker of the day because of his +eloquence—for Danforth had seized every opportunity to publicly air his +vigorous voice, and Taylor had been compelled to acknowledge that +Danforth was a forceful and able speaker. + +Thereafter, Danforth’s voice often found the public ear. He was a +lawyer, and the sign he had erected over the front of the frame building +adjoining the courthouse was as magnificent as Danforth was eloquent. + +But though Taylor had distrusted Danforth, he had found no +evidence—until now—that the lawyer intended to betray his +fellow-citizens. Before leaving Dawes the week before he had heard some +talk, linking Danforth’s name with politics, but he had discredited the +talk. His own selection had been Neil Norton, and he had asked his +friends to consider Norton. + +Taylor listened intently, with the hope of hearing more of the +conversation being carried on between the two men in front of him. But +he heard no more on the subject broached by Carrington. Later, however, +his eyes still closed, still pretending to be asleep, he saw through +veiled eyelids the girl rise from her seat and come toward the two men +in front of him. + +For the first time he got a clear, full view of her face and a deep, +disturbing emotion thrilled him. For now, looking fairly at her, he was +more than ever convinced that he had seen her before, or that her +resemblance to someone he had known was more startling than he had +thought. + +Then he heard Carrington speak to her. + +“Getting tired, Miss Harlan?” said Carrington. “Well, it will soon be +ended, now. One more night on the train—and then Dawes.” + +The older man laughed, and touched the girl’s arm playfully. “You don’t +mind it, do you, Marion?” + +The older man said more, but Taylor did not hear him. For at his mention +of the girl’s given name, so soon after Carrington’s pronouncement of +“Harlan,” Taylor’s eyes popped open, and he sat erect, staring straight +at the girl. + +Whether her gaze had been drawn by his, or whether her woman’s curiosity +had moved her to look at him, Taylor never knew. But she met his wide +gaze fairly, and returned his stare with one equally wide. Only, he was +certain, there was a glint of mocking accusation in her eyes—to remind +him, he supposed, that she had caught him eavesdropping. + +And then she smiled, looking at Carrington. + +“One is recompensed for the inconveniences of travel by the interesting +characters one chances to meet.” + +And she found opportunity, with Carrington looking full at her, to throw +a swift, significant glance at Taylor. + +Taylor flushed scarlet. Not, however, because of any embarrassment he +felt over her words, but because at that instant was borne +overwhelmingly upon him the knowledge that the girl, and the man, +Carrington, who accompanied her—even the older man—were persons with +whom Fate had insisted that he play—or fight. They were to choose. And +that they had chosen to fight was apparent by the girl’s glance, and by +Carrington’s words, “We’ll own Dawes before we get through.” + +Taylor got up and went to the smoking-room, where he sat for a long +time, staring out of the window, his eyes on the vast sea of sagebrush +that stretched before him, his mental vision fixed on an earlier day and +upon a tragedy that was linked with the three persons in the coach—who +seemed desirous of antagonizing him. + + + + +CHAPTER II—SLICK DUDS + + +After a time Taylor’s lips wreathed into a smile. He searched in his +pockets—he had transferred all his effects from the clothing in the +suitcase to his present uncomfortable raiment—and produced a long, +faded envelope in danger of imminent disintegration. + +The smile faded from his lips as he drew out the contents of the +envelope, and a certain grim pity filled his eyes. He read: + + Squint: + + That rock falling on me has fixed me. There is no use in me trying + to fool myself. I’m going out. There’s things a man can’t say, even + to a friend like you. So I’m writing this. You won’t read it until + after I’m gone, and then you can’t tell me what you think of me for + shoving this responsibility on you. But you’ll accept, I know; + you’ll do it for me, won’t you? + + I’ve had a lot of trouble—family trouble. It wouldn’t interest you. + But it made me come West. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I don’t know; + but it seemed best. + + You’ve been a mighty persevering friend, and I know you from the + ground up. You never inquired about my past, but I know you’ve + wondered. Once I mentioned my daughter, and I saw you look sharp at + me. Yes, there is a daughter. Her name is Marion. There was a wife + and her brother, Elam Parsons. But only Marion counts. The others + were too selfish and sneaking. + + You won’t be interested in that. But I want Marion taken care of. + She was fifteen when I saw her last. She looked just like me; thank + God for that! She won’t have any of the characteristics of the + others! + + Squint, I want you to take care of her. You’ll find her in Westwood, + Illinois. You and me have talked of selling the mine. Sell it; take + my share and for it give Marion a half-interest in your ranch, the + Arrow. If there is any left, put it in land in Dawes—that town is + going to boom. Guard it for her, and marry her, Squint; she’ll make + you a good wife. Tell her I want her to marry you; she’ll do it, for + she always liked her “dad.” + +There was more, but Taylor read no further. He stuffed the envelope into +a pocket and sat looking out of the window, regarding morosely the +featureless landscape. After a time he grinned saturninely: + +“Looks to me like a long chance, Larry,” he mused. “Considered as a +marrying proposition she don’t seem to be enthusiastic over me. Now what +in thunder is she doing out here, and why is that man Carrington with +her—and where did she pick him up?” + +There came no answer to these questions. + +Reluctant, after the girl’s mocking smile, to seem to intrude, Taylor +sat in the smoking-compartment during the long afternoon, until the dusk +began to descend—until through the curtains of the compartment he +caught a glimpse of the girl and her companions returning from the +dining-car. Then, after what he considered a decent interval, he emerged +from the compartment, went to the diner, ate heartily, and returned to +the smoking-room. + +He had met Larry Harlan about three years before. Harlan had appeared at +the Arrow one morning, looking for a job. Taylor had hired him, not +because he needed men, but because he thought Harlan needed work. A +friendship had developed, and when one day Harlan had told Taylor about +a mine he had discovered in the Sangre de Christo Mountains, some miles +southwestward, offering Taylor a half-interest if the latter would help +him get at the gold, Taylor had agreed. + +They had found the mine, worked it, and had taken considerable gold out +of it, when one day a huge rock had fallen on Harlan. Taylor had done +what he could, rigging up a drag with which to take Harlan to town and a +doctor, but Harlan had died before town could be reached. + +That had been the extent of Taylor’s friendship for the man. But he had +followed Harlan’s directions. + +Sitting in the smoking-compartment, he again drew out Harlan’s note to +him and read further: + + Marion will have considerable money, and I don’t want no sneak to + get hold of it—like the sneak that got hold of the money my wife + had, that I saved. There’s a lot of them around. If Marion is going + to fall in love with one of that kind, I’d rather she wouldn’t get + what I leave—the man would get it away from her. + + Use your own judgment, and I’ll be satisfied. + +It was not difficult for Taylor to divine what had happened to Harlan, +nor was it difficult to understand that the man’s distrust of other men +amounted to an obsession. However, Taylor had no choice but to assume +the trust and no course but to obey Harlan’s wishes in the matter. + +Taylor’s trip eastward to Kansas City had been for the purpose of +attending to his own financial interests, and incidentally to conclude +the deal for the sale of the mine. He had deposited the money in his own +name, but he intended—or had intended—after returning to the Arrow to +make arrangements for his absence, to go to Westwood to find Marion +Harlan. The presence of the girl on the train and the certain conviction +that she was bound for Dawes made the trip to Westwood unnecessary. + +For Taylor had no doubt that the girl was the daughter of Larry Harlan. +That troublesome resemblance of hers to someone of his acquaintance +bothered him no longer, for the girl was the living image of Larry +Harlan. + +Taylor had not anticipated the coming of Carrington into his scheme of +things. For the first time since Larry Harlan’s letter had come into his +possession he realized that deep in his heart was a fugitive desire for +the coming of the girl to the Arrow. He had liked Larry Harlan, and he +had drawn mental pictures of what the daughter would be like; and, +though she was not exactly as he had pictured her, she was near enough +to the ideal he had visualized. He wanted, now more than ever, to +faithfully fulfil his obligation to Larry Harlan. + +The presence of Carrington on the train, coupled with the inference that +Carrington was a close friend of the girl’s, irritated Taylor. For at +the first glance he had felt a subtle antagonism for the man. Yet he was +more disturbed over the mockery in the girl’s eyes when she had looked +directly at him when she had caught him listening to her talk with +Carrington and the older man. + +Still, Taylor was not the type of man who permits the imminence of +discord to disturb his mental equanimity, and he grinned into the +growing darkness of the plains with a grimly humorous twist to his lips +that promised interesting developments should Carrington oppose him. + +When he again looked out of the aperture in the curtains screening the +smoking-compartment from the aisle he saw the porter pass, carrying +bedclothing. Later he saw the porter returning, smilingly inspecting a +bill. After an interval the porter stuck his head through the curtains +and surveyed him with a flashing grin: + +“Is you ready to retiah, boss?” he asked. + +A quarter of an hour later Taylor was alone in his berth, gazing at his +reflection in the glass while he undressed. + +“You wouldn’t have the nerve to think she is interested in you, would +you—you homely son-of-a-gun?” he queried of his reflection. “Why, no, +she ain’t, of course,” he added; “no woman could be interested in you. +You’ve been all day looking like a half-baked dude—and no woman is +interested in dudes!” + +Carefully removing the contents of the several pockets of the despised +wearing apparel in which he had suffered for many days, he got into his +nightclothes and rang for the porter. When the latter appeared with his +huge grin, Taylor gave him the offensive clothing, bundled together to +form a large ball. + +“George,” he said seriously, almost solemnly, “I’m tired of being a +dude. Some day I may decide to be a dude; but not now. Take these duds +and save them until I ask for them. If you offer them to me before I ask +for them, I’ll perforate you sure as hell!” + +He produced a big Colt pistol from somewhere, and as the weapon glinted +in the light the porter’s eyes bulged and he backed away, gingerly +holding the bundle of clothing. + +“Yassir, boss—yassir! I shuah won’t mention it till you does, boss!” + +When the porter had gone, Taylor grinned into the glass. + +“I sure have felt just what I looked,” he said. + +Then he got into his berth and dreamed all night of a girl whose mocking +eyes seemed to say: + +“Well, do you think you have profited by listening?” + +“Why, sure,” he retorted, in his dreams; “I’ve seen you, ain’t I?” + + + + +CHAPTER III—THE SERPENT TRAIL + + +Marion Harlan did not dream of Quinton Taylor, though her last waking +thought was of him, and when she opened her eyes in the morning it was +to see him as he had sat in the seat behind Carrington and her uncle, +his eyes wide with interest, or astonishment—or some emotion that she +could not define—looking directly at her. + +She had been certain then, and still was certain that he had been +feigning sleep, that he had been listening to the talk carried on +between her uncle and Carrington. + +Why had he listened? + +That interrogation absorbed her thoughts as she dressed. + +She had not meant to be interested in him, for she had, in her first +glance at him, mentally decided that he was no more interesting than +many another ill-dressed and uncouth westerner whom she had seen on the +journey toward Dawes. + +To be sure, she had seen signs of strength in him, mental and physical, +but that had been when she looked at him coming toward her down the +aisle. But even then he had not interested her; her interest began when +she noted his interest in the conversation of her traveling companions. +And then she had noticed several things about him that had escaped her +in other glances at him. + +For one thing, despite the astonishment in his eyes, she had observed +the cold keenness of them, the odd squint at the corners, where little +wrinkles, splaying outward, indicated either deliberate impudence or +concealed mirth. She was rather inclined to believe it the latter, +though she would not have been surprised to discover the wrinkles to +mean the former. + +And then she had noted his mouth; his lips had been straight and firm; +she had been sure they were set resolutely when she had surprised him +looking at her. That had seemed to indicate that he had taken more than +a passing interest in what he had overheard. + +She speculated long over the incident, finally deciding that much would +depend upon what he had overheard. There was only one way to determine +that, and at breakfast in the dining-car she interrogated Carrington. + +“Of course, you and uncle are going to Dawes on business, and I am +merely tagging along to see if I can find any trace of my father. But +have you any business secrets that might interest an eavesdropper? On a +train, for instance—a train going toward Dawes?” + +“What do you mean?” Carrington’s eyes flashed as he leaned toward her. + +“Have you and uncle talked business within hearing distance of a +stranger?” + +Carrington’s face flushed; he exchanged a swift glance with the other +man. + +“You mean that clodhopper with the tight-fitting hand-me-down in the +seat behind us—yesterday? He was asleep!” + +“Then you did talk business—business secrets,” smiled the girl. “I +thought really big men commonly concealed their business secrets from +the eager ears of outsiders.” + +She laughed aloud at Carrington’s scowl, and then went on: + +“I don’t think the clodhopper was asleep. In fact, I rather think he was +very wide awake. I wouldn’t say for certain, but I _think_ he was awake. +You see, when I came back to talk with you he was sitting very straight, +and his eyes were wide open. + +“And I shall tell you something else,” she went on. “During all the time +he sat behind you, when you were talking, I watched him, he was +pretending to sleep, for at times he opened his eyes and looked at you, +and I am sure he was not thinking pleasant thoughts. And I don’t believe +he is a clodhopper. I think he amounts to something; and if you will +look well at him you will see, too. When he was listening to you there +was a look in his eyes that made me think of fighting.” And then, after +a momentary pause, she added slowly, “there isn’t anything wrong about +the business you are going to transact out here—is there?” + +“Wrong?” he laughed. “Oh, no! Business is business.” He leaned forward +and gazed deliberately into her eyes, his own glowing significantly. +“You don’t think, with me holding your good opinion—and always hoping +to better it—that I would do anything to destroy it, Marion?” + +The girl’s cheeks were suffused with faint color. + +“You are assuming again, Mr. James J. Carrington. I don’t care for your +subtle speeches. I like you best when you talk frankly; but I am not +sure that I shall ever like you enough to marry you.” + +She smiled at the scowl in his eyes, then looked speculatively at him. +It should have been apparent to him that she had spoken the truth +regarding her feeling for him. + +The uncle knew she had spoken the truth, for she left them presently, +and the car door had hardly closed behind her when Carrington said, +smiling grimly: + +“She’s a thoroughbred, Parsons. That’s why I like her. I’ll have her, +too!” + +“Careful,” grinned the other, smoothly. “If she ever discovers what a +brute you are—” He made a gesture of finality. + +“Brute! Bah! Parsons, you make me sick! I’ll take her when I want her! +Why do you suppose I told her that fairy tale about her father having +been seen in this locality? To get her out here with me, of +course—where there isn’t a hell of a lot of law, and a man’s will is +the only thing that governs him. She won’t have me, eh? Well, we’ll +see!” + +Parsons smirked at the other. “Then you lied about Lawrence Harlan +having been seen in this country?” + +“Sure,” admitted Carrington. “Why not?” + +Parsons looked leeringly at Carrington. “Suppose I should tell her?” + +Carrington glared at the older man. “You won’t,” he declared. “In the +first place, you don’t love her as an uncle should because she looks +like Larry Harlan—and you hated Larry. Suppose I should tell her that +you were the cause of the trouble between her parents; that you framed +up on her mother, to get her to leave Larry? Why, you damned, two-faced +gopher, she’d wither you!” + +He grinned at the other and got up, turning, when he reached his feet, +to see Quinton Taylor, standing beside a chair at the next table, just +ready to sit down, but delaying to hear the remainder of the +extraordinary conversation carried on between the two men. + +Taylor had donned the garments he had discarded in Kansas City. A blue +woolen shirt, open at the throat; corduroy trousers, the bottoms stuffed +into the soft tops of high-heeled boots; a well-filled cartridge-belt, +sagging at the right hip with the weight of a heavy pistol—and a +broad-brimmed felt hat, which a smiling waiter held for him—completed +his attire. + +Freshly shaved, his face glowed with the color that betokens perfect +health; and just now his eyes were also glowing—but with frank disgust +and dislike. + +Carrington flushed darkly and stepped close to Taylor. Carrington’s chin +was thrust out belligerently; his eyes fairly danced with a rage that he +could hardly restrain. + +“Listening again, eh?” he said hoarsely. “You had your ears trained on +us yesterday, in the Pullman, and now you are at it again. I’ve a notion +to knock your damned head off!” + +Taylor’s eyelids flickered once, the little wrinkles at the corners of +his eyes deepening a trifle. But his gaze was steady, and the blue of +his eyes grew a trifle more steely. + +“You’ve got a bigger notion not to, Mr. Man,” he grinned. “You run a +whole lot to talk.” + +He sat down, twisted around in the chair and faced the table, casting a +humorous eye at the black waiter, and ignoring Carrington. + +“I’ll want a passable breakfast this morning, George,” he said; “I’m +powerful hungry.” + +He did not turn when Carrington went out, followed by Parsons. + +The waiter hovered near him, grinning widely. + +“I reckon you-all ain’t none scary, boss!” he said, admiringly. + + + + +CHAPTER IV—THE HOLD-UP + + +After breakfast—leaving a widely grinning waiter, who watched him +admiringly—Taylor reentered the Pullman. + +Stretching out in the upholstered seat, Taylor watched the flying +landscape. But his thoughts were upon the two men he had overheard +talking about the girl in the diner. Taylor made a grimace of disgust at +the great world through which the train was speeding; and his feline +grin when his thoughts dwelt definitely upon Carrington, indicated that +the genial waiter had not erred greatly in saying Taylor was not +“scary.” + +Upon entering, Taylor had flashed a rapid glance into the car. He had +seen Carrington and Parsons sitting together in one of the seats and, +farther down, the girl, leaning back, was looking out of the window. Her +back was toward Taylor. She had not seen him enter the car—and he was +certain she had not seen him leave it to go to the diner. He had +thought—as he had glanced at her as he went into the smoking +compartment—that, despite the girl’s seemingly affectionate manner +toward Parsons, and her cordial treatment of the big man, her manner +indicated the presence of a certain restraint. And as he looked toward +her, he wondered if Parsons or the big man had told her anything of the +conversation in the diner in which he himself figured. + +And now, looking out of the window, he decided that even if the men had +told her, she would not betray her knowledge to him—unless it were to +give him another scornful glance—the kind she threw at him when she saw +him as he sat behind the two men when they had been talking of Dawes. +Taylor reddened and gritted his teeth impotently; for he knew that if +the two men had told her anything, they would have informed her, merely, +that they had again caught him listening to them. And for that double +offense, Taylor knew there would be no pardon from her. + +Half an hour later, while still thinking of the girl and the men, Taylor +felt the train slowing down. Peering as far ahead as he could by +pressing his face against the glass of the window, Taylor saw the train +was entering a big cut between some hills. It was a wild section, with a +heavy growth of timber skirting the hills—on Taylor’s side of the +train—and running at a sharp angle toward the right-of-way came a small +river. + +Taylor recognized the place as Toban’s Siding. He did not know how the +spot had come by its name; nor did he know much about it except that +there was a spur of track and a water-tank. And when the train began to +slow down he supposed the engineer had decided to stop to take on water. +He found himself wondering, though, why that should be necessary, for he +was certain the train had stopped for water a few miles back, while he +had been in the dining-car. + +The train was already late, and Taylor grinned as he settled farther +back in the seat and drew a sigh of resignation. There was no accounting +for the whims of an engineer, he supposed. + +He felt the train come to a jerking stop; and then fell a silence. An +instant later the silence was broken by two sharp reports, a distinct +interval between them. Taylor sat erect, the smile leaving his face, and +his lips setting grimly as the word “Hold-up” came from between them. + +Marion Harlan also heard the two reports. Stories of train +robberies—recollections of travelers’ tales recurred in her brain as +she sat, for the first tense instant following the reports, listening +for other sounds. Her face grew a little pale, and a tremor ran over +her; but she did not feel a bit like screaming—though in all the +stories she had ever read, women always yielded to the hysteria of that +moment in which a train-robber makes his presence known. + +She was not frightened, though she was just a trifle nervous, and more +than a trifle curious. So she pressed her cheek against the window-glass +and looked forward. + +What she saw caused her to draw back again, her curiosity satisfied. For +on the side of the cut near the engine, she had seen a man with a +rifle—a masked man, tall and rough-looking—and it seemed to her that +the weapon in his hands was menacing someone in the engine-cab. + +She stiffened, looking quickly around the car. None of the passengers +had moved. Carrington and Parsons were still sitting together in the +seat. They were sitting erect, though, and she saw they, too, were +curious. More, she saw that both men were pale, and that Carrington, the +instant she turned, became active—bending over, apparently trying to +hide something under a seat. That movement on Carrington’s part was +convincing, and the girl drew a deep breath. + +While she was debating the wisdom of permitting her curiosity to drive +her to the door nearest her to determine what had happened, the door +burst open and a masked man appeared in the opening! + +While she stared at him, he uttered the short, terse command: + +“Hands up!” + +She supposed that meant her, as well as the men in the car, and she +complied, though with a resentful glare at the mask. + +Daringly she turned her head and glanced back. Carrington had his hands +up, too; and Parsons—and the tourist, and the other man. She did not +see Taylor—though she wondered, on the instant, if he, too, would obey +the train-robber’s command. + +She decided he would—any other course would have been foolhardy; though +she could not help remembering that queer gleam in Taylor’s eyes. That +gleam, it had seemed to her, was a reflection of—not foolhardiness, but +of sheer courage. + +However, she had little time to speculate. The masked man advanced, a +heavy gun in his right hand, its muzzle moving from side to side, +menacing them all. + +He halted when he had advanced to within a step of the girl. + +“You guys set tight!” he ordered gruffly—in the manner of the +train-robber of romance. “If you go to lettin’ down your sky-hooks one +little quiver, I bore you so fast an’ plenty that you’ll think you’re a +colander!” Then he turned the mask toward the girl; she could feel his +eyes burning through it. + +“Shell out, lady!” he commanded. + +She stared straight back at the eye-slits in the mask, defiance glinting +her own eyes. + +“I haven’t any money—or anything of value—to give you,” she returned. + +“You’ve got a pocketbook there—in your hand!” he said. “Fork it over!” +He removed his hat, held it in his left hand, and extended it toward +her. “Toss it in there!” + +Hesitatingly, she obeyed, though not without a vindictive satisfaction +in knowing that he would find little in the purse to compensate him for +his trouble. She could see his eyes gleam greedily as he still looked at +her. + +“Now that chain an’ locket you’ve got around your neck!” he ordered. +“Quick!” he added, savagely, as she stiffened and glared at him. + +She did as she was bidden, though; for she had no doubt he would kill +her—at least his manner indicated he would. And so she removed it, held +it lingering in her hand for an instant, and then tossed it into the +hat. She gulped as she did so, for the trinket had been given to her by +her father before he left home to go on that pilgrimage from which he +had never returned. + +“That’s all, eh?” snarled the man. “Well, I ain’t swallowin’ that! I’m +goin’ to search you!” + +She believed she must have screamed at that. She knew she stood up, +prepared to fight him if he attempted to carry out his threat; and once +on her feet she looked backward. + +Neither Carrington nor Parsons had moved—they were palely silent, +watching, not offering to interfere. As for that, she knew that any sign +of interference on the part of her friends would result in their instant +death. But she did not know what they _should_ do! Something must be +done, for she could not permit the indignity the man threatened! + +Still looking backward, she saw Taylor standing at the end of the +car—where the partition of the smoking-compartment extended outward. He +held a gun in each hand. He had heard her scream, and on his face as the +girl turned toward him, she saw a mirthless grin that made her shiver. +She believed it must have been her gasp that caused the train-robber to +look swiftly at Taylor. + +Whatever had caused the man to look toward the rear of the car, he saw +Taylor; and the girl saw him stiffen as his pistol roared in her ears. +Taylor’s pistols crashed at the same instant—twice—the reports almost +together. Afterward she could not have told what surprised her the +most—seeing the man at her side drop his pistol and lurch limply +against a corner of the seat opposite her, and from there slide gently +to the floor, grunting; or the spectacle of Taylor, arrayed in cowboy +garb, emerging from the door of the smoking-compartment, the mirthless +smile on his face, and his guns—he had used both—blazing forth death +to the man who had threatened her. + +Nor could she—afterward—have related what followed the sudden +termination of the incident in the car. Salient memories stood out—the +vivid and tragic recollection of chief incidents that occurred +immediately; but she could not have even guessed how they happened. + +She saw Taylor as he stood for an instant looking down at the man after +he came running forward to where the other lay; and she saw Taylor leap +for the front door of the car, vanish through it, and slam it after him. + +For an instant after that there was silence, during which she shuddered +as she tried to keep her gaze from the thing that lay doubled oddly in +the aisle. + +And then she heard more shooting. It came from the direction of the +engine—the staccato crashing of pistols; the shouts of men, their +voices raised in anger. + +Pressing her cheek against the window-pane, and looking forward toward +the engine, she saw Taylor. With a gun in each hand, he was running down +the little level between the track and the steep wall of the cut, toward +her. She noted that his face still wore the mirthless grin that had been +on it when he shot the train-robber in the car; though his eyes were +alight with the lust of battle—that was all too plain—and she +shivered. For Taylor, having killed one man, and grimly pursuing others, +seemed to suggest the spirit of this grim, rugged country—the threat of +death that seemed to linger on every hand. + +She saw him snap a shot as he ran, bending far over to send the bullet +under the car; she heard a pistol crash from the other side of the car; +and then she saw Taylor go to his knees. + +She gasped with horror and held to the window-sill, for she feared +Taylor had been killed. But almost instantly she saw her error, for +Taylor was on his hands and knees crawling when she could again +concentrate her gaze; and she knew he was crawling under the car to +catch the man who had shot from the other side. + +Then Taylor disappeared, and she did not see him for a time. She heard +shots, though; many of them; and then, after a great while, a silence. +And during the silence she sat very still, her face white and her lips +stiff, waiting. + +The silence seemed to endure for an age; and then it was broken by the +sound of voices, the opening of the door of the car, and the appearance +of Taylor and some other men—several members of the train-crew; the +express-messenger; the engineer, his right arm hanging limply—and two +men, preceding the others, their hands bound, their faces sullen. + +On Taylor’s face was the grin that had been on it all along. The girl +wondered at the man’s marvelous self-control—for certainly during those +moments of excitement and danger he must have been aware of the terrible +risk he had been running. And then the thought struck her—she had not +considered that phase of the situation before—that she _must_ have +screamed; that he had heard her, and had emerged from the smoking-room +to protect her. She blushed, gratitude and a riot of other emotions +overwhelming her, so that she leaned weakly back in the seat, succumbing +to the inevitable reaction. + +She did not look at Taylor again; she did not even see him as he walked +toward the rear of the car, followed by the train-crew, and preceded by +the two train-robbers he had captured. + +But as the train-crew passed her, she heard one of them say: + +“That guy’s a whirlwind with a gun! Didn’t do no hesitatin’, did he?” + +And again: + +“Now, what do you suppose would make a guy jump in that way an’ run a +chance of gettin’ plugged—plenty? Do you reckon he was just yearnin’ +fer trouble, or do you reckon they was somethin’ else behind it?” + +The girl might have answered, but she did not. She sat very still, +comparing Carrington with this man who had plunged instantly into a +desperate gun-fight to protect her. And she knew that Carrington would +not have done as Taylor had done. And had Carrington seen her face just +at that moment he would have understood that there was no possibility of +him ever achieving the success of which he had dreamed. + +She heard one of the men say that the two men were to be placed in the +baggage-car until they reached Dawes; and then Carrington and Parsons +came to where she sat. + +They talked, but the girl did not hear them, for her thoughts were on +the picture Taylor made when he appeared at the door of the +smoking-compartment arrayed in his cowboy rigging, the grim smile on his +face, his guns flaming death to the man who thought to take advantage of +her helplessness. + + + + +CHAPTER V—THE UNEXPECTED + + +The train pulled out again presently, and the water-tank and the cut +were rapidly left in the rear. Taylor returned to the smoking-room and +resumed his seat, and while the girl looked out of the window, some men +of the train-crew removed the body of the train-robber and obliterated +all traces of the fight. And Carrington and Parsons, noting the girl’s +abstractedness, again left her to herself. + +It had been the girl’s first glimpse of a man in cowboy raiment, and, as +she reflected, she knew she might have known Taylor was an unusual man. +However, she knew it now. + +Cursory glances at drawings she had seen made her familiar with the +type, but the cowboys of those drawings had been magnificently arrayed +in leather _chaparajos_, usually fringed with spangles; and with +long-roweled spurs; magnificent wide brims—also bespangled, and various +other articles of personal adornment, bewildering and awe inspiring. + +But this man, though undoubtedly a cow-puncher, was minus the +magnificent raiment of the drawings. And, paradoxical as it may seem, +the absence of any magnificent trappings made _him_ seem magnificent. + +But she was not so sure that it was the lack of those things that gave +her that impression. He did not _bulge_ in his cowboy clothing; it +fitted him perfectly. She was sure it was he who gave magnificence to +the clothing. Anyway, she was certain he was magnificent, and her eyes +glowed. She knew, now that she had seen him in clothing to which he was +accustomed, and which he knew how to wear, that she would have been more +interested in him yesterday had he appeared before her arrayed as he was +at this moment. + +He had shown himself capable, self-reliant, confident. She would have +given him her entire admiration had it not been for the knowledge that +she had caught him eavesdropping. That action had almost damned him in +her estimation—it would have completely and irrevocably condemned him +had it not been for her recollection of the stern, almost savage +interest she had seen in his eyes while he had been listening to +Carrington and Parsons. + +She knew because of that expression that Carrington and Parsons had been +discussing something in which he took a personal interest. She had not +said so much to Carrington, but her instinct told her, warned her, gave +her a presentiment of impending trouble. That was what she had meant +when she had told Carrington she had seen _fighting_ in Taylor’s eyes. + +Taylor confined himself to the smoking-compartment. The negro porter, +with pleasing memories of generous tips and a grimmer memory to exact +his worship, hung around him, eager to serve him, and to engage him in +conversation; once he grinningly mentioned the incident of the cast-off +clothing of the night before. + +“I ain’t mentionin’ it, boss—not at all! I ain’t givin’ you them duds +till you ast for them. You done took me by s’prise, boss—you shuah did. +I might’ near caved when you shoved that gun under ma nose—I shuah did, +boss. I don’t want to have nothin’ to do with your gun, boss—I shuah +don’t. She’d go ‘pop,’ an’ I wouldn’t be heah no more! + +“I didn’t reco’nize you in them heathen clo’s you had on yesterday, +boss; but I minds you with them duds on. I knows you; you’re ‘Squint’ +Taylor, of Dawes. I’ve seen you on that big black hoss of yourn, a +prancin’ an’ a prancin’ through town—more’n once I’ve seen you. But I +didn’t know you in them heathen clo’s yesterday, boss—’deed I didn’t!” + +Later the porter slipped into the compartment. For a minute or two he +fussed around the room, setting things to order, meanwhile chuckling to +himself. Occasionally he would cease his activities long enough to slap +a knee with the palm of a hand, with which movement he would seem to be +convulsed with merriment, and then he would resume work, chuckling +audibly. + +For a time Taylor took no notice of his antics, but they assailed his +consciousness presently, and finally he asked: + +“What’s eating you, George?” + +The query was evidently just what “George” had been waiting for. For now +he turned and looked at Taylor, his face solemn, but a white gleam of +mirth in his eyes belying the solemnity. + +“Tips is comin’ easy for George this mornin’,” he said; “they shuah is. +No trouble at all. If a man wants to get tips all he has to be is a +dictionary—he, he, he!” + +“So you’re a dictionary, eh? Well, explain the meaning of this.” And he +tossed a silver dollar to the other. + +The dollar in hand, George tilted his head sidewise at Taylor. + +“How on earth you know I got somethin’ to tell you?” + +“How do I know I’ve got two hands?” + +“By lookin’ at them, boss.” + +“Well, that’s how I know you’ve got something to tell me—by looking at +you.” + +The porter chuckled. “I reckon it’s worth a dollar to have a young lady +interested in you,” he told himself in a confidential voice, without +looking at Taylor; “yassir, it’s sure worth a dollar.” He slapped his +knee delightedly. “That young lady a heap interested in you, ’pears +like. While ago she pens me in a corner of the platform. ‘Porter, who’s +that man in the smoking-compartment—that cowboy? What’s his name, an’ +where does he live?’ I hesitates, ’cause I didn’t want to betray no +secrets—an’ scratch my haid. Then she pop half a dollar in my hand, an’ +I tole her you are Squint Taylor, an’ that you own the Arrow ranch, not +far from Dawes. An’ she thank me an’ go away, grinnin’.” + +“And the young lady, George; do you know her name?” + +“Them men she’s travelin’ with calls her Marion, boss.” + +He peered intently at Taylor for signs of interest. He saw no such +signs, and after a while, noting that Taylor seemed preoccupied, and was +evidently no longer aware of his presence, he slipped out noiselessly. + +At nine thirty, Taylor, looking out of the car window, noted that the +country was growing familiar. Fifteen minutes later the porter stuck his +head in between the curtains, saw that Taylor was still absorbed, and +withdrew. At nine fifty-five the porter entered the compartment. + +“We’ll be in Dawes in five minutes, boss,” he said. “I’ve toted your +baggage to the door.” + +The porter withdrew, and a little later Taylor got up and went out into +the aisle. At the far end of the car, near the door, he saw Marion +Harlan, Parsons, and Carrington. + +He did not want to meet them again after what had occurred in the diner, +and he cast a glance toward the door behind him, hoping that the porter +had carried his baggage to that end of the car. But the platform was +empty—his suitcase was at the other end. + +He slipped into a seat on the side of the train that would presently +disclose to him a view of Dawes’s depot, and of Dawes itself, leaned an +elbow on the window-sill, and waited. Apparently the three persons at +the other end of the car paid no attention to him, but glancing sidelong +once he saw the girl throw an interested glance at him. + +And then the air-brakes hissed; he felt the train slowing down, and he +got up and walked slowly toward the girl and her companions. At about +the same instant she and the others began to move toward the door; so +that when the train came to a stop they were on the car platform by the +time Taylor reached the door. And by the time he stepped out upon the +car platform the girl and her friends were on the station platform, +their baggage piled at their feet. + +Dawes’s depot was merely a roofless platform; and there was no shelter +from the glaring white sun that flooded it. The change from the subdued +light of the coach to the shimmering, blinding glare of the sun on the +wooden planks of the platform affected Taylor’s eyes, and he was forced +to look downward as he alighted. And then, not looking up, he went to +the baggage-car and pulled his two prisoners out. + +Looking up as he walked down the platform with the two men, he saw a +transformed Dawes. + +The little, frame station building had been a red, dingy blot beside the +glistening rails that paralleled the town. It was now gaily draped with +bunting—red, white, and blue—which he recognized as having been used +on the occasion of the town’s anniversary celebration. + +A big American flag topped the ridge of the station; other flags +projected from various angles of the frame. + +Most of the town’s other buildings were replicas of the station in the +matter of decorations—festoons of bunting ran here and there from +building to building; broad bands of it were stretched across the fronts +of other buildings; gay loops of it crossed the street, suspended to +form triumphal arches; flags, wreaths of laurel, Japanese lanterns, and +other paraphernalia of the decorator’s art were everywhere. + +Down the street near the Castle Hotel, Taylor saw transparencies, but he +could not make out the words on them. + +He grinned, for certainly the victor of yesterday’s election was +outdoing himself. + +He looked into the face of a man who stood near him on the platform—who +answered his grin. + +“Our new mayor is celebrating in style, eh?” he said. + +“Right!” declared the man. + +He was about to ask the man which candidate had been victorious—though +he was certain it was Neil Norton—when he saw Marion Harlan, standing a +little distance from him, smiling at him. + +It was a broad, impersonal smile, such as one citizen of a town might +exchange with another when both are confronted with the visible +evidences of political victory; and Taylor responded to it with one +equally impersonal. Whereat the girl’s smile faded, and her gaze, still +upon Taylor, became speculative. Its quality told Taylor that he should +not presume upon the smile. + +Taylor had no intention of presuming anything. Not even the porter’s +story of the girl’s interest in him had affected him to the extent of +fatuous imaginings. A woman’s curiosity, he supposed, had led her to +inquire about him. He expected she rarely saw men arrayed as he was—and +as he had been arrayed the day before. + +The girl’s gaze went from Taylor to the street in the immediate vicinity +of the station, and for the first time since alighting on the platform +Taylor saw a mass of people near him. + +Looking sharply at them, he saw many faces in the mass that he knew. +They all seemed to be looking at him and, with the suddenness of a +stroke came to him the consciousness that there was no sound—that +silence, deep and unusual, reigned in Dawes. The train, usually merely +stopping at the station and then resuming its trip, was still standing +motionless behind him. With a sidelong glance he saw the train-crew +standing near the steps of the cars, looking at him. The porter and the +waiter with whose faces he was familiar, were grinning at him. + +Taylor felt that his own grin, as he gazed around at the faces that were +all turned toward him, was vacuous and foolish. He _felt_ foolish. For +he knew something had attracted the attention of all these people to +him, and he had not the slightest idea what it was. For an instant he +feared that through some mental lapse he had forgotten to remove his +“dude” clothing; and he looked down at his trousers and felt of his +shirt, to reassure himself. And he gravely and intently looked at his +prisoners, wondering if by any chance some practical joker of the town +had arranged the train robbery for his special benefit. If that were the +explanation it had been grim hoax—for two men had been killed in the +fight. + +Looking up again, he saw that the grins on the faces of the people +around him had grown broader—and several loud guffaws of laughter +reached his ears. He looked at Marion Harlan, and saw a puzzled +expression on her face. Carrington, too, was looking at him, and +Parsons, whose smile was a smirk of perplexity. + +Taylor reddened with embarrassment. A resentment that grew swiftly to an +angry intolerance, seized him. He straightened, squared his shoulders, +thrust out his chin, and shoving his prisoners before him, took several +long strides across the station platform. + +This movement brought him close to Marion Harlan and her friends, and +his further progress was barred by a man who placed a hand against his +chest. + +This man, too, was grinning. He seized Taylor’s shoulders with both +hands and looked into his face, the grin on his own broad and expanding. + +“Welcome home—you old son-of-a-gun!” said the man. + +His grin was infectious and Taylor answered it, dropping his suitcase +and looking the other straight in the eyes. + +“Norton,” he said, “what in hell is the cause of all this staring at me? +Can’t a man leave town for a few days and come back without everybody +looking at him as though he were a curiosity?” + +Norton—a tall, slender, sinewy man with broad shoulders—laughed aloud +and deliberately winked at several interested citizens who had followed +Taylor’s progress across the platform, and who now stood near him, +grinning. + +“You are a curiosity, man. You’re the first mayor of this man’s town! +Lordy,” he said to the surrounding faces, “he hasn’t tumbled to it yet!” + +The color left Taylor’s face; he stared hard at Norton; he gazed in +bewilderment at the faces near him. + +“Mayor?” he said. “Why, good Lord, man, I wasn’t here yesterday!” + +“But your friends were!” yelped the delighted Norton. He raised his +voice, so that it reached far into the crowd on the street: + +“He’s sort of fussed up, boys; this honor being conferred on him so +sudden; but give him time and he’ll talk your heads off!” He leaned over +to Taylor and whispered in his ear. + +“Grin, man, for God’s sake! Don’t stand there like a wooden man; they’ll +think you don’t appreciate it! It’s the first time I ever saw you lose +your nerve. Buck up, man; why, they simply swamped Danforth; wiped him +clean off the map!” + +Norton was whispering more into Taylor’s ear, but Taylor could not +follow the sequence of it, nor get a coherent meaning out of it. He even +doubted that he heard Norton. He straightened, and looked around at the +crowd that now was pressing in on him, and for the first time in his +life he knew the mental panic and the physical sickness that overtakes +the man who for the first time faces an audience whose eyes are focused +on him. + +For a bag of gold as big as the mountains that loomed over the distant +southern horizon he could not have said a word to the crowd. But he did +succeed in grinning at the faces around him, and at that the crowd +yelled. + +And just before the crowd closed in on him and he began to shake hands +with his delighted supporters, he glanced at Marion Harlan. She was +looking at him with a certain sober interest, though he was sure that +back in her eyes was a sort of humorous malice—which had, however, a +softening quality of admiration and, perhaps, gratitude. + +His gaze went from her to Carrington. The big man was watching him with +a veiled sneer which, when he met Taylor’s eyes, grew open and +unmistakable. + +Taylor grinned broadly at him, for now it occurred to him that he would +be able to thwart Carrington’s designs of “getting hold of the reins.” +His grin at Carrington was a silent challenge, and so the other +interpreted it, for his sneer grew positively venomous. + +The girl caught the exchange of glances between them, for Taylor heard +her say to Parsons, just before the noise of the crowd drowned her +voice: + +“Now I _know_ he overheard you!” + +Meanwhile, the two prisoners were standing near Taylor. Taylor had +almost forgotten them. He was reminded of their presence when he saw +Keats, the sheriff, standing near him. At just the instant Taylor looked +at Keats, the latter was critically watching the prisoners. + +Keats and Taylor had had many differences of opinion, for the sheriff’s +official actions had not merited nor received Taylor’s approval. +Taylor’s attitude toward the man had always been that of good-natured +banter, despite the disgust he felt for the man. And now, pursuing his +customary attitude, Taylor called to him: + +“Specimens, eh! Picked them up at Toban’s this morning. They yearned to +hold up the train. There were four, all together, but we had to put two +out of business. I came pretty near forgetting them. If I hadn’t seen +you just now, maybe I would have walked right off and left them here. +Take them to jail, Keats.” + +Keats advanced. He met Taylor’s eyes and his lips curved with a sneer: + +“Pullin’ off a little grand-stand play, eh! Well, it’s a mighty clever +idea. First you get elected mayor, an’ then you come in here, draggin’ +along a couple of mean-lookin’ hombres, an’ say they’ve tried to hold up +the train at Toban’s. It sounds mighty fishy to me!” + +Taylor laughed. He heard a chuckle behind him, and he turned, to see +Carrington grinning significantly at Keats. Taylor’s eyes chilled as his +gaze went from one man to the other, for the exchange of glances told +him that between the men there was a common interest, which would link +them together against him. And in the dead silence that followed Keats’s +words, Taylor drawled, grinning coldly: + +“Meaning that I’m a liar, Keats?” + +His voice was gentle, and his shoulders seemed to droop a little as +though in his mind was a desire to placate Keats. But there were men in +Dawes who had seen Taylor work his guns, and these held their breath and +began to shove backward. That slow, drooping of Taylor’s shoulders was a +danger signal, a silent warning that Taylor was ready for action, swift +and violent. + +And faces around Taylor whitened as the man stood there facing Keats, +his shoulders drooping still lower, the smile on his face becoming one +of cold, grim mockery. + +The discomfiture of Keats was apparent. Indecision and fear were in the +set of his head—bowed a little; and a dread reluctance was in his +shifting eyes and the pasty-white color of his face. It was plain that +Keats had overplayed; he had not intended to arouse the latent tiger in +Taylor; he had meant merely to embarrass him. + +“Meaning that I’m a liar, Keats?” + +Again Taylor’s voice was gentle, though this time it carried a subtle +taunt. + +Desperately harried, Keats licked his hot lips and cast a sullen glance +around at the crowd. Then his gaze went to Taylor’s face, and he drew a +slow breath. + +“I reckon I wasn’t meanin’ just that,” he said. + +“Of course,” smiled Taylor; “that’s no way for a sheriff to act. Take +them in, Keats,” he added, waving a hand at the prisoners; “it’s been so +long since the sheriff of this county arrested a man that the jail’s +gettin’ tired, yawning for somebody to get into it.” + +He turned his back on Keats and looked straight at Carrington: + +“Have you got any ideas along the sheriff’s line?” he asked. + +Carrington flushed and his lips went into a sullen pout. He did not +speak, merely shaking his head, negatively. + +Keats’s glance at Taylor was malignant with hate; and Carrington’s +sullen, venomous look was not unnoticed by the crowd. Keats stepped +forward and seized the two prisoners, hustling them away, muttering +profanely. + +And then Taylor was led away by Norton and a committee of citizens, +leaving Carrington, the girl and Parsons alone on the platform. + +“Looks like we’re going to have trouble lining things up,” remarked +Parsons. “Danforth——” + +“You shut up!” snapped Carrington. “Danforth’s an ass and so are you!” + + + + +CHAPTER VI—A MAN MAKES PLANS + + +Within an hour after his arrival in Dawes, Carrington was sitting in the +big front room of his suite in the Castle Hotel, inspecting the town. + +A bay window projected over the sidewalk, and from a big leather chair +placed almost in the center of the bay between two windows and facing a +third, at the front, Carrington had a remarkably good view of the town. + +Dawes was a thriving center of activity, with reasons for its +prosperity. Walking toward the Castle from the railroad station, +Carrington had caught a glimpse of the big dam blocking the constricted +neck of a wide basin west of the town—and farther westward stretched a +vast agricultural section, level as a floor, with a carpet of green +slumbering in the white sunlight, and dotted with young trees that +seemed almost ready to bear. + +There were many small buildings on the big level, some tenthouses, and +straight through the level was a wide, sparkling stream of water, with +other and smaller streams intersecting it. These streams were irrigation +ditches, and the moisture in them was giving life to a vast section of +country that had previously been arid and dead. + +But Carrington’s interest had not been so much for the land as for the +method of irrigation. To be sure, he had not stopped long to look, but +he had comprehended the system at a glance. There were locks and flumes +and water-gates, and plenty of water. But the irrigation company had not +completed its system. Carrington intended to complete it. + +Dawes was two years old, and it had the appearance of having been +hastily constructed. Its buildings were mostly of frame—even the +Castle, large and pretentious, and the town’s aristocrat of hostelries, +was of frame. Carrington smiled, for later, when he had got himself +established, he intended to introduce an innovation in building +material. + +The courthouse was a frame structure. It was directly across the street +from the Castle, and Carrington could look into its windows and see some +men at work inside at desks. He had no interest in the post office, for +that was of the national government—and yet, perhaps, after a while he +might take some interest in that. + +For Carrington’s vision, though selfish, was broad. A multitude of men +of the Carrington type have taken bold positions in the eternal battle +for progress, and all have contributed something toward the ultimate +ideal. And not all have been scoundrels. + +Carrington’s vision, however, was blurred by the mote of greed. Dawes +was flourishing; he intended to modernize it, but in the process of +modernization he intended to be the chief recipient of the material +profits. + +Carrington had washed, shaved himself, and changed his clothes; and as +he sat in the big leather chair in the bay, overlooking the street, he +looked smooth, sleek, and capable. + +He had seemed massive in the Pullman, wearing a traveling suit of some +light material, and his corpulent waist-line had been somewhat +accentuated. + +The blue serge suit he wore now made a startling change in his +appearance. It made his shoulders seem broader; it made the wide, +swelling arch of his chest more pronounced, and in inverse ratio it +contracted the corpulent waist-line—almost eliminating it. + +Carrington looked to be what he was—a big, virile, magnetic giant of a +man in perfect health. + +He had not been sitting in the leather chair for more than fifteen +minutes when there came a knock on a door behind him. + +“Come!” he commanded. + +A tall man entered, closed the door behind him and with hat in hand +stood looking at Carrington with a half-smile which might have been +slightly diffident, or impudent or defiant—it was puzzling. + +Carrington had twisted in his chair to get a glimpse of his visitor; he +now grunted, resumed his former position and said, gruffly: + +“Hello, Danforth!” + +Danforth stepped over to the bay, and without invitation drew up a chair +and seated himself near Carrington. + +Danforth was slender, big-framed, and sinewy. His shoulders were broad +and his waist slim. There was a stubborn thrust to his chin; his nose +was a trifle too long to perfectly fit his face; his mouth a little too +big, and the lips too thin. The nose had a slight droop that made one +think of selfishness and greed, and the thin lips, with a downward +swerve at the corners, suggested cruelty. + +These defects, however, were not prominent, for they were offset by a +really distinguished head with a mass of short, curly hair that ruffled +attractively under the brim of the felt hat he wore. + +The hat was in his right hand, now, but it had left its impress on his +hair, and as he sat down he ran his free hand through it. Danforth knew +where his attractions were. + +He grinned shallowly at Carrington when the latter turned and looked at +him. + +He cleared his throat. “I suppose you’ve heard about it?” + +“I couldn’t help hearing.” Carrington scowled at the other. “What in +hell was wrong? We send you out here, give you more than a year’s time +and all the money you want—which has been plenty—and then you lose. +What in the devil was the matter?” + +“Too much Taylor,” smirked the other. + +“But what else?” + +“Nothing else—just Taylor.” + +Carrington exclaimed profanely. + +“Why, the man didn’t even know he was a candidate! He was on the train I +came in on!” + +“It was Neil Norton’s scheme,” explained Danforth. “I had _him_ beaten +to a frazzle. I suppose he knew it. Two days before election he suddenly +withdrew his name and substituted Taylor’s. You know what happened. He +licked me two to one. He was too popular for me—damn him! + +“Norton owns a newspaper here—the only one in the county—the _Eagle_.” + +“Why didn’t you buy him?” + +Danforth grinned sarcastically: “I didn’t feel that reckless.” + +“Honest, eh?” + +Carrington rested his chin in the palm of his right hand and scowled +into the street. He was convinced that Danforth had done everything he +could to win the election, and he was bitterly chagrined over the +result. But that result was not the dominating thought in his mind. He +kept seeing Taylor as the latter had stood on the station platform, +stunned with surprise over the knowledge that he had been so signally +honored by the people of Dawes. + +And Carrington had seen Marion Harlan’s glances at the man; he had been +aware of the admiring smile she had given Taylor; and bitter passion +gripped Carrington at the recollection of the smile. + +More—he had seen Taylor’s face when the girl had smiled. The smile had +thrilled Taylor—it had held promise for him, and Carrington knew it. + +Carrington continued to stare out into the street. Danforth watched him +furtively, in silence. + +At last, not opening his lips, Carrington spoke: + +“Tell me about this man, Taylor.” + +“Taylor owns the Arrow ranch, in the basin south of here. His ranch +covers about twenty thousand acres. He has a clear title. + +“According to report, he employs about thirty men. They are holy +terrors—that is, they are what is called ‘hard cases,’ though they are +not outlaws by any means. Just a devil-may-care bunch that raises hell +when it strikes town. They swear by Taylor.” + +So far as Carrington could see, everybody in Dawes swore by Taylor. +Carrington grimaced. + +“That isn’t what I want to know,” he flared. “How long has he been here; +what kind of a fellow is he?” + +“Taylor owned the Arrow before Dawes was founded. When the railroad came +through it brought with it some land-sharks that tried to frame up on +the ranch-owners in the vicinity. It was a slick scheme, they tell me. +They had clouded every title, and figured to grab the whole county, it +seems. + +“Taylor went after them. People I’ve talked with here say it was a dandy +shindy while it lasted. The land-grabbers brought the courts in, and a +crooked judge. Taylor fought them, crooked judge and all, to a +bite-the-dust finish. Toward the end it was a free-for-all—and the +land-grabbers were chased out of the county. + +“Naturally, the folks around here think a lot of Taylor for the part he +played in the deal. Besides that, he’s a man that makes friends +quickly—and holds them.” + +“Has Taylor any interests besides his ranch?” + +“A share in the water company, I believe. He owns some land in town; and +he is usually on all the public committees here.” + +“About thirty, isn’t he?” + +“Twenty-eight.” + +Carrington looked at the other with a sidelong, sneering grin: + +“Have any ladies come into his young life?” + +Danforth snickered. “You’ve got me—I hadn’t inquired. He doesn’t seem +to be much of a ladies’ man, though, I take it. Doesn’t seem to have +time to monkey with them.” + +“H-m!” Carrington’s lips went into a pout as he stared straight ahead of +him. + +Danforth at last broke a long silence with: + +“Well, we got licked, all right. What’s going to happen now? Are you +going to quit?” + +“Quit?” Carrington snapped the word at the other, his eyes flaming with +rage. Then he laughed, mirthlessly, resuming: “This defeat was +unexpected; I wasn’t set for it. But it won’t alter things—very much. +I’ll have to shake a leg, that’s all. What time does the next train +leave here for the capital?” + +“At two o’clock this afternoon.” Danforth’s eyes widened as he looked at +Carrington. The curiosity in his glance caused Carrington to laugh +shortly. + +“You don’t mean that the governor is in this thing?” said Danforth. + +“Why not?” demanded Carrington. “Bah! Do you think I came in with my +eyes closed!” + +There was a new light in Danforth’s eyes—the flame of renewed hope. + +“Then we’ve still got a chance,” he declared. + +Carrington laughed. “A too-popular mayor is not a good thing for a +town,” he said significantly. + + + + +CHAPTER VII—THE SHADOW OF THE PAST + + +Marion Harlan and her uncle, Elam Parsons, did not accompany Carrington +to the Castle Hotel. By telegraph, through Danforth, Carrington had +bought a house near Dawes, and shortly after Quinton Taylor left the +station platform accompanied by his friends and admirers, Marion and her +uncle were in a buckboard riding toward the place that, henceforth, was +to be their home. + +For that question had been settled before the party left Westwood. +Parsons had declared his future activities were to be centered in Dawes, +that he had no further interests to keep him in Westwood, and that he +intended to make his home in Dawes. + +Certainly Marion had few interests in the town that had been the scene +of the domestic tragedy that had left her parentless. She was glad to +get away. For though she had not been to blame for what had happened, +she was painfully conscious of the stares that followed her everywhere, +and aware of the morbid curiosity with which her neighbors regarded her. +Also—through the medium of certain of her “friends,” she had become +cognizant of speculative whisperings, such as: “To think of being +brought up like that? Do you think she will be like her mother?” +Or—“What’s bred in the bone, _et cetera_.” + +Perhaps these good people did not mean to be unkind; certainly the +crimson stains that colored the girl’s cheeks when she passed them +should have won their charity and their silence. + +There was nothing in Westwood for her; and so she was glad to get away. +And the trip westward toward Dawes opened a new vista of life to her. +She was leaving the old and the tragic and adventuring into the new and +promising, where she could face life without the onus of a shame that +had not been hers. + +Before she was half way to Dawes she had forgotten Westwood and its +wagging tongues. She alone, of all the passengers in the Pullman, had +not been aware of the heat and the discomfort. She had loved every foot +of the great prairie land that, green and beautiful, had flashed past +the car window; she had gazed with eager, interested eyes into the far +reaches of the desert through which she had passed, filling her soul +with the mystic beauty of this new world, reveling in its vastness and +in the atmosphere of calm that seemed to engulf it. + +Dawes had not disappointed her; on the contrary, she loved it at first +sight. For though Dawes was new and crude, it looked rugged and +honest—and rather too busy to hesitate for the purpose of indulging in +gossip—idle or otherwise. Dawes, she was certain, was occupying itself +with progress—a thing that, long since, Westwood had forgotten. + +Five minutes after she had entered the buckboard, the spirit of this new +world had seized upon the girl and she was athrob and atingle with the +joy of it. It filled her veins; it made her cheeks flame and her eyes +dance. And the strange aroma—the pungent breath of the sage, borne to +her on the slight breeze—she drew into her lungs with great long +breaths that seemed to intoxicate her. + +“Oh,” she exclaimed delightedly, “isn’t it great! Oh, I love it!” + +Elam Parsons grinned at her—the habitual smirk with which he recognized +all emotion not his own. + +“It _does_ look like a good field for business,” he conceded. + +The girl looked at him quickly, divined the sordidness of his thoughts, +and puckered her brows in a frown. And thereafter she enjoyed the +esthetic beauties of her world without seeking confirmation from her +uncle. + +Her delight grew as the journey to the new home progressed. She saw the +fertile farming country stretching far in the big section of country +beyond the water-filled basin; her eyes glowed as the irrigation +ditches, with their locks and gates, came under her observation; and she +sat silent, awed by the mightiness of it all—the tall, majestic +mountains looming somberly many miles distant behind a glowing +mist—like a rose veil or a gauze curtain lowered to partly conceal the +mystic beauty of them. + +Intervening were hills and flats and draws and valleys, and miles and +miles of level grass land, green and peaceful in the shimmering sunlight +that came from somewhere near the center of the big, pale-blue inverted +bowl of sky; she caught the silvery glitter of a river that wound its +way through the country like a monstrous serpent; she saw dark blotches, +miles long, which she knew were forests, for she could see the spires of +trees thrusting upward. But from where she rode the trees seemed to be +no larger than bushes. + +Looking backward, she could see Dawes. Already the buckboard had +traveled two or three miles, but the town seemed near, and she had quite +a shock when she looked back at it and saw the buildings, mere huddled +shanties, spoiling the beauty of her picture. + +A mile or so farther—four miles altogether, Parsons told her—and they +came in sight of a house. She had difficulty restraining her delight +when they climbed out of the buckboard and Parsons told her the place +was to be their permanent home. For it was such a house as she had +longed to live in all the days of her life. + +The first impression it gave her was that of spaciousness. For though +only one story in height, the house contained many rooms. Those, +however, she saw later. + +The exterior was what intrigued her interest at first glance. So far as +she knew, it was the only brick building in the country. She had seen +none such in Dawes. + +There was a big porch across the front; the windows were large; there +were vines and plants thriving in the shade from some big cottonwood +trees near by—in fact, the house seemed to have been built in a grove +of the giant trees; there were several outhouses, one of which had +chickens in an enclosure near it; there was a garden, well-kept; and the +girl saw that back of the house ran a little stream which flowed sharply +downward, later to tumble into the big basin far below the irrigation +dam. + +While Parsons was superintending the unloading of the buckboard, Marion +explored the house. It was completely furnished, and her eyes glowed +with pleasure as she inspected it. And when Parsons and the driver were +carrying the baggage in she was outside the house, standing at the edge +of a butte whose precipitous walls descended sharply to the floor of the +irrigation basin, two or three hundred feet below. She could no longer +see the cultivated level, with its irrigation ditches, but she could see +the big dam, a mile or so up the valley toward Dawes, with the water +creeping over it, and the big valley itself, slumbering in the pure, +white light of the morning. + +She went inside, slightly awed, and Parsons, noting her excitement, +smirked at her. She left him and went to her room. Emerging later she +discovered that Parsons was not in the house. She saw him, however, at a +distance, looking out into the valley. + +And then, in the kitchen, Marion came upon the housekeeper, a negro +woman of uncertain age. Parsons had not told her there was to be a +housekeeper. + +The negro woman grinned broadly at her astonishment. + +“Lawsey, ma’am; you jes’ got to have a housekeeper, I reckon! How you +ever git along without a housekeeper? You’re too fine an’ dainty to keep +house you’self!” + +The woman’s name, the latter told her, was Martha, and there was honest +delight—and, it seemed to Marion, downright relief in her eyes when she +looked at the new mistress. + +“You ain’t got no ‘past,’ that’s certain, honey,” she declared, with a +delighted smile. “The woman that lived here befo’ had a past, honey. A +man named Huggins lived in this house, an’ she said she’s his wife. +Wife! Lawsey! No man has a wife like that! She had a past, that woman, +an’ mebbe a present, too—he, he, he! + +“He was the man what put the railroad through here, honey. I done hear +the woman say—her name was Blanche, honey—that Huggins was one of them +ultra rich. But whatever it was that ailed him, honey, didn’t help his +looks none. Pig-eye, I used to call him, when I’se mad at him—which was +mostly all the time—he, he, he!” + +The girl’s face whitened. Was she never to escape the atmosphere she +loathed? She shuddered and Martha patted her sympathetically on the +shoulder. + +“There, there, honey; you ain’t ’sponsible for other folks’ affairs. +Jes’ you hold you’ head up an’ go about you’ business. Nobody say +anything to you because you’ livin’ here.” + +But Martha’s words neither comforted nor consoled the girl. She went +again to her room and sat for a long time, looking out of a window. For +now all the cheer had gone out of the house; the rooms looked dull and +dreary—and empty, as of something gone out of them. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII—CONCERNING “SQUINT” + + +Marion Harlan had responded eagerly to Carrington’s fabrication +regarding the rumor of Lawrence Harlan’s presence in Dawes. Carrington’s +reference to her father’s sojourn in the town had been vague—he merely +told her that a rumor had reached him—a man’s word, without +details—and she had accepted it at its face value. She was impatient to +run the rumor down, to personally satisfy herself, and she believed +Carrington. + +But she spent a fruitless week interrogating people in Dawes. She had +gone to the courthouse, there to pass long hours searching the +records—and had found nothing. Then, systematically, she had gone from +store to store—making small purchases and quizzing everyone she came in +contact with. None had known a man named Harlan; it seemed that not one +person in Dawes had ever heard of him. + +Parsons had returned to town in the buckboard shortly after noon on the +day of their arrival at the new house, and she had not seen him again +until the following morning. Then he had told her that Carrington had +gone away—he did not know where. Carrington would not return for a week +or two, he inferred. + +Parsons had bought some horses. A little bay, short-coupled but wiry, +belonged to her, Parsons said—it was a present from Carrington. + +She hesitated to accept the horse; but the little animal won her regard +by his affectionate mannerisms, and at the end of a day of doubt and +indecision she accepted him. + +She had ridden horses in Westwood—bareback when no one had been +looking, and with a side-saddle at other times—but she discovered no +side-saddle in Dawes. However, she did encounter no difficulty in +unearthing a riding-habit with a divided skirt, and though she got into +that with a pulse of trepidation and embarrassment, she soon discovered +it to be most comfortable and convenient. + +And Dawes did not stare at her because she rode “straddle.” At first she +was fearful, and watched Dawes’s citizens furtively; but when she saw +that she attracted no attention other than would be attracted by any +good-looking young woman in more conventional attire, she felt more at +ease. But she could not help thinking about the sanctimonious +inhabitants of Westwood. Would they not have declared their kindly +predictions vindicated had they been permitted to see her? She could +almost hear the chorus of “I-told-you-so’s”—they rang in her ears over +a distance of many hundreds of miles! + +But the spirit of the young, unfettered country had got into her soul, +and she went her way unmindful of Westwood’s opinions. + +For three days she continued her search for tidings of her father, eager +and hopeful; and then for the remainder of the week she did her +searching mechanically, doggedly, with a presentiment of failure to +harass her. + +And then one morning, when she was standing beside her horse near the +stable door, ready to mount and fully determined to pursue the +Carrington rumor to the end, the word she sought was brought to her. + +She saw a horseman coming toward her from the direction of Dawes. He was +not Parsons—for the rider was short and broad; and besides, Parsons was +spending most of his time in Dawes. + +The girl watched the rider, assured, as he came nearer, that he was a +stranger; and when he turned his horse toward her, and she saw he _was_ +a stranger, she leaned close and whispered to her own animal: + +“Oh, Billy; what if it _should_ be!” + +An instant later she was watching the stranger dismount within a few +feet of where she was standing. + +He was short and stocky, and undeniably Irish. He was far past middle +age, as his gray hair and seamed wrinkles of his face indicated; but +there was the light of a youthful spirit and good-nature in his eyes +that squinted at the girl with a quizzical interest. + +With the bridle-rein in the crook of his elbow and his hat in his hand, +he bowed elaborately to the girl. + +“Would ye be Miss Harlan, ma’am?” he asked. + +“Yes,” she breathed, her face alight with eagerness, for now since the +man had spoken her name the presentiment of news grew stronger. + +The man’s face flashed into a wide, delighted grin and he reached out a +hand, into which she placed one of hers, hardly knowing that she did it. + +“Me name’s Ben Mullarky, ma’am. I’ve got a little shack down on the +Rabbit-Ear—which is a crick, for all the name some locoed ignoramus +give it. You c’ud see the shack from here, ma’am—if ye’d look sharp.” + +He pointed out a spot to her—a wooded section far out in the big level +country southward, beside the river—and she saw the roof of a building +near the edge of the timber. + +“That’s me shack,” offered Mullarky. “Me ol’ woman an’ meself owns +her—an’ a quarter-section—all proved. We call it seven miles from the +shack to Dawes. That’d make it about three from here.” + +“Yes, yes,” said the girl eagerly. + +He grinned at her. “Comin’ in to town this mornin’ for some knickknacks +for me ol’ woman, I hear from Coleman—who keeps a store—that there’s a +fine-lookin’ girl named Harlan searchin’ the country for news of her +father, Larry Harlan. I knowed him, ma’am.” + +“You did? Oh, how wonderful!” She stood erect, breathing fast, her eyes +glowing with mingled joy and impatience. She had not caught the +significance of Mullarky’s picturesque past tense, “knowed;” but when he +repeated it, with just a slight emphasis: + +“I _knowed_ him, ma’am,” she drew a quick, full breath and her face +whitened. + +“You knew him,” she said slowly. “Does that mean——” + +Mullarky scratched his head and looked downward, not meeting her eyes. + +“Squint Taylor would tell you the story, ma’am,” he said. “You see, +ma’am, he worked for Squint, an’ Squint was with him when it happened.” + +“He’s dead, then?” She stood rigid, tense, searching Mullarky’s face +with wide, dreading eyes, and when she saw his gaze shift under hers she +drew a deep sigh and leaned against Billy, covering her face with her +hands. + +Mullarky did not attempt to disturb her; he stood, looking glumly at +her, reproaching himself for his awkwardness in breaking the news to +her. + +It was some minutes before she faced him again, and then she was pale +and composed, except for the haunting sadness that had come into her +eyes. + +“Thank you,” she said. “Can you tell me where I can find Mr. +Taylor—‘Squint,’ you called him? Is that the Taylor who was elected +mayor—last week?” + +“The same, ma’am.” He turned and pointed southward, into the big, level +country that she admired so much. + +“Do you see that big timber grove ’way off there—where the crick +doubles to the north—with that big green patch beyond?” She nodded. +“That’s Taylor’s ranch—the Arrow. You’ll find him there. He’s a mighty +fine man, ma’am. Larry Harlan would tell you that if he was here. Taylor +was the best friend that Larry Harlan ever had—out here.” He looked at +her pityingly. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to be the bearer of ill news; but when +I heard you was in town, lookin’ for your father, I couldn’t help comin’ +to see you.” + +She asked some questions about her father—which Mullarky answered; +though he could tell her nothing that would acquaint her with the +details of her father’s life between the time he had left Westwood and +the day of his appearance in this section of the world. + +“Mebbe Taylor will know, ma’am,” he repeated again and again. And then, +when she thanked him once more and mounted her horse, he said: + +“You’ll be goin’ to see Squint right away, ma’am, I suppose. You can +ease your horse right down the slope, here, an’ strike the level. You’ll +find a trail right down there. You’ll follow it along the crick, an’ +it’ll take you into the Arrow ranchhouse. It’ll take you past me own +shack, too; an’ if you’ll stop in an’ tell the ol’ woman who you are, +she’ll be tickled to give you a snack an’ a cup of tea. She liked Larry +herself.” + +The girl watched Mullarky ride away. He turned in the saddle, at +intervals, to grin at her. + +Then, when Mullarky had gone she leaned against Billy and stood for a +long time, her shoulders quivering. + +At last, though, she mounted the little animal and sent him down the +slope. + +She found the trail about which Mullarky had spoken, and rode it +steadily; though she saw little of the wild, virgin country through +which she passed, because her brimming eyes blurred it all. + +She came at last to Mullarky’s shack, and a stout, motherly woman, with +an ample bosom and a kindly face, welcomed her. + +“So you’re Larry Harlan’s daughter,” said Mrs. Mullarky, when her +insistence had brought the girl inside the cabin; “you poor darlin’. An’ +Ben told you—the blunderin’ idiot. He’ll have a piece of my mind when +he comes back! An’ you’re stoppin’ at the old Huggins house, eh?” She +looked sharply at the girl, and the latter’s face reddened. Whereat Mrs. +Mullarky patted her shoulder and murmured: + +“It ain’t your fault that there’s indacint women in the world; an’ no +taint of them will ever reach you. But the fools in this world is always +waggin’ their tongues, associatin’ what’s happened with what they think +will happen. An’ mebbe they’ll wonder about you. It’s your uncle that’s +there with you, you say? Well, then, don’t you worry. You run right +along to see Squint Taylor, now, an’ find out what he knows about your +father. Taylor’s a mighty fine man, darlin’.” + +And so Marion went on her way again, grateful for Mrs. Mullarky’s +kindness, but depressed over the knowledge that the atmosphere of +suspicion, which had enveloped her in Westwood, had followed her into +this new country which, she had hoped, would have been more friendly. + +She came in sight of the Arrow ranchhouse presently, and gazed at it +admiringly. It was a big building, of adobe brick, with a wide porch—or +gallery—entirely surrounding it. It was in the center of a big space, +with timber flanking it on three sides, and at the north was a green +stretch of level that reached to the sloping banks of a river. + +There were several smaller buildings; a big, fenced enclosure—the +corrals, she supposed; a pasture, and a garden. Everything was in +perfect order, and had it not been for the aroma of the sage that +assailed her nostrils, the awe-inspiring bigness of it all, the sight of +thousands of cattle—which she could see through the trees beyond the +clearing, she could have likened the place to a big eastern farmhouse of +the better class, isolated and prosperous. + +She dismounted from her horse at a corner of the house, near a door that +opened upon the wide porch, and stood, pale and hesitant, looking at the +door, which was closed. + +And as she stared at the door, it swung inward and Quinton Taylor +appeared in the opening. + + + + +CHAPTER IX—A MAN LIES + + +Taylor was arrayed as Marion had mentally pictured him that day when, in +the Pullman, she had associated him with ranches and ranges. Evidently +he was ready to ride, for leather chaps incased his legs. The chaps were +plain, not even adorned with the spangles of the drawings she had seen; +and they were well-worn and shiny in spots. A pair of big, Mexican spurs +were on the heels of his boots; the inevitable cartridge-belt about his +middle, sagging with the heavy pistol; a quirt dangled from his left +hand. Assuredly he belonged in this environment—he even seemed to +dominate it. + +She had wondered how he would greet her; but his greeting was not at all +what she had feared it would be. For he did not presume upon their +meeting on the train; he gave no sign that he had ever seen her before; +there was not even a glint in his eyes to tell her that he remembered +the scornful look she had given him when she discovered him listening to +the conversation carried on between her uncle and Carrington. His manner +indicated that if _she_ did not care to mention the matter _he_ would +not. His face was grave as he stepped across the porch and stood before +her. And he said merely: + +“Are you looking for someone, ma’am?” + +“I came to see you, Mr. Taylor,” she said. (And then he knew that the +negro porter on the train had not lied when he said the girl had paid +him for certain information.) + +But Taylor’s face was still grave, for he thought he knew what she had +come for. He had overheard a great deal of the conversation between +Parsons and Carrington in the dining-car, and he remembered such phrases +as: “That fairy tale about her father having been seen in this locality; +To get her out here, where there isn’t a hell of a lot of law, and a +man’s will is the only thing that governs him;” and, “Then you lied +about Lawrence Harlan having been seen in this country.” Also, he +remembered distinctly another phrase, uttered by Carrington: “That you +framed up on her mother, to get her to leave Larry.” + +All of that conversation was vivid in Taylor’s mind, and mingled with +the recollection of it now was a grim pity for the girl, for the +hypocritical character of her supposed friends. + +To be sure, the girl did not know that Parsons had lied about her father +having been seen in the vicinity of Dawes; but that did not alter the +fact that Larry Harlan had really been here; and Taylor surmised that +she had made inquiries, thus discovering that there was truth in +Carrington’s statement. + +He got a chair for her and seated himself on the porch railing. + +“You came to see me?” he said, encouragingly. + +“I am Marion Harlan, the daughter of Lawrence Harlan,” began the girl. +And then she paused to note the effect of her words on Taylor. + +So far as she could see, there was no sign of emotion on Taylor’s face. +He nodded, looking steadily at her. + +“And you are seeking news of your father,” he said. “Who told you to +come to me?” + +“A man named Ben Mullarky. He said my father had worked for you—that +you had been his best friend.” + +She saw his lips come together in straight lines. + +“Poor Larry. You knew he died, Miss Harlan?” + +“Mullarky told me.” The girl’s eyes moistened. “And I should like to +know something about him—how he lived after—after he left home; +whether he was happy—all about him. You see, Mr. Taylor, I loved him!” + +“And Larry Harlan loved his daughter,” said Taylor softly. + +He began to tell her of her father; how several years before Harlan had +come to him, seeking employment; how Larry and himself had formed a +friendship; how they had gone together in search of the gold that Larry +claimed to have discovered in the Sangre de Christo Mountains; of the +injury Larry had suffered, and how the man had died while he himself had +been taking him toward civilization and assistance. + +During the recital, however, one thought dominated him, reddening his +face with visible evidence of the sense of guilt that had seized him. He +must deliberately lie to the daughter of the man who had been his +friend. + +In his pocket at this instant was Larry’s note to him, in which the man +had expressed his fear of fortune-hunters. Taylor remembered the exact +words: + + Marion will have considerable money and I don’t want no sneak to get + hold of it—like the sneak that got hold of the money my wife had, + that I saved. There’s a lot of them around. If Marion is going to + fall in with one of that kind, I’d rather she wouldn’t get what I + leave; the man would get it away from her. Use your own judgment and + I’ll be satisfied. + +And Taylor’s judgment was that Carrington and Parsons were +fortune-hunters; that if they discovered the girl to be entitled to a +share of the money that had been received from the sale of the mine, +they would endeavor to convert it to their own use. And Taylor was +determined they should not have it. + +The conversation he had overheard in the dining-car had convinced him of +their utter hypocrisy and selfishness; it had aroused in him a feeling +of savage resentment and disgust that would not permit him to transfer a +cent of the money to the girl as long as they held the slightest +influence over her. + +Again he mentally quoted from Larry’s note to him: + + The others were too selfish and sneaking. (That meant Parsons—and + one other.) Squint, I want you to take care of her.... Sell—the + mine—take my share and for it give Marion a half-interest in your + ranch, the Arrow. If there is any left, put it in land in + Dawes—that town is going to boom. Guard it for her, and marry her, + Squint; she’ll make you a good wife. + +Since the first meeting with the girl on the train Taylor had felt an +entire sympathy with Larry Harlan in his expressed desire to have Taylor +marry the girl; in fact, she was the first girl that Taylor had ever +wanted to marry, and the passion in his heart for her had already passed +the wistful stage—he was determined to have her. But that passion did +not lessen his sense of obligation to Larry Harlan. Nor would it—if he +could not have the girl himself—prevent him doing what he could to keep +her from forming any sort of an alliance with the sort of man Larry had +wished to save her from, as expressed in this passage of the note: “If +Marion is going to fall in with one of that kind, I’d rather she +wouldn’t get what I leave.” + +Therefore, since Taylor distrusted Carrington and Parsons, he had +decided he would not tell the girl of the money her father had left—the +share of the proceeds of the mine. He would hold it for her, as a sacred +trust, until the time came—if it ever came—when she would have +discovered their faithlessness—or until she needed the money. More, he +was determined to expose the men. + +He knew, thanks to his eavesdropping on the train, at least something +regarding the motives that had brought them to Dawes; Carrington’s +words, “When we get hold of the reins,” had convinced him that they and +the interests behind them were to endeavor to rob the people of Dawes. +That was indicated by their attempt to have David Danforth elected mayor +of the town. + +Taylor had already decided that he could not permit Marion to see the +note her father had left, for he did not want her to feel that she was +under any obligation—parental or otherwise—to marry him. If he won her +at all, he wanted to win her on his merits. + +As a matter of fact, since he had decided to lie about the money, he was +determined to say nothing about the note at all. He would keep silent, +making whatever explanations that seemed to be necessary, trusting to +time and the logical sequence of events for the desired outcome. + +He was forced to begin to lie at once. When he had finished the story of +Larry’s untimely death, the girl looked straight at him. + +“Then you were with him when he died. Did—did he mention anyone—my +mother—or me?” + +“He said: ‘Squint, there is a daughter’”—Taylor was quoting from the +note—“‘she was fifteen when I saw her last. She looked just like +me—thank God for that!’” Taylor blushed when he saw the girl’s face +redden, for he knew what her thoughts were. He should not have quoted +that sentence. He resolved to be more careful; and went on: “He told me +I was to take care of you, to offer you a home at the Arrow—after I +found you. I was to go to Westwood, Illinois, to find you. I suppose he +wanted me to bring you here.” + +The speech was entirely unworthy, and Taylor knew it, and he eased his +conscience by adding: “He thought, I suppose, that you would like to be +where he had been. I’ve not touched the room he had. All his effects are +there—everything he owned, just as he left them. I had given him a room +in the house because I liked him (that was the truth), and I wanted him +where I could talk to him.” + +“I cannot thank you enough for that!” she said earnestly. And then +Taylor was forced to lie again, for she immediately asked: “And the +mine? It proved to be worthless, I suppose. For,” she added, “that would +be just father’s luck.” + +“The mine wasn’t what we thought it would be,” said Taylor. He was +looking at his boots when he spoke, and he wondered if his face was as +red as it felt. + +“I am not surprised.” There was no disappointment in her voice, and +therefore Taylor knew she was not avaricious—though he knew he had not +expected her to be. “Then he left nothing but his personal belongings?” +she added. + +Taylor nodded. + +The girl sat for a long time, looking out over the river into the vast +level that stretched away from it. + +“He has ridden there, I suppose,” she said wistfully. “He was here for +nearly three years, you said. Then he must have been everywhere around +here.” And she got up, gazing about her, as though she would firmly fix +the locality for future reminiscent dreams. Then suddenly she said: + +“I should like to see his room—may I?” + +“You sure can!” + +She followed him into the house, and he stood in the open doorway, +watching her as she went from place to place, looking at Larry’s +effects. + +Taylor did not remain long at the door; he went out upon the porch +again, leaving her in the room, and after a long time she joined him, +her eyes moist, but a smile on her lips. + +“You’ll leave his things there—a little longer, won’t you? I should +like to have them, and I shall come for them, some day.” + +“Sure,” he said. “But, look here, Miss Harlan. Why should you take his +things? Leave them here—and come yourself. That room is yours, if you +say the word. And a half-interest in the ranch. I was going to offer +your father an interest in it—if he had lived——” + +He realized his mistake when he saw her eyes widen incredulously. And +there was a change in her voice—it was full of doubt, of distrust +almost. + +“What had father done to deserve an interest in your ranch?” she +demanded. + +“Why,” he answered hesitatingly, “it’s rather hard to say. But he helped +me much; he suggested improvements that made the place more valuable; he +was a good man, and he took a great deal of the work off my mind—and I +liked him,” he finished lamely. + +“And do you think I could do his share of the work?” she interrogated, +looking at him with an odd smile, the meaning of which Taylor could not +fathom. + +“I couldn’t expect that, of course,” he said boldly; “but I owe Harlan +something for what he did for me, and I thought——” + +“You thought you would be charitable to the daughter,” she finished for +him, with a smile in which there was gratitude and understanding. + +“I am sure I can’t thank you enough for feeling that way toward my +father and myself. But I can’t accept, you know.” + +Taylor did know, of course. A desperate desire to make amends for his +lying, to force upon her gratuitously what he had illegally robbed her +of, had been the motive underlying his offer. And he would have been +disappointed had she accepted, for that would have revealed a lack of +spirit which he had hoped she possessed. + +And yet Taylor felt decidedly uncomfortable over the refusal. He wanted +her to have what belonged to her, for he divined from the note her +father had left that she would have need of it. + +He discovered by judicious questioning, by inference, and through crafty +suggestion, that she was entirely dependent upon her uncle; that her +uncle had bought the Huggins house, and that Carrington had made her a +present of the horse she rode. + +This last bit of information, volunteered by Marion, provoked Taylor to +a rage that made him grit his teeth. + +A little while longer they talked, and when the girl mounted her horse +to ride away, they had entered into an agreement under which on Tuesdays +and Fridays—the first Tuesday falling on the following day—Taylor was +to be absent from the ranch. And during his absence the girl was to come +and stay at the ranchhouse, there to occupy her father’s room and, if +she desired, to enter the other rooms at will. + +As a concession to propriety, she was to bring Martha, the Huggins +housekeeper, with her. + +But Taylor, after the girl had left, stood for an hour on the porch, +watching the dust-cloud that followed the girl’s progress through the +big basin, his face red, his soul filled with loathing for the part his +judgment was forcing him to play. But arrayed against the loathing was a +complacent satisfaction aroused over the thought that Carrington would +never get the money that Larry Harlan had left to the girl. + + + + +CHAPTER X—THE FRAME-UP + + +James J. Carrington was unscrupulous, but even his most devout enemy +could not have said that he lacked vision and thoroughness. And, while +he had been listening to Danforth in his apartment in the Castle Hotel, +he had discovered that Neil Norton had made a technical blunder in +electing Quinton Taylor mayor of Dawes. Perhaps that was why Carrington +had not seemed to be very greatly disturbed over the knowledge that +Danforth had been defeated; certainly it was why Carrington had taken +the first train to the capital. + +Carrington was tingling with elation when he reached the capital; but on +making inquiries he found that the governor had left the city the day +before, and that he was not expected to return for several days. + +Carrington passed the interval renewing some acquaintances, and fuming +with impatience in the barroom, the billiard-room, and the lobby of his +hotel. + +But he was the first visitor admitted to the governor’s office when the +latter returned. + +The governor was a big man, flaccid and portly, and he received +Carrington with a big Stetson set rakishly on the back of his head and +an enormous black cigar in his mouth. That he was not a statesman but a +professional politician was quite as apparent from his appearance as was +his huge, welcoming smile, a certain indication that he was on terms of +intimate friendship with Carrington. Formerly an eastern political +worker, and a power in the councils of his party, his appointment as +governor of the Territory had come, not because of his ability to fill +the position, but as a reward for the delivery of certain votes which +had helped to make his party successful at the polls. He would be the +last carpetbag governor of the Territory, for the Territory had at last +been admitted to the Union; the new Legislature was even then in +session; charters were already being issued to municipalities that +desired self-government—and the governor, soon to quit his position as +temporary chief, had no real interest in the new régime, and no desire +to aid in eliminating the inevitable confusion. + +“Take a seat, Jim,” he invited, “and have a cigar. My secretary tells me +you’ve been buzzing around here like a bee lost from the hive, for the +past week.” He grinned hugely at Carrington, poking the latter playfully +in the ribs as Carrington essayed to light the cigar that had been given +him. + +“Worried about that man Taylor, in Dawes, eh?” he went on, as Carrington +smoked. “Well, it _was_ too bad that Danforth didn’t trim him, wasn’t +it? But”—and his eyes narrowed—“I’m still governor, and Taylor isn’t +mayor yet—and never will be!” + +Carrington smiled. “You saw the mistake, too, eh?” + +“Saw it!” boomed the governor. “I’ve been watching that town as a cat +watches a mouse. Itching for the clean-up, Jim,” he whispered. “Why, +I’ve got the papers all made out—ousting him and appointing Danforth +mayor. Right here they are.” He reached into a pigeon-hole and drew out +some legal papers. “You can serve them yourself. Just hand them to Judge +Littlefield—he’ll do the rest. It’s likely—if Taylor starts a fuss, +that you’ll have to help Littlefield handle the case—arranging for +deputies, and such. If you need any more help, just wire me. I don’t +pack my carpetbag for a year yet, and we can do a lot of work in that +time.” + +Carrington and the governor talked for an hour or more, and when +Carrington left for the office he was grinning with pleasurable +anticipation. For a municipality, already sovereign according to the +laws of the people, had been delivered into his hands. + +Just at dusk on Tuesday evening Carrington alighted from the train at +Dawes. He went to his rooms in the Castle, removed the stains of travel, +descended the stairs to the dining-room, and ate heartily; then, +stopping at the cigar-counter to light a cigar, he inquired of the clerk +where he could find Judge Littlefield. + +“He’s got a house right next to the courthouse—on your left, from +here,” the clerk told him. + +A few minutes later Carrington was seated opposite Judge Littlefield, +with a table between them, in the front room of the judge’s residence. + +“My name is Carrington—James J.,” was Carrington’s introduction of +himself. “I have just left the governor, and he gave me these, to hand +over to you.” He shoved over the papers the governor had given him, +smiling slightly at the other. + +The judge answered the smile with a beaming smirk. + +“I’ve heard of you,” he said; “the governor has often spoken of you.” He +glanced hastily over the papers, and his smirk widened. “The good people +of Dawes will be rather shocked over this decision, I suppose. But +laymen _will_ confuse things—won’t they? Now, if Norton and his friends +had come to _me_ before they decided to enter Taylor’s name, this thing +would not have happened.” + +“I’m glad it _did_ happen,” laughed Carrington. “The chances are that +even Norton would have beaten Danforth, and then the governor could not +have interfered.” + +Carrington’s gaze became grim as he looked at the judge. “You are +prepared to go the limit in this case, I suppose?” he interrogated. +“There is a chance that Taylor and his friends will attempt to make +trouble. But any trouble is to be handled firmly, you understand. There +is to be no monkey business. If they accept the law’s mandates, as all +law-abiding citizens should accept it, all well and good. And if they +don’t—and they want trouble, we’ll give them that! Understand?” + +“Perfectly,” smiled the judge. “The law is not to be assailed.” + +Smilingly he bowed Carrington out. + +Carrington took a turn down the street, walking until his cigar burned +itself out; then he entered the hotel and sat for a time in the lobby. +Then he went to bed, satisfied that he had done a good week’s work, and +conscious that he had launched a heavy blow at the man for whom he had +conceived a great and bitter hatred. + + + + +CHAPTER XI—“NO FUN FOOLING HER” + + +Accompanied by Martha, who rode one of the horses Parsons had bought, +Marion Harlan began her trip to the Arrow shortly after dawn. + +The girl had said nothing to Parsons regarding her meeting with Taylor +the previous day, nor of her intention to pass the day at the Arrow. For +she feared that Parsons might make some objection—and she wanted to go. + +That she feared her uncle’s deterrent influence argued that she was +aware that she was doing wrong in going to the Arrow—even with Martha +as chaperon; but that was, perhaps, the very reason the thought of going +engaged her interest. + +She wondered many times, as she rode, with the negro woman trailing her, +if there was not inherent in her some of those undesirable traits +concerning which the good people of Westwood had entertained fears. + +The thought crimsoned her cheeks and brightened her eyes; but she knew +she had no vicious thoughts—that she was going to the Arrow, not +because she wanted to see Taylor again, but because she wanted to sit in +the room that had been occupied by her father. She wanted to look again +at his belongings, to feel his former presence—as she had felt it while +gazing out over the vast level beyond the river, where he had ridden +many times. + +She looked in on Mrs. Mullarky as they passed the Mullarky cabin, and +when the good woman learned of her proposed visit to the Arrow, she gave +her entire approval. + +“I don’t blame you, darlin’,” declared Mrs. Mullarky. “Let the world +jabber—if it wants to. If it was me father that had been over there, +I’d stay there, takin’ Squint Taylor at his word—an’ divvle a bit I’d +care what the world would say about it!” + +So Marion rode on, slightly relieved. But the crimson stain was still on +her cheeks when she and Martha dismounted at the porch, and she looked +fearfully around, half-expecting that Taylor would appear from +somewhere, having tricked her. + +But Taylor was nowhere in sight. A fat man appeared from somewhere in +the vicinity of the stable, doffed his hat politely, informed her that +he was the “stable boss” and would care for the horses; he having been +delegated by Taylor to perform whatever service Miss Harlan desired; and +ambled off, leading the horses, leaving the girl and Martha standing +near the edge of the porch. + +Marion entered the house with a strange feeling of guilt and shame. +Standing in the open doorway—where she had seen Taylor standing when +she had dismounted the day before—she was afflicted with regret and +mortification over her coming. It wasn’t right for a girl to do as she +was doing; and for an instant she hesitated on the verge of flight. + +But Martha’s voice directly behind her, reassured her. + +“They ain’t a soul here, honey—not a soul. You’ve got the whole house +to yo’self. This am a lark—shuah enough. He, he, he!” + +It was the voice of the temptress—and Marion heeded it. With a defiant +toss of her head she entered the room, took off her hat, laid it on a +convenient table, calmly telling Martha to do the same. Then she went +boldly from one room to another, finally coming to a halt in the doorway +of the room that had been occupied by her father. + +For her that room seemed to hallow the place. It was as though her +father were here with her; as though there were no need of Martha being +here with her. The thought of it removed any stigma that might have been +attached to her coming; it made her heedless of the opinion of the world +and its gossip-mongers. + +She forgot the world in her interest, and for more than an hour, with +Martha sitting in a chair sympathetically watching her, she reveled in +the visible proofs of her father’s occupancy of the room. + +Later she and Martha went out on the porch, where, seated in +rocking-chairs—that had not been on the porch the day before—she +filled her mental vision with pictures of her father’s life at the +Arrow. Those pictures were imaginary, but they were intensely satisfying +to the girl who had loved her father, for she could almost see him +moving about her. + +“You shuah does look soft an’ dreamy, honey,” Martha told her once. “You +looks jes’ like a delicate ghost. A while ago, lookin’ at you, I shuah +was scared you was goin’ to blow away!” + +But Marion was not the ethereal wraith that Martha thought her. She +proved that a little later, when, with the negro woman abetting her, she +went into the house and prepared dinner. For she ate so heartily that +Martha was forced to amend her former statement. + +“For a ghost you shuah does eat plenty, honey,” she said. + +Later they were out on the porch again. The big level on the other side +of the river was flooded with a slumberous sunshine, with the glowing, +rose haze of early afternoon enveloping it, and the girl was enjoying it +when there came an interruption. + +A cowboy emerged from a building down near the corral—Marion learned +later that the building was the bunkhouse, which meant that it was used +as sleeping-quarters for the Arrow outfit—and walked, with the rolling +stride so peculiar to his kind, toward the porch. + +He was a tall young man, red of face, and just now affected with a +mighty embarrassment, which was revealed in the awkward manner in which +he removed his hat and shuffled his feet as he came to a halt within a +few feet of Marion. + +“The boss wants to know how you are gettin’ along, ma’am, an’ if there’s +anything you’re wantin’?” + +“We are enjoying ourselves immensely, thank you; and there is nothing we +want—particularly.” + +The puncher had turned to go before the girl thought of the significance +of the “boss.” + +Her face was a trifle pale as she called to the puncher. + +“Who is your boss—if you please?” she asked. + +The puncher wheeled, a slow grin on his face. + +“Why, Squint Taylor, ma’am.” + +She sat erect. “Do you mean that Mr. Taylor is here?” + +“He’s in the bunkhouse, ma’am.” + +She got up, and, holding her head very erect, began to walk toward the +room in which she had left her hat. + +But half-way across the porch the puncher’s voice halted her: + +“Squint was sayin’ you didn’t expect him to be here, an’ that I’d have +to do the explainin’. He couldn’t come, you see.” + +“Ashamed, I suppose,” she said coldly. + +She was facing the puncher now, and she saw him grin. + +“Why, no, ma’am; I don’t reckon he’s a heap ashamed. But it’d be mighty +inconvenient for him. You see, ma’am, this mornin’, when he was gittin’ +ready to ride to the south line, his cayuse got an ornery streak an’ +throwed him, sprainin’ Squint’s ankle.” + +The girl’s emotions suddenly reacted; the resentment she had yielded to +became self-reproach. For she had judged hastily, and she had always +felt that one had no right to judge hastily. + +And Taylor had been remarkably considerate; for he had not even +permitted her to know of the accident until after noon. That indicated +that he had no intention of forcing himself on her. + +She hesitated, saw Martha grinning into a hand, looked at the puncher’s +expressionless face, and felt that she had been rather prudish. Her +cheeks flushed with color. + +Taylor had actually been a martyr on a small scale in confining himself +to the bunkhouse, when he could have enjoyed the comforts and +spaciousness of the ranchhouse if it had not been for her own presence. + +“Is—is his ankle badly sprained?” she hesitatingly asked the now +sober-faced puncher. + +“Kind of bad, ma’am; he ain’t been able to do no walkin’ on it. Been +hobblin’ an’ swearin’, mostly, ma’am. It’s sure a trial to be near him.” + +“And it is warm here; it must be terribly hot in that little place!” + +She was at the edge of the porch now, her face radiating sympathy. + +“I am not surprised that he should swear!” she told the puncher, who +grinned and muttered: + +“He’s sure first class at it, ma’am.” + +“Why,” she said, paying no attention to the puncher’s compliment of his +employer, “he is hurt, and I have been depriving him of his house. You +tell him to come right out of that stuffy place! Help him to come here!” + +And without waiting to watch the puncher depart, she darted into the +house, pulled a big rocker out on the porch, got a pillow and arranged +it so that it would form a resting-place for the injured man’s +head—providing he decided to occupy the chair, which she doubted—and +then stood on the edge of the porch, awaiting his appearance. + +Inside the bunkhouse the puncher was grinning at Taylor, who, with his +right foot swathed in bandages, was sitting on a bench, anxiously +awaiting the delivery of the puncher’s message. + +“Well, talk, you damned grinning inquisitor!” was Taylor’s greeting to +the puncher. “What did she say?” + +“At first she didn’t seem to be a heap overjoyed to know that you was in +this country,” said the other; “but when she heard you’d been hurt she +sort of stampeded, invitin’ you to come an’ set on the porch with her.” + +Taylor got up and started for the door, the bandaged foot dragging +clumsily. + +“Shucks,” drawled the puncher; “if you go to _runnin’_ to her she’ll +have suspicions. Accordin’ to my notion, she expects you to come a +hobblin’, same as though your leg was broke. ‘Help him to come,’ she +told me. An’ you’re goin’ that way—you hear me! I’ll bust your ankle +with a club before I’ll have her think I’m a liar!” + +“Maybe I _was_ a little eager,” grinned Taylor. + +An instant later he stepped out of the bunkhouse door, leaning heavily +on the puncher’s shoulder. + +The two made slow progress to the porch; and Taylor’s ascent to the +porch and his final achievement of the rocking-chair were accomplished +slowly, with the assistance of Miss Harlan. + +Then, with a face almost the color of the scarlet neckerchief he wore, +Taylor watched the retreat of the puncher. + +His face became redder when Miss Harlan drew another rocker close to his +and demanded to be told the story of the accident. + +“My own fault,” declared Taylor. “I was in a hurry. Accidents always +happen that way, don’t they? Slipped trying to swing on my horse, with +him running. Missed the stirrup. Clumsy, wasn’t it?” + +Eager to keep his word, of course, Marion reasoned. She had insisted +that he be gone when she arrived, and he had injured himself hurrying. + +She watched him as he talked of the accident. And now for the first time +she understood why he had acquired the nickname Squint. + +His eyes were deep-set, though not small. He did not really squint, for +there was plenty of room between the eyelids—which, by the way, were +fringed with lashes that might have been the envy of any woman; but +there were many little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, which spread +fanwise toward cheek and brow, and these created the illusion of +squinting. + +Also, he had a habit of partially closing his eyes when looking directly +at one; and at such times they held a twinkling glint that caused one to +speculate over their meaning. + +Miss Harlan was certain the twinkle meant humor. But other persons had +been equally sure the twinkle meant other emotions, or passion. Looking +into Taylor’s eyes in the dining-car, Carrington had decided they were +filled with cold, implacable hostility, with the promise of violence, to +himself. And yet the squint had not been absent. + +Whatever had been expressed in the eyes had been sufficient to deter +Carrington from his announced purpose to “knock hell out of” their +owner. + +The girl was aware that Taylor was not handsome; that his attractions +were not of a surface character. Something about him struck deeper than +that. A subtle magnetism gripped her—the magnetism of strength, moral +and mental. In his eyes she could see the signs of it; in the lines of +his jaw and the set of his lips were suggestions of indomitability and +force. + +All the visible signs were, however, glossed over with the deep, slow +humor that radiated from him, that glowed in his eyes. + +It all made her conscious of a great similarity between them; for +despite the doubts and suspicions of the people of Westwood, she had +been able to survive—and humor had been the grace that had saved her +from disappointment and pessimism. Those other traits in Taylor—visible +to one who studied him—she knew for her own; and her spirits now +responded to his. + +Her cheeks were glowing as she looked at him, and her eyes, half veiled +by the drooping lashes, were dancing with mischief. + +“You were in that hot bunkhouse all morning,” she said. “Why didn’t you +send word before?” + +“You were careful to tell me that you didn’t want me around when you +came.” + +There was a gleam of reproach in his eyes. + +“But you were injured!” + +“Look how things go in the world,” he invited, narrowing his eyes at +her. “It’s almost enough to make a man let go all holds and just drift +along. Maybe a man would be just as well off. + +“Early this morning I knew I had to light out for the day, and I didn’t +want to go any more than a gopher wants to go into a rattlesnake’s den. +But I had to keep my word. Then Spotted Tail gets notions——” + +“Spotted Tail?” she interrupted. + +“My horse,” he grinned at her. “He gets notions. Maybe he wants to get +away as much as I want to stay. Anyhow, he was in a hurry; and things +shape up so that I’ve got to stay. + +“And then, when I hang around the bunkhouse all morning, worrying +because I’m afraid you’ll find out that I didn’t keep my word, and that +I’m still here, you send word that you’ll not object to me coming on the +porch with you. I’d call that a misjudgment all around—on my part.” + +“Yes—it was that,” she told him. “You certainly are entitled to the +comforts of your own house—especially when you are hurt. But are you +sure you _worried_ because you were afraid I would discover you were +here?” + +“I expect you can prove that by looking at me, Miss Harlan—noticing +that I’ve got thin and pale-looking since you saw me last?” + +She threw a demure glance at him. “I am afraid you are in great danger; +you do not look nearly as well as when I saw you, the first time, on the +train.” + +He looked gravely at her. + +“The porter threw them out of the window,” he said. “That is, I gave him +orders to.” + +“What?” she said, perplexed. “I don’t understand. What did the porter +throw out of the window?” + +“My dude clothes,” he said. + +So he _had_ observed the ridicule in her eyes. + +She met his gaze, and both laughed. + +He had been curious about her all along, and he artfully questioned her +about Westwood, gradually drawing from her the rather unexciting details +of her life. Yet these details were chiefly volunteered, Taylor noticed, +and did not result entirely from his questions. + +Carrington’s name came into the discussion, also, and Parsons. Taylor +discovered that Carrington and Parsons had been partners in many +business deals, and that they had come to Dawes because the town offered +many possibilities. The girl quoted Carrington’s words; Taylor was +convinced that she knew nothing of the character of the business the men +had come to Dawes to transact. + +Their talk strayed to minor subjects and to those of great importance, +ranging from a discussion of prairie hens to sage comment upon certain +abstruse philosophy. Always, however, the personal note was dominant and +the personal interest acute. + +That atmosphere—the deep interest of each for the other—made their +conversation animated. For half the time the girl paid no attention to +Taylor’s words. She watched him when he talked, noting the various +shades of expression of his eyes, the curve of his lips, wondering at +the deep music of his voice. She marveled that at first she had thought +him uninteresting and plain. + +For she had discovered that he was rather good-looking; that he was +endowed with a natural instinct to reach accurate and logical +conclusions; that he was quiet-mannered and polite—and a gentleman. Her +first impressions of him had not been correct, for during their talk she +discovered through casual remarks, that Taylor had been educated with +some care, that his ancestors were of that sturdy American stock which +had made the settling of the eastern New-World wilderness possible, and +that there was in his manner the unmistakable gentleness of good +breeding. + +However, Taylor’s first impressions of the girl had endured without +amendations. At a glance he had yielded to the spell of her, and the +intimate and informal conversation carried on between them; the flashes +of personality he caught merely served to convince him of her +desirability. + +Twice during their talk Martha cleared her throat significantly and +loudly, trying to attract their attention. + +The efforts bore no fruit, and Martha might have been entirely forgotten +if she had not finally got to her feet and laid a hand on Marion’s +shoulder. + +“I’s gwine to lie down a spell, honey,” she said. “You-all don’t need no +third party to entertain you. An’ I’s powerful tiahd.” And over the +girl’s shoulder she smiled broadly and sympathetically at Taylor. + +The sun was filling the western level with a glowing, golden haze when +Miss Harlan got to her feet and announced that she was going home. + +“It’s the first day I have really enjoyed,” she told Taylor as she sat +in the saddle, looking at him. He had got up and was standing at the +porch edge. “That is, it is the first enjoyable day I have passed since +I have been here,” she added. + +“I wouldn’t say that I’ve been exactly bored myself,” he grinned at her. +“But I’m not so sure about Friday; for if you come Friday the chances +are that my ankle will be well again, and I’ll have to make myself +scarce. You see, my excuse will be gone.” + +Martha was sitting on her horse close by, and her eyes were dancing. + +“Don’ you go an’ bust your haid, Mr. Taylor!” she warned. “I knows +somebuddy that would be powerful sorry if that would happen to you!” + +“Martha!” said Marion severely. But her eyes were eloquent as they met +Taylor’s twinkling ones; and she saw a deep color come into Taylor’s +cheeks. + +Taylor watched her until she grew dim in the distance; then he turned +and faced the tall young puncher, who had stepped upon the porch and had +been standing near. + +The puncher grinned. “Takin’ ’em off now, boss?” he asked. + +He pointed to the bandages on Taylor’s right foot. In one of the young +puncher’s hands was Taylor’s right boot. + +“Yes,” returned Taylor. + +He sat down in the rocker he had occupied all afternoon, and the young +puncher removed the bandages, revealing Taylor’s bare foot and ankle, +with no bruise or swelling to mar the white skin. + +Taylor drew on the sock which the puncher drew from the boot; then he +pulled on the boot and stood up. + +The puncher was grinning hugely, but no smile was on Taylor’s face. + +“It worked, boss,” said the puncher; “she didn’t tumble. I thought I’d +laff my head off when I seen her fixin’ the pillow for you—an’ your +foot not hurt more than mine. You ought to be plumb tickled, pullin’ off +a trick like that!” + +“I ain’t a heap tickled,” declared Taylor glumly. “There’s no fun in +fooling _her_!” + +Which indicated that Taylor’s thoughts were now serious. + + + + +CHAPTER XII—LIFTING THE MASK + + +Elam Parsons awoke early in the morning following that on which Marion +Harlan’s visit to the Arrow occurred. He lay for a long time smiling at +the ceiling, with a feeling that something pleasurable was in store for +him, but not able to determine what that something was. + +It was not long, however, before Parsons remembered. + +When he had got out of bed the previous morning he had discovered the +absence of Marion and Martha. Also, he found that two of the horses were +missing—Marion’s, and one of the others he had personally bought. + +Parsons spent the day in Dawes. Shortly before dusk he got on his horse +and rode homeward. Dismounting at the stable, he noted that the two +absent horses had not come in. He grinned disagreeably and went into the +house. He emerged almost instantly, for Marion and Martha had not +returned. + +Later he saw them, Marion leading, coming up the slope that led to the +level upon which the house stood. + +Marion had retired early, and after she had gone to her room Parsons had +questioned Martha. + +Twice while getting into his clothes this morning Parsons chuckled +audibly. There was malicious amusement in the sound. + +Once he caught himself saying aloud: + +“I knew it would come, sooner or later. And she’s picked out the +clodhopper! This will tickle Carrington!” + +Again he laughed—such a laugh as the good people of Westwood might have +used had they known what Parsons knew—that Marion Harlan had visited a +stranger at his ranchhouse—a lonely place, far from prying eyes. + +Parsons hated the girl as heartily as he had hated her father. He hated +her because of her close resemblance to her parent; and he had hated +Larry Harlan ever since their first meeting. + +Parsons likewise had no affection for Carrington. They had been business +associates for many years, and their association had been profitable for +both; but there was none of that respect and admiration which marks many +partnerships. + +On several occasions Carrington had betrayed greediness in the division +of the spoils of their ventures. But Carrington was the strong man, +ruthless and determined, and Parsons was forced to nurse his resentment +in silence. He meant some day, however, to repay Carrington, and he lost +no opportunity to harass him. And yet it had been Parsons who had +brought Carrington to Westwood two years before. He knew Carrington; he +knew something of the big man’s way with women, of his merciless +treatment of them. And he had invited Carrington to Westwood, hoping +that the big man would add Marion Harlan to his list of victims. + +So far, Carrington had made little progress. This fact, contrary to +Parsons’ principles, had afforded the man secret enjoyment. He liked to +see Carrington squirm under disappointment. He anticipated much pleasure +in watching Carrington’s face when he should tell him where Marion had +been the day before. + +He breakfasted alone—early—chuckling his joy. And shortly after he +left the table he was on a horse, riding toward Dawes. + +He reached town about eight and went directly to Carrington’s rooms in +the Castle. + +Carrington had shaved and washed, and was sitting at a front window, +coatless, his hair uncombed, when Parsons knocked on the door. + +“You’re back, eh?” said Parsons as he took a chair near the window. +“Danforth was telling me you went to see the governor. Did you fix it?” + +Carrington grinned. “Taylor was to take the oath today. He won’t take +it—at least, not the sort of oath he expected.” + +“It’s lucky you knew the governor.” + +“H-m.” The grim grunt indicated that, governor or no governor, +Carrington would not be denied. + +Parsons smirked. But Carrington detected an unusual quality in the +smirk—something more than satisfaction over the success of the visit to +the governor. There was malicious amusement in the smirk, and +anticipation. Parsons’ expressed satisfaction was not over what _had_ +happened, but over what was _going_ to happen. + +Carrington knew Parsons, and therefore Carrington gave no sign of what +he had seen in Parsons’ face. He talked of Dawes and of their own +prospects. But once, when Carrington mentioned Marion Harlan, quite +casually, he noted that Parsons’ eyes widened. + +But Parsons said nothing on the subject which had brought him until he +had talked for half an hour. Then, noting that his manner had aroused +Carrington’s interest, he said softly: + +“This man, Taylor, seems destined to get in your way, doesn’t he?” + +“What do you mean?” demanded Carrington shortly. + +“Do you remember telling me—on the train, with this man, Taylor, +listening—that your story to Marion, of her father having been seen in +this locality, was a fairy tale—without foundation?” + +At Carrington’s nod Parsons continued: + +“Well, it seems it was not a fairy tale, after all. For Larry Harlan was +in his section for two or three years!” + +“Who told you that?” Carrington slid forward in his chair and was +looking hard at Parsons. + +Parsons was enjoying the other’s astonishment, and Parsons was not to be +hurried—he wanted to _taste_ the flavor of his news; it was as good to +his palate as a choice morsel of food to the palate of a disciple of +Epicurus. + +“It came in a sort of roundabout way, I understand,” said Parsons. “It +seems that during your absence Marion made a number of inquiries about +her father. Then a man named Ben Mullarky rode over to the house and +told her that Larry had been in this country—that he had worked for the +Arrow.” + +“That’s Taylor’s ranch,” said Carrington. A deep scowl furrowed his +forehead; his lips extended in a sullen pout. + +Parsons was enjoying him. “Taylor again, eh?” he said softly. “First, he +appears on the train, where he gets an earful of something we don’t want +him to hear; then he is elected mayor, which is detrimental to our +interests; then we discover that Larry Harlan worked for him. _You’ll_ +be interested to know that Marion went right over to the Arrow—in fact, +she spent part of Monday there, and practically _all_ of yesterday. +More, Taylor has invited her to come whenever she wants to.” + +“She went alone?” demanded Carrington. + +“With Martha, my negro housekeeper. But that—” Parsons made a gesture +of derision and went on: “Martha says Taylor was there with her, and +that the two of them—with Martha asleep in the house—spent the entire +afternoon on the porch, talking rather intimately.” + +To Parsons’ surprise Carrington did not betray the perturbation Parsons +expected. The scowl was still furrowing his forehead, his lips were +still in the sullen pout; but he said nothing, looking steadily at +Parsons. + +At last his lips moved slightly; Parsons could see the clenched teeth +between them. + +“Where’s Larry Harlan now?” + +Parsons related the story told him by Martha—which had been imparted to +the negro woman by Marion in confidence—that Larry Harlan had been +accidentally killed, searching for a mine. + +When Parsons finished Carrington got up. There was a grin on his face as +he stepped to where Parsons sat and placed his two hands heavily on the +other’s shoulders. + +There was a grin on his face, but his eyes were agleam with a slumbering +passion that made Parsons catch his breath with a gasp. And his voice, +low, and freighted with menace, caused Parsons to quake with terror. + +“Parsons,” he said, “I want you to understand this: I am going to be the +law out here. I’ll run things to suit myself. I’ll have no half-hearted +loyalty, and I’ll destroy any man who opposes me! Those who are not with +me to the last gasp are against me!” He laughed, and Parsons felt the +man’s hot breath on his face—so close was it to his own. + +“I was born a thousand years too late, Parsons!” he went on. “I am a +robber baron brought down to date—modernized. I believe that in me +flows the blood of a pirate, a savage, or an ancient king; I have all +the instincts of a tribal chief whose principles are to rule or ruin! +I’ll have no law out here but my own desires; and hypocrisy—in +others—doesn’t appeal to me! + +“You’ve told me a tale that interested me, but in the telling of it you +made one mistake—you enjoyed the discomfiture you thought it would give +me. You tingled with malice. Just to show you that I’ll not tolerate +disloyalty from you—even in thought—I’m going to punish you.” + +He dropped his big hands to Parsons’ throat, shutting off the incipient +scream that issued from between the man’s lips. Parsons fought with all +his strength to escape the grip of the iron fingers at his throat, +twisting and squirming frenziedly in the chair. But the fingers +tightened their grip, and when the man’s face began to turn blue-black, +Carrington released him and looked down at his victim, laughing +vibrantly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII—THE SHADOW OF TROUBLE + + +Elam recovered slowly, for Carrington had choked him into +unconsciousness. Out of the blank, dark coma Parsons came, his brain +reeling, his body racked with agonizing pains. His hands went to his +throat before he could open his eyes; he pulled at the flesh to ease the +constriction that still existed there; he caught his breath in great +gasps that shrilled through the room. And when at last he succeeded in +getting his breath to come regularly, he opened his eyes and saw +Carrington seated in a chair near him, watching him with a cold, +speculative smile. + +He heard Carrington’s voice saying: “Pretty close, wasn’t it, Parsons?” +But he did not answer; his vocal cords were still partially paralyzed. + +He closed his eyes again and stretched out in the chair. Carrington +thought he had fainted, but Parsons was merely resting—and thinking. + +His thoughts were not pleasant. Many times during the years of their +association he had seen the beast in Carrington’s eyes, but this was the +first time Carrington had even shown it in his presence, naked and ugly. +Carrington had told him many times that were he not hemmed in with laws +and courts he would tramp ruthlessly over every obstacle that got in his +way; and Parsons knew now that the man had meant what he said. The beast +in him was rampant; his passions were to have free rein; he had thrown +off the shackles of civilization and was prepared to do murder to attain +his aims. + +Parsons realized his own precarious predicament. Carrington controlled +every cent Parsons owned—it was in the common pool, which was in +Carrington’s charge. Parsons might leave Dawes, but his money must +stay—Carrington would never give it up. More, Parsons was now afraid to +ask for an accounting or a division, for fear Carrington would kill him. + +Parsons knew he must stay in Dawes, and that from now on he must play +lackey to the master who, at last in an environment that suited him, had +so ruthlessly demonstrated his principles. + +In a spirit of abject surrender Parsons again opened his eyes and sat +up. Carrington rose and again stood over him. + +“You understand now, Parsons, I’m running things. You stay in the +background. If you interfere with me I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you if you +laugh at me again. Your job out here is to take care of Marion Harlan. +You’re to keep her here. If she gets away I’ll manhandle you! Now get +out of here!” + +An hour later Parsons was sitting on the front porch of the big house, +staring vacantly out into the big level below him, his heart full of +hatred and impotent resentment; his brain, formerly full of craft and +guile, now temporarily atrophied through its attempts to comprehend the +new character of the man who had throttled him. + +In Dawes, Carrington was getting into his clothing. He was smiling, his +eyes glowing with grim satisfaction. At nine o’clock Carrington +descended the stairs, stopped in the hotel lobby to light a cigar; then +crossed the street and went into the courthouse, where he was greeted +effusively by Judge Littlefield. Quinton Taylor, too, was going to the +courthouse. + +This morning at ten o’clock, according to information received from Neil +Norton—sent to Taylor by messenger the night before—Taylor was to take +the oath of office. + +Taylor was conscious of the honor bestowed upon him by the people of +Dawes, though at first he had demurred, pointing out that he was not +actually a resident of the town—the Arrow lying seven miles southward. +But this objection had been met and dismissed by his friends, who had +insisted that he was a resident of the town by virtue of his large +interests there, and from the fact that he occupied an apartment above +the Dawes bank, and that he spent more time in it than he spent in the +Arrow ranchhouse. + +But on the ride to Dawes—on Spotted Tail—(this morning wonderfully +docile despite Tuesday’s slander by his master)—Taylor’s thoughts dwelt +not upon the honor that was to be his, but upon the questionable trick +he had played on Marion Harlan, with the able assistance of the tall +young puncher, Bud Hemmingway. + +He looked down at the foot, now unbandaged, with a frown. The girl’s +complete and matter-of-fact belief in the story of his injury; her +sympathy and deep concern; the self-accusation in her eyes; the instant +pardon she had granted him for staying at the ranchhouse when he should +not have stayed—all these he arrayed against the bald fact that he had +tricked her. And he felt decidedly guilty. + +And yet somehow there was some justification for the trick. It was the +justification of desire. The things a man wants are not to be denied by +the narrow standards of custom. Does a man miss an opportunity to +establish acquaintance with a girl he has fallen in love with, merely +because custom has decreed that she shall not come unattended—save by a +negro woman—to his house? + +Taylor made desire his justification, and his sense of guilt was +dispelled by half. + +Nor was the guilt so poignant that it rested heavily on his conscience +since he had done no harm to the girl. + +What harm had been done had been done to Taylor himself. He kept seeing +Marion as she sat on the porch, and the spell of her had seized him so +firmly that last night, after she had left, the ranchhouse had seemed to +be nothing more than four walls out of which all the life had gone. He +felt lonesome this morning, and was in the grip of a nameless longing. + +All the humor had departed from him. For the first time in all his days +a conception of the meaning of life assailed him, revealing to him a +glimpse of the difficulties of a man in love. For a man may love a girl: +his difficulties begin when the girl seems to become unattainable. + +Looming large in Taylor’s thoughts this morning was Carrington. Having +overheard Carrington talking of her on the train, Taylor thought he knew +what Carrington wanted; but he was in doubt regarding the state of the +girl’s feelings toward the man. Had she yielded to the man’s intense +personal magnetism? + +Carrington was handsome; there was no doubt that almost any girl would +be flattered by his attentions. And had Carrington been worthy of +Marion, Taylor would have entertained no hope of success—he would not +even have thought of it. + +But he had overheard Carrington; he knew the man’s nature was vile and +bestial; and already he hated him with a fervor that made his blood riot +when he thought of him. + +When he reached Dawes he found himself hoping that Marion would not be +in town to see that his ankle was unbandaged. But he might have saved +himself that throb of perturbation, for at that minute Marion was +standing in the front room of the big house, looking out of one of the +windows at Parsons, wondering what had happened to make him seem so glum +and abstracted. + +When Taylor dismounted in front of the courthouse there were several men +grouped on the sidewalk near the door. + +Neil Norton was in the group, and he came forward, smiling. + +“We’re here to witness the ceremony,” he told Taylor. + +Taylor’s greeting to the other men was not that of the professional +politician. He merely grinned at them and returned a short: “Well, let’s +get it over with,” to Norton’s remark. Then, followed by his friends, he +entered the courthouse. + +Taylor knew Judge Littlefield. He had no admiration for the man, and yet +his greeting was polite and courteous—it was the greeting of an +American citizen to an official. + +Taylor’s first quick glance about the interior of the courthouse showed +him Carrington. The latter was sitting in an armchair near a window +toward the rear of the room. He smiled as Taylor’s glance swept him, but +Taylor might not have seen the smile. For Taylor was deeply interested +in other things. + +A conception of the serious responsibility that he was to accept +assailed him. Until now the thing had been entirely personal; his +thoughts had centered upon the honor that was to be his—his friends had +selected him for an important position. And yet Taylor was not vain. + +Now, however, ready to accept the oath of office, he realized that he +was to become the servant of the municipality; that these friends of his +had elected him not merely to honor him but because they trusted him, +because they were convinced that he would administer the affairs of the +young town capably and in a fair and impartial manner. They depended +upon him for justice, advice, and guidance. + +All these things, to be sure, Taylor would give them to the best of his +ability. They must have known that or they would not have elected him. + +These thoughts sobered him as he walked to the little wooden railing in +front of the judge’s desk; and his face was grave as he looked at the +other. + +“I am ready to take the oath, Judge Littlefield,” he gravely announced. + +Glancing sidewise, Taylor saw that a great many men had come into the +room. He did not turn to look at them, however, for he saw a gleam in +Judge Littlefield’s eyes that held his attention. + +“That will not be necessary, Mr. Taylor,” he heard the judge say. “The +governor, through the attorney-general, has ruled you were not legally +elected to the office you aspire to. Only last night I was notified of +the decision. It was late, or I should have taken steps to apprise you +of the situation.” + +Taylor straightened. He heard exclamations from many men in the room; he +was conscious of a tension that had come into the atmosphere. Some men +scuffled their feet; and then there was a deep silence. + +Taylor smiled without mirth. His dominant emotion was curiosity. + +“Not legally elected?” he said. “Why?” + +The judge passed a paper to Taylor; it was one of those that had been +delivered to the judge by Carrington. + +The judge did not meet Taylor’s eyes. + +“You’ll find a full statement of the case, there,” he said. “Briefly, +however, the governor finds that your name did not appear on the +ballots.” + +Norton, who had been standing at Taylor’s side all along, now shoved his +way to the railing and leaned over it, his face white with wrath. + +“There’s something wrong here, Judge Littlefield!” he charged. “Taylor’s +name was on every ballot that was counted for him. I personally examined +every ballot!” + +The judge smiled tolerantly, almost benignantly. + +“Of course—to be sure,” he said. “Mr. Taylor’s name appeared on a good +many ballots; his friends _wrote_ it, with pencil, and otherwise. But +the law expressly states that a candidate’s name must be _printed_. +Therefore, obeying the letter of the law, the governor has ruled that +Mr. Taylor was not elected.” There was malicious satisfaction in Judge +Littlefield’s eyes as they met Taylor’s. Taylor could see that the judge +was in entire sympathy with the influences that were opposing him, +though the judge tried, with a grave smile, to create an impression of +impartiality. + +“Under the governor’s ruling, therefore,” he continued, “and acting +under explicit directions from the attorney-general, I am empowered to +administer the oath of office to the legally elected candidate, David +Danforth. Now, if Mr. Danforth is in the courtroom, and will come +forward, we shall conclude.” + +Mr. Danforth was in the courtroom; he was sitting near Carrington; and +he came forward, his face slightly flushed, with the gaze of every +person in the room on him. + +He smiled apologetically at Taylor as he reached the railing, extending +a hand. + +“I’m damned sorry, Taylor,” he declared. “This is all a surprise to me. +I hadn’t any doubt that they would swear you in. No hard feelings?” + +Taylor had been conscious of the humiliation of his position. He knew +that his friends would expect him to fight. And yet he felt more like +gracefully yielding to the forces which had barred him from office upon +the basis of so slight a technicality. And despite the knowledge that he +had been robbed of the office, he would have taken Danforth’s hand, had +he not at that instant chanced to glance at Carrington. + +The latter’s eyes were aglow with a vindictive triumph; as his gaze met +Taylor’s, his lips curved with a sneer. + +A dark passion seized Taylor—the bitter, savage rage of jealousy. The +antagonism he had felt for Carrington that day on the train when he had +heard Carrington’s voice for the first time was suddenly intensified. It +had been growing slowly, provoked by his knowledge of the man’s evil +designs on Marion Harlan. But now there had come into the first +antagonism a gripping lust to injure the other, a determination to balk +him, to defeat him, to meet him on his own ground and crush him. + +For Carrington’s sneer had caused the differences between them to become +sharply personal; it would make the fight that was brewing between the +two men not a political fight, but a fight of the spirit. + +Taylor interpreted the sneer as a challenge, and he accepted it. His +eyes gleamed with hatred unmistakable as they held Carrington’s; and the +grin on his lips was the cold, unhumorous grin of the fighter who is not +dismayed by odds. His voice was low and sharp, and it carried to every +person in the room: + +“We won’t shake, Danforth; you are not particular enough about the +character of your friends!” + +The look was significant, and it compelled the eyes of all of Taylor’s +friends, so that Carrington instantly found himself the center of +interest. + +However, he did not change color; on his face a bland smile testified to +his entire indifference to what Taylor or Taylor’s friends thought of +him. + +Taylor grinned mirthlessly at the judge, spoke shortly to Norton, and +led the way out through the front door, followed by a number of his +friends. + +Norton took Taylor into his office, adjoining the courthouse, and threw +himself into a chair, grumbling profanely. Outside they could see the +crowd filing down the street, voicing its opinion of the startling +proceeding. + +“An election is an election,” they heard one man say—a Taylor +sympathizer. “What difference does it make that Taylor’s name wasn’t +_printed_? It’s a dawg-gone frame-up, that’s what it is!” + +But Danforth’s adherents were not lacking; and there were arguments in +loud, vigorous language among men who passed the door of the _Eagle_ +office. + +“I could have printed the damned ballots, myself—if I had thought it +necessary,” mourned Norton. “And now we’re skinned out of it!” + +Norton’s disgust was complete and bitter; he had slid down in the chair, +his chin on his chest, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his +trousers. + +Yet his dejection had not infected Taylor; the latter’s lips were curved +in a faint smile, ironic and saturnine. It was plain to Norton that +whatever humor there was in the situation was making its appeal to +Taylor. The thought angered Norton, and he sat up, demanding sharply: +“Well, what in hell are you going to do about it?” + +Taylor grinned at the other. “Nothing, now,” he said. “We might appeal +to the courts, but if the law specifies that a candidate’s name must be +printed, the courts would sustain the governor. It looks to me, Norton, +as though Carrington and Danforth have the cards stacked.” + +Norton groaned and again slid down into his chair. He heard Taylor go +out, but he did not change his position. He sat there with his eyes +closed, profanely accusing himself, for he alone was to blame for the +complete defeat that had descended upon his candidate; and he could not +expect Taylor to fight a law which, though unjust and arbitrary, was the +only law in the Territory. + +Taylor had not gone far. He stepped into the door of the courthouse, to +meet Carrington, who was coming out. Danforth and Judge Littlefield were +talking animatedly in the rear of the room. They ceased talking when +they saw Taylor, and faced toward him, looking at him wonderingly. + +Carrington halted just inside the threshold of the doorway, and he, too, +watched Taylor curiously, though there was a bland, sneering smile on +his face. + +Taylor’s smile as he looked at the men was still faintly ironic, and his +eyes were agleam with a light that baffled the other men—they could not +determine just what emotion they reflected. + +And Taylor’s manner was as quietly deliberate and nonchalant as though +he had merely stepped into the room for a social visit. His gaze swept +the three men. + +“Framing up—again, eh?” he said, with drawling emphasis. “You sure did +a good job for a starter. I just stepped in to say a few words to +you—all of you. To you first, Littlefield.” And now his eyes held the +judge—they seemed to squint genially at the man. + +“I happen to know that our big, sleek four-flusher here”—nodding toward +Carrington—“came here to loot Dawes. Quite accidentally, I overheard +him boasting of his intentions. Danforth was sent here by Carrington +more than a year ago to line things up, politically. I don’t know how +many are in the game—and I don’t care. You are in it, Littlefield. I +saw that by the delight you took in informing me of the decision of the +attorney-general. I just stepped in to tell you that I know what is +going on, and to warn you that you can’t do it! You had better pull out +before you make an ass of yourself, Littlefield!” + +The judge’s face was crimson. “This is an outrage, Taylor!” he +sputtered. “I’ll have you jailed for contempt of court!” + +“Not you!” gibed Taylor, calmly. “You haven’t the nerve! I’d like +nothing better than to have you do it. You’re a little fuzzy dog that +doesn’t crawl out of its kennel until it hears the snap of its master’s +fingers! That’s all for you!” + +He grinned at Danforth, felinely, and the man flushed under the odd +gleam in the eyes that held his. + +“I can classify you with one word, Dave,” he declared; “you’re a crook! +That lets you out; you do what you are told!” + +He now ignored the others and faced Carrington. + +His grin faded quickly, the lips stiffening. But still there was a hint +of cold humor in his manner that created the impression that he was +completely in earnest; that he was keenly enjoying himself and that he +did not feel at all tragic. And yet, underlying the mask of humor, +Carrington saw the passionate hatred Taylor felt for him. + +Carrington sneered. He attempted to smile, but the malevolent bitterness +of his passions turned the smile into a hideous smirk. He had hated +Taylor at first sight; and now, with the jealousy provoked by the +knowledge that Taylor had turned his eyes toward Marion Harlan, the +hatred had become a lust to destroy the other. + +Before Taylor could speak, Carrington stepped toward him, thrusting his +face close to Taylor’s. The man was in the grip of a mighty rage that +bloated his face, that made his breath come in great labored gasps. He +had not meant to so boldly betray his hatred, but the violence of his +passions drove him on. + +He knew that Taylor was baiting him, mocking him, taunting him; that +Taylor’s words to the judge and to Danforth had been uttered with the +grimly humorous purpose of arousing the men to some unwise and +precipitate action; he knew that Taylor was enjoying the confusion he +had brought. + +But Carrington had lost his self-control. + +Without a word, but with a smothered imprecation that issued gutturally +from between his clenched teeth, he swung a fist with bitter malignance +at Taylor’s face. + +The blow did not land, for Taylor, self-possessed and alert, had been +expecting it. He slipped his head sidewise slightly, evading the fist by +a narrow margin, and, tensed, his muscles taut, he drove his own right +fist upward, heavily. + +Carrington, reeling forward under the impetus of the force he had +expended, ran fairly into the fist. It crashed to the point of his jaw +and he was unconscious, rigid, and upright on his feet in the instant +before he sagged and tumbled headlong out through the open doorway into +the street. + +With a bound, his face set in a mirthless grin, Taylor was after him, +landing beyond him in the windrowed dust at the edge of the sidewalk, +ready and willing to administer further punishment. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV—THE FACE OF A FIGHTER + + +Slouching in his chair, in an attitude of complete dejection, Neil +Norton was glumly digesting the dregs of defeat. + +The _Eagle_ office adjoined the courthouse. Both were one-story frame +structures, flimsy, with one thin wall between them; and to Norton’s +ears as he sat with his unpleasant thoughts, came the sound of voices, +muffled, but resonant. Someone was speaking with force and insistence. +Norton attuned his ears to the voice. It was then he discovered there +was only one voice, and that Taylor’s. + +He sat erect, both hands gripping the arms of his chair. Then he got up, +walked to the front door of the _Eagle_ office, and looked out. He was +just in time to see Carrington tumble out through the door of the +courthouse and land heavily on the sidewalk in front of the building. +Immediately afterward he saw Taylor follow. + +Norton exclaimed his astonishment, and he saw Taylor turn toward him, a +broad, mirthless grin on his face. + +“Good Heavens!” breathed Norton, “he’s started a ruckus!” + +Taylor had not moved. He was looking at Norton when a man leaped from +the door of the courthouse, straight at him. It was Danforth, his face +hideous with rage. + +Taylor sensed the movement, wheeled, stumbled, and lost his balance just +as Danforth crashed against him. The two men went down in a heap into +the deep dust of the street, rolling over and over. + +Danforth’s impetus had given him the initial advantage, and he was +making the most of it. His fists were working into Taylor’s face as they +rolled in the dust, his arms swinging like flails. Taylor, caught almost +unprepared, could not get into a position to defend himself. He shielded +his face somewhat by holding his chin close to his chest and hunching +his shoulders up; but Danforth landed some blows. + +There came an instant, however, when Taylor’s surprise over the assault +changed to resentment over the punishment he was receiving. He had +struck Carrington in self-defense, and he had not expected the attack by +Danforth. + +Norton, also surprised, saw that his friend was at a disadvantage, and +he was running forward to help him when he saw Taylor roll on top of +Danforth. + +To Norton’s astonishment, Taylor did not seem to be in a vicious humor, +despite the blows Danforth had landed on him. Taylor came out of the +smother with a grin on his face, wide and exultant, and distinctly +visible to Norton in spite of the streaks of dust that covered it. +Taylor shook his head, his hair erupting a heavy cloud. Then he got up, +permitting Danforth to do likewise. + +Regaining his feet, Danforth threw himself headlong toward Taylor, +cursing, his face working with malignant rage. When Taylor hit him the +dust flew from Danforth’s clothes as it rolls from a dirty carpet flayed +with a beater. Danforth halted, his knees sagged, his head wabbled. But +Taylor gave him a slight respite, and he came on again. + +This time Taylor met him with a smother of sharp, deadening uppercuts +that threw the man backward, his mouth open, his eyes closed. He fell, +sagging backward, his knees unjointed, without a sound. + +And now Norton was not the only spectator. Far up the street a man had +emerged from a doorway. He saw the erupting volcanoes of dust in the +street, and he ran back, shouting, “Fight! Fight!” + +Dawes had seen many fights, and had grown accustomed to them. But there +is always novelty in another, and long before Danforth had received the +blows that had rendered him inactive, nearly all the doors of Dawes’s +buildings were vomiting men. They came, seemingly, in endless streams, +in groups, in twos and singly, eager, excited, all the streams +converging at the street in front of the courthouse. + +Mindful of the ethics in an affair of this kind, the crowd kept +considerately at a distance, permitting the fighting men to continue at +their work without interference, with plenty of room for their energetic +movements. + +Word ran from lip to lip that Taylor, stung by the knowledge that he had +been robbed of the office to which he had been elected, had attacked +Carrington and Danforth with the grim purpose of punishing them +personally for their misdeeds. + +Taylor was aware of the gathering crowd. When he had delivered the blows +that had finished his political rival, he saw the dense mass of men in +the street around him; and he felt that all Dawes had assembled. + +There was still no rancor in Taylor’s heart; the same savage humor which +had driven him into the courthouse to acquaint Carrington and the others +with his knowledge of their designs, still gripped him. He had not meant +to force a fight, but neither had he any intention of permitting +Carrington and Danforth to inflict physical punishment upon him. + +But a malicious devil had seized him. He knew that what he had done +would be magnified and distorted by Carrington, Danforth, and the judge; +that they would charge him with the blame for it; that he faced the +probability of a jail sentence for defending himself. And he was +determined to complete the work he had started. + +Therefore, having disposed of Danforth, he grinned at the eager, excited +faces that hemmed him about, and wheeled toward Carrington. + +He was just in time. For Carrington, not badly hurt by Taylor’s blow, +which had catapulted him out of the door of the courthouse, had been +standing back a little, awaiting an opportunity. The swiftness of +Taylor’s movements had prevented interference by Carrington; but now, +with Danforth down, Carrington saw his chance. + +Without a word, Carrington lunged forward. They met with a shock that +caused the dry dust to splay and spume upward and outward in thin, +minute streaks like the leaping, spraying waters of a fountain. They +were lost, momentarily, in a haze, as the dust fell and enveloped them. + +They emerged from the blot presently, Carrington staggering, his chin on +his chest, his eyes glazed—Taylor crowding him closely. For while they +had been lost in the smother of dust, Taylor had landed a deadening +uppercut on the big man’s chin. + +The big man’s brain was befogged; and yet he still retained presence of +mind enough to shield his chin from another of those terrific blows. He +had crossed his arms over the lower part of his face, fending off +Taylor’s fists with his elbows. + +A Danforth man in the crowd called on Carrington to “wallop” Taylor, and +the big man’s answering grin indicated that he was not as badly hurt as +he seemed. + +Almost instantly he demonstrated that, for when Taylor, still following +him, momentarily left an opening, Carrington stepped quickly forward and +struck—his big arm flashing out with amazing rapidity. + +The heavy fist landed high on Taylor’s head above the ear. It was not a +blow that would have finished the fight, even had it landed lower, but +it served to warn Taylor that his antagonist was still strong, and he +went in more warily. + +The advantage of the fight was all with Taylor. For Taylor was cool and +deliberate, while Carrington, raging over the blows he had received, and +in the clutch of a bitter desire to destroy his enemy, wasted much +energy in swinging wildly. + +The inaccuracy of Carrington’s hitting amused Taylor; the men in the +crowd about him could see his lips writhing in a vicious smile at +Carrington’s efforts. + +Carrington landed some blows. But he had lived luxuriously during the +later years of his life; his muscles had deteriorated, and though he was +still strong, his strength was not to be compared with that of the +out-of-door man whose clean and simple habits had toughened his muscles +until they were equal to any emergency. + +And so the battle went slowly but surely against Carrington. Fighting +desperately, and showing by the expression of his face that he knew his +chances were small, he tried to work at close quarters. He kept coming +in stubbornly, blocking some blows, taking others; and finally he +succeeded in getting his arms around Taylor. + +The crowd had by this time become intensely partisan. At first it had +been silent, but now it became clamorous. There were some Danforth men, +and knowing Danforth to be aligned with Carrington—because, it seemed +to them, Carrington was taking Danforth’s end of the fight—they howled +for the big man to “give it to him!” And they grew bitter when they saw +that despite Carrington’s best efforts, and their own verbal support of +him, Carrington was doomed to defeat. + +Taylor’s admirers vastly outnumbered Carrington’s. They did not find it +necessary to shout advice to their champion; but they shouted and roared +with approval as Taylor, driving forward, the grin still on his face, +striking heavily and blocking deftly, kept his enemy retreating before +him. + +Carrington, locking his arms around Taylor, hugged him desperately for +some seconds—until he recovered his breath, and until his head cleared, +and he could fix objects firmly in his vision; and then he heaved +mightily, swung Taylor from his feet and tried to throw him. Taylor’s +feet could get no leverage, but his arms were still free, and with both +of them he hammered the big man’s head until Carrington, in insane rage, +threw Taylor from him. + +Taylor landed a little off balance, and before he could set himself, +Carrington threw himself forward. He swung malignantly, the blow landing +glancingly on Taylor’s head, staggering him. His feet struck an +obstruction and he went to one knee, Carrington striking at him as he +tried to rise. + +The blow missed, Carrington turning clear around from the force of the +blow and tumbling headlong into the dust near Taylor. + +They clambered to their feet at the same instant, and in the next they +came together with a shock that made them both reel backward. And then, +still grinning, Taylor stepped lightly forward. Paying no attention to +Carrington’s blows, he shot in several short, terrific, deadening +uppercuts that landed fairly on the big man’s chin. Carrington’s hands +dropped to his sides, his knees doubled and he fell limply forward into +the dust of the street where he lay, huddled and unconscious, while +turmoil raged over him. + +For the Danforth men in the crowd had yielded to rage over the defeat of +their favorites. They had seen Danforth go down under the terrific +punishment meted out to him by Taylor; they had seen Carrington suffer +the same fate. Several of them drove forward, muttering profane threats. + +Norton, pale and watchful, fearing just such a contingency, shoved +forward to the center, shouting: + +“Hold on, men! None of that! It’s a fair fight! Keep off, there—do you +hear?” + +A score of Taylor men surged forward to Norton’s side; the crowd split, +forming two sections—one group of men massing near Norton, the other +congregating around a tall man who seemed to be the leader of their +faction. A number of other men—the cautious and faint-hearted element +which had no personal animus to spur it to participation in what seemed +to threaten to develop into a riot—retreated a short distance up the +street and stood watching, morbidly curious. + +But though violence, concerted and deadly, was imminent, it was delayed. +For Taylor had not yet finished, and the crowd was curiously following +his movements. + +Taylor was a picturesquely ludicrous figure. He was covered with dust +from head to foot; his face was streaked with it; his hair was full of +it; it had been ground into his cheeks, and where blood from a cut on +his forehead had trickled to his right temple, the dust was matted until +it resembled crimson mud. + +And yet the man was still smiling. It was not a smile at which most men +care to look when its owner’s attention is definitely centered upon +them; it was a smile full of grimly humorous malice and determination; +the smile of the fighting man who cares nothing for consequences. + +The concerted action which had threatened was, by the tacit consent of +the prospective belligerents, postponed for the instant. The gaze of +every partisan—and of all the non-partisans—was directed at Taylor. + +He had not yet finished. For an instant he stood looking down at +Carrington and Danforth—both now beginning to recover from their +chastisement, and sitting up in the dust gazing dizzily about them—then +with a chuckle, grim and malicious, Taylor dove toward the door of the +courthouse, where Littlefield was standing. + +The judge had been stunned by the ferocity of the action he had +witnessed. Whatever judicial dignity had been his had been whelmed by +the paralyzing fear that had gripped him, and he stood, holding to the +door-jambs, nerveless, motionless. + +He saw Taylor start toward him; he saw a certain light leaping in the +man’s eyes, and he cringed and cried out in dread. + +But he had not the power to retreat from the menace that was approaching +him. He threw out his hands impotently as Taylor reached him, as though +to protest physically. But Taylor ignored the movement, reaching upward, +a dusty finger and thumb closing on the judge’s right ear. + +There was a jerk, a shrill cry of pain from the judge, and then he was +led into the street, near where Carrington and Danforth had fallen, and +twisted ungently around until he faced the crowd. + +“Men,” said Taylor, in the silence that greeted him as he stood erect, +his finger and thumb still gripping the judge’s ear, “Judge Littlefield +is going to say a few words to you. He’s going to tell you who started +this ruckus—so there won’t be any nonsense about actions in contempt of +court. Deals like this are pulled off better when the court takes the +public into its confidence. Who started this thing, judge? Did I?” + +“No—o,” was Littlefield’s hesitating reply. + +“Who did start it?” + +“Mr. Carrington.” + +“You saw him?” + +“Yes.” + +“What did he do?” + +“He—er—struck at you.” + +“And Danforth?” + +“He attacked you while you were in the street.” + +“And I’m not to blame?” + +“No.” + +Taylor grinned and released the judge’s ear. “That’s all, gentlemen,” he +said; “court is dismissed!” + +The judge said nothing as he walked toward the door of the courthouse. +Nor did Carrington and Danforth speak as they followed the judge. Both +Carrington and Danforth seemed to have had enough fighting for one day. + +The victor looked around at the faces in the crowd that were turned to +his, and his grin grew eloquent. + +“Looks like we’re going to have a mighty peaceable administration, +boys!” he said. His grin included Norton, at whom he deliberately +winked. Then he turned, mounted his horse—which had stood docilely near +by during the excitement, and which whinnied as he approached it—and +rode down the street to the Dawes bank, before which he dismounted. Then +he went to his rooms on the floor above, washed and changed his clothes, +and attended to the bruises on his face. Later, looking out of the +window, he saw the crowd slowly dispersing; and still later he opened +the door on Neil Norton, who came in, deep concern on his face. + +“You’ve started something, Squint. After you left I went into the +_Eagle_ office. The partition is thin, and I could hear Carrington +raising hell in there. You look out; he’ll try to play some dog’s trick +on you now! There’s going to be the devil to pay in this man’s town!” + +Taylor laughed. “How long does it take for a sprained ankle to mend, +Norton?” + +Norton looked sharply at Taylor’s feet. + +“You sprain one of yours?” he asked. + +“Lord, no!” denied Taylor. “I was just wondering. How long?” he +insisted. + +“About two weeks. Say, Squint, your brain wasn’t injured in that ruckus, +was it?” he asked solicitously. + +“It’s as good as it ever was.” + +“I don’t believe it!” declared Norton. “Here you’ve started something +serious, and you go to rambling about sprained ankles.” + +“Norton,” said Taylor slowly, “a sprained ankle is a mighty serious +thing—when you’ve forgotten which one it was!” + +“What in——” + +“And,” resumed Taylor, “when you don’t know but that she took particular +pains to make a mental note of it. If I’d wrap the left one up, now, and +she knew it was the right one that had been hurt—or if I’d wrap up the +right one, and she knew it was the wrong one, why she’d likely——” + +_“She?”_ groaned Norton, looking at his friend with bulging eyes that +were haunted by a fear that Taylor’s brain _had_ cracked under the +strain of the excitement he had undergone. He remembered now, that +Taylor _had_ acted in a peculiar manner during the fight; that he had +grinned all through it when he should have been in deadly earnest. + +“Plumb loco!” he muttered. + +And then he saw Taylor grinning broadly at him; and he was suddenly +struck with the conviction that Taylor was not insane; that he was in +possession of some secret that he was trying to confide to his friend, +and that he had begun obliquely. Norton drew a deep breath of relief. + +“Lord!” he sighed, “you sure had me going. And you don’t know which +ankle you sprained?” + +“I’ve clean forgot. And now she’ll find out that I’ve lied to her.” + +“_She?_” said Norton significantly. + +“Marion Harlan,” grinned Taylor. + +Norton caught his breath with a gasp. “You mean you’ve fallen in love +with her? And that you’ve made her—Oh, Lord! What a situation! Don’t +you know her uncle and Carrington are in cahoots in this deal?” + +“It’s my recollection that I told you about that the day I got back,” +Taylor reminded him. And then Taylor told him the story of the bandaged +ankle. + +When Taylor concluded, Norton lay back in his chair and regarded his +friend blankly. + +“And you mean to tell me that all the time you were fighting Carrington +and Danforth you were thinking about that ankle?” + +“Mostly all the time,” Taylor admitted. + +Norton made a gesture of impotence. “Well,” he said, “if a man can keep +his mind on a girl while two men are trying to knock hell out of him, +he’s sure got a bad case. And all I’ve got to say is that you’re going +to have a lovely ruckus!” + + + + +CHAPTER XV—GLOOM—AND PLANS + + +Elam Parsons sat all day on the wide porch of the big house nursing his +resentment. He was hunched up in the chair, his shoulders were slouched +forward, his chin resting on the wings of his high, starched collar, his +lips in a pout, his eyes sullen and gleaming with malevolence. + +Parsons was beginning to recover from his astonishment over the attack +Carrington had made on him. He saw now that he should have known +Carrington was the kind of man he had shown himself to be; for now that +Parsons reflected, he remembered little things that Carrington had done +which should have warned him. + +Carrington had never been a real friend. Carrington had used him—that +was it; Carrington had made him think he was an important member of the +partnership, and he had thought so himself. Now he understood +Carrington. Carrington was selfish and cruel—more, Carrington was a +beast and an ingrate. For it had been Parsons who had made it possible +for Carrington to succeed—for he had used Parsons’ money all +along—having had very little himself. + +So Parsons reflected, knowing, however, that he had not the courage to +oppose Carrington. He feared Carrington; he had always feared him, but +now his fear had become terror—and hate. For Parsons could still feel +the man’s fingers at his throat; and as he sat there on the porch his +own fingers stroked the spot, while in his heart flamed a great yearning +for vengeance. + + * * * * * + +Marion Harlan had got up this morning feeling rather more interested in +the big house than she had felt the day before—or upon any day that she +had occupied it. She, like Parsons, had awakened with a presentiment of +impending pleasure. But, unlike Parsons, she found it impossible to +definitely select an outstanding incident or memory upon which to base +her expectations. + +Her anticipations seemed to be broad and inclusive—like a clear, +unobstructed sunset, with an effulgent glow that seemed to embrace the +whole world, warming it, bringing a great peace. + +For upon this morning, suddenly awakening to the pure, white light that +shone into her window, she was conscious of a feeling of satisfaction +with life that was strange and foreign—a thing that she had never +before experienced. Always there had been a shadow of the past to darken +her vision of the future, but this morning that shadow seemed to have +vanished. + +For a long time she could not understand, and she snuggled up in bed, +her brow thoughtfully furrowed, trying to solve the mystery. It was not +until she got up and was looking out of the window at the mighty basin +in which—like a dot of brown in a lake of emerald green—clustered the +buildings of the Arrow ranch, that knowledge in an overwhelming flood +assailed her. Then a crimson flush stained her cheeks, her eyes glowed +with happiness, and she clasped her hands and stood rigid for a long +time. + +She knew now. A name sprang to her lips, and she murmured it aloud, +softly: “Quinton Taylor.” + +Later she appeared to Martha—a vision that made the negro woman gasp +with amazement. + +“What happen to you, honey? You-all git good news? You look light an’ +airy—like you’s goin’ to fly!” + +“I’ve decided to like this place—after all, Martha. I—I thought at +first that I wouldn’t, but I have changed my mind.” + +Martha looked sharply at her, a sidelong glance that had quite a little +subtle knowledge in it. + +“I reckon that ‘Squint’ Taylor make a good many girls change their mind, +honey—he, he, he!” + +“Martha!” + +“Doan you git ’sturbed, now, honey. Martha shuah knows the signs. I done +discover the signs a long while ago—when I fall in love with a worfless +nigger in St. Louis. He shuah did captivate me, honey. I done try to +wiggle out of it—but ’tain’t no use. Face the fac’s, Martha, face the +fac’s, I tell myself—an’ I done it. Ain’t no use for to try an’ fool +the fac’s, honey—not one bit of use! The ol’ fac’ he look at you an’ +say: ‘Doan you try to wiggle ’way from me; I’s heah, an’ heah I’s goin’ +to stay!’ That Squint man ain’t no lady-killer, honey, but he’s shuah a +he-man from the groun’ up!” + +Marion escaped Martha as quickly as she could; and after breakfast began +systematically to rearrange the furniture to suit her artistic ideals. + +Martha helped, but not again did Martha refer to Quinton +Taylor—something in Marion’s manner warned her that she could trespass +too far in that direction. + +Some time during the morning Marion saw Parsons ride up and dismount at +the stable door; and later she heard him cross the porch. She looked out +of one of the front windows and saw him huddled in a big rocking-chair, +and she wondered at the depression that sat so heavily upon him. + +The girl did not pause in her work long enough to partake of the lunch +that Martha set for her—so interested was she; and therefore she did +not know whether or not Parsons came into the house. But along about +four o’clock in the afternoon, wearied of her task, Marion entered the +kitchen. From Martha she learned that Parsons had not stirred from the +chair on the porch during the entire day. + +Concerned, Marion went out to him. + +Parsons did not hear her; he was still moodily and resentfully reviewing +the incident of the morning. + +He started when the girl placed a gentle hand on one of his shoulders, +seeming to cringe from her touch; then he looked up at her suddenly. + +“What do you want?” he demanded. + +“Don’t you feel well, Uncle Elam?” she inquired. Her hand rose from his +shoulder to his head, and her fingers ran through his hair with a light, +gentle touch that made him shiver with repugnance. There were times when +Parsons hated this living image of his brother-in-law with a fervor that +seemed to sear his heart. Now, however, pity for himself had rather +dulled the edge of his hatred. A calamity had befallen him; he was +crushed under it; and the sympathy of one whom he hated was not entirely +undesirable. + +No sense of guilt assailed the man. He had never betrayed his hate to +her, and he would not do so now. That wasn’t his way. He had always +masked it from her, making her think he felt an affection for her which +was rather the equal of that which custom required a man should feel for +a niece. Yet he had always hated her. + +“I’m not exactly well,” he muttered. “It’s the damned atmosphere, I +suppose.” + +“Martha tells me that it _does_ affect some persons,” said the girl. +“And lack of appetite seems to be one of the first symptoms—in your +case. For Martha tells me you have not eaten.” + +The girl’s soft voice irritated Parsons. + +“Go away!” he ordered crossly; “I want to think!” + +It was not the first time the girl had endured his moods. She smiled +tolerantly, and softly withdrew, busying herself inside the house. + +Parsons did not eat supper; he slunk off to bed and lay for hours in his +room brooding over the thing that had happened to him. + +He got up early the next morning, mounted his horse and left the house +before Marion could get a glimpse of him. It was still rather early when +he reached Dawes. There, in a saloon, he overheard the story of the +fight in the street in front of the courthouse, and with tingling +eagerness and venomous satisfaction he listened to a man telling another +of the terrible punishment inflicted upon Carrington by Quinton Taylor. + +Parsons did not go to see Carrington, for he feared a repetition of +Carrington’s savage rage, should he permit the latter to observe his +satisfaction over the incident of yesterday. He knew he could not face +Carrington and conceal the gloating triumph that gripped him. + +So he returned to the big house. And for the greater part of the day he +sat in the rocker on the porch, his soul filled with a vindictive joy. + +He ate heartily, too; and his manner indicated that he had quite +recovered from the indisposition that had affected him the previous day. +He even smiled at Marion when she told him he was “looking better.” + +But his bitter yearning for vengeance had not been satisfied by the +knowledge that Taylor had thrashed Carrington. He knew, now that +Carrington had ruthlessly cast him aside, that he was no longer to +figure importantly in the scheme to loot the town; he knew that it was +Carrington’s intention to rob him of every dollar he had entrusted to +the man. He knew, too, that Carrington would not hesitate to murder him +should he offer the slightest objection, or should he make any visible +resistance to Carrington’s plans. + +But Parsons was determined to be revenged upon Carrington, and he was +convinced that he could secure his revenge without boldly announcing his +plans. + +As for that, he had no plans. But while sitting in the rocker on the +porch during the long afternoon, the vindictive light in his eyes +suddenly deepened, and he grinned evilly. + +That night after supper he exerted himself to be agreeable to Marion. +During the interval between sunset and darkness he walked with the girl +along the edge of the butte above the big valley which held the +irrigation dam. And while standing in a timber grove at the edge of the +butte, he questioned her deftly about the news she had received of her +father, and she told him of her visits to the Arrow. + +He had watched her narrowly, and he saw the flush that came into her +cheeks each time Taylor was mentioned. + +“He is a remarkably forceful man,” he observed once, when he mentioned +Taylor. “And if I am not mistaken, Carrington is going to have his hands +full with him.” + +“What do you mean? Do you mean that Mr. Taylor is not in sympathy with +Carrington’s plans concerning Dawes?” + +“I mean just that. And if you had happened to be in Dawes yesterday you +might have witnessed a demonstration of Taylor’s lack of sympathy with +Carrington’s plans. For”—and now Parsons’ eyes gleamed +maliciously—“after Judge Littlefield, acting under instructions from +the governor, had refused to administer the oath of office to +Taylor—inducting his rival, Danforth, into the position instead——” + +Here the girl interrupted, and Parsons was forced to relate the tale in +its entirety. + +“Uncle Elam,” she said when Parsons paused, “are you certain that +Carrington’s intentions toward Dawes are honorable?” + +Parsons smiled crookedly behind a palm, and then uncertainly at the +girl. + +“I don’t know, Marion. Carrington is a rather hard man to gauge. He has +always been mighty uncommunicative and headstrong. He is getting +ruthless and domineering, too. I am rather afraid—that is, my dear, I +am beginning to believe we made a mistake in Carrington. He doesn’t seem +to be the sort of man we thought him to be. If he were like that man +Taylor, now——” He paused and glanced covertly at the girl, noting the +glow in her eyes. + +“Yes,” he resumed, “Taylor _is_ a man. My dear,” he added +confidentially, “there is going to be trouble in Dawes—I am convinced +of that; trouble between Carrington and Taylor. Taylor thrashed +Carrington yesterday, but Carrington isn’t the kind to give up. I have +withdrawn from active participation in the affairs that brought me here. +I am not going to take sides. I don’t care who wins. That may sound +disloyal to you—but look here!” He showed her several black and blue +marks on his throat. “Carrington did that—the day before yesterday. +Choked me.” His voice quavered with self-pity, whereat the girl caught +her breath in quick sympathy and bent to examine the marks. When she +stood erect again Parsons saw her eyes flashing with indignation, and he +knew that whatever respect the girl had had for Carrington had been +forever destroyed. + +“Oh!” she said, “why did he choke you?” + +“Because I frankly told him I did not approve of his methods,” lied +Parsons, smirking virtuously. “He showed his hand, unmistakably, and his +methods mean evil to Dawes.” + +The girl stiffened. “I shall go directly to Dawes and tell Carrington +what I think of him!” she declared. + +“No—for God’s sake!” protested Parsons. “He would kill me! He would +know, instantly, that I had been talking. My life would not be worth a +snap of your fingers! Don’t let on that I have said _anything_ to you! +Let him come here, and treat him as you have always treated him. But +warn Taylor. Taylor may know something—it is certain he suspects +something—but Taylor will not know everything. Make a friend of Taylor, +my dear. Go to him—visit his ranch—as much as you like. But if +Carrington says anything to you about going there, tell him I opposed +it. That will mislead him.” + +When Parsons and the girl reached the house, Parsons stood near the +kitchen door and watched her enter. He did not go in, himself; he walked +around to the front and sat on the edge of the porch, grinning +maliciously. For he knew something of the tortures of jealousy, and he +was convinced that he had added something to the antagonism that already +had been the cause of one clash between Carrington and Taylor. And +Parsons was convinced that both he and Carrington had made a mistake in +planning to loot Dawes; that despite the connivance of the governor and +Judge Littlefield, Quinton Taylor would defeat them. + +Parsons might lose his money; but the point was that Carrington would +also lose. And if Parsons was wise and cautious—and did not antagonize +Taylor—there was a chance that he might gain more through his +friendship—a professed friendship—for Taylor, than he would have won +had he been loyal to Carrington. At the least, he would have the +satisfaction of working against Carrington in the dark. And to a man of +Parsons’ character that was a satisfaction not to be lightly considered. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI—A MAN BECOMES A BRUTE + + +During the days that Parsons had passed nursing his resentment, +Carrington had been busy. Despite the bruises that marked his face +(which, by the way, a clever barber had disguised until they were hardly +visible) Carrington appeared in public as though nothing had happened. + +The fight at the courthouse had aroused the big man to the point of +volcanic action. The lust for power that had seized him; the implacable +resolution to rule, to win, to have his own way in all things; his +passionate hatred of Taylor; his determination to destroy anyone who got +in his path—these were the forces that drove him. + +Taylor had brought matters to a sudden and unexpected crisis. Carrington +had planned to begin his campaign differently, to insinuate himself into +the political life of Dawes; and he had gone to the courthouse intending +to keep in the background, but Taylor had forced him into the open. + +Therefore, Carrington had no choice, and he instantly accepted Taylor’s +challenge. After reentering the courthouse, following the departure of +Taylor, Carrington had insisted that Judge Littlefield have Taylor taken +into custody on a contempt of court charge. Littlefield had flatly +refused, and the resulting argument had been what Neil Norton had +overheard. But Littlefield had not yielded to Carrington’s insistence. + +“That would be ridiculous, after what has happened,” the judge declared. +“The whole country would be laughing at us. More, you can see that +public sentiment is with Taylor. And he forced me to publicly admit that +you were to blame. I simply won’t do it!” + +“All right,” grinned Carrington, darkly; “I’ll find another way to get +him!” + +And so for the instant Carrington dismissed Taylor from his thoughts, +devoting his attention to the task of organizing his forces for the +campaign he was to make against the town. + +He held many conferences with Danforth and with three of five men who +had been elected to the new city council—that political body having +also been provided under the new charter. Three of the +members—Cartwright, Ellis, and Warden—were Danforth men, cogs of that +secret machine which for more than a year Danforth had been perfecting +at Carrington’s orders. + +Some officials were appointed by Mayor Danforth—at Carrington’s +direction; a chief of police, a municipal judge, a town clerk, a +treasurer—and a host of other office-holders inevitable to a system of +government which permits the practice. + +Carrington dominated every conference; he made it plain that he was to +rule Dawes—that Danforth and all the others were subject to his orders. + +Only one day was required to perfect Carrington’s organization, and on +Thursday evening, with everything running smoothly, Carrington appeared +in the palm-decorated foyer of the Castle, a smugly complacent smile on +his face. For he had won the first battle in the war he was to wage. To +be sure, he had been worsted in a physical encounter with Taylor, as the +bruises still on his face indicated, but he intended to repay Taylor for +that thrashing—and his lips went into an ugly pout when his thoughts +dwelt upon the man. + +He had almost forgotten Parsons; he did not think of the other until +about eight o’clock in the evening, when, with Danforth in the barroom +of the Castle, Danforth mentioned his name. Then Carrington remembered +that he had not seen Parsons since he had throttled the man. He ordered +another drink, not permitting Danforth to see his eyes, which were +glowing with a flame that would have betrayed him. + +“This is good-night,” he said to Danforth as he raised his glass. “I’ve +got to see Parsons tonight.” + +Yet it was not Parsons who was uppermost in his mind when he left the +Castle, mounted on his horse; the face of Marion Harlan was in the +mental picture he drew as he rode toward the Huggins house, and there +ran in his brain a reckless thought—which had been uttered to Parsons +at the instant before his fingers had closed around the latter’s throat +a few days before: + +“I was born a thousand years too late, Parsons! I am a robber baron +brought down to date—modernized. I believe that in me flows the blood +of a pirate, a savage, or an ancient king. I have all the instincts of a +tribal chief whose principles are to rule or ruin! I’ll have no law out +here but my own desires!” + +And tonight Carrington’s desires were for the girl who had accompanied +him to Dawes; the girl who had stirred his passions as no woman had ever +stirred them, and who—now that he had seized the town’s government—was +to be as much his vassal as Parsons, Danforth—or any of them. He +grinned as he rode toward the Huggins house—a grin that grew to a laugh +as he rode up the drive toward the house; low, vibrant, hideous with its +threat of unrestrained passion. + +The night had been too beautiful for Marion Harlan to remain indoors, +and so, after darkness had swathed the big valley back of the house, she +had slipped out, noting that her uncle had gone again to the chair on +the front porch. She had walked with Parsons along the butte above the +valley, but she wanted to be alone now, to view the beauties without +danger of interruption. Above all, she wanted to think. + +For the news that Parsons had communicated to her had affected her +strangely; she felt that her uncle’s revelations of Carrington’s +character amounted to a vindication of her own secret opinion of the +man. + +He had been a volcanic wooer, and she had distrusted him all along. She +had never permitted that distrust to appear on the surface, however, out +of respect for her uncle—for she had always thought he and Carrington +were firm friends. She saw now, though, that she had always suspected +Carrington of being just what her uncle’s revelation had proved him to +be—a ruthless, selfish, domineering brute of a man, who would have no +mercy upon any person who got in his way. + +Reflecting upon his actions during the days she had known him in +Westwood—and upon his glances when sometimes she had caught him looking +at her, and at other times when his gaze—bold, and flaming with naked +passion—had been fixed upon her, she shuddered, comparing him with +Quinton Taylor, quiet, polite, and considerate. + +Loyally, she hated Carrington now for the things he had done to Parsons. +She mentally vowed that the next time she saw Carrington she would tell +him exactly what she thought of him, regardless of the effect her frank +opinion might have on her uncle’s fortunes. + +But still she had not come to the edge of the butte for the purpose of +devoting her entire thoughts to Carrington; there was another face that +obtruded insistently in the mental pictures she drew—Quinton Taylor’s. +And she found a grass knoll at the edge of the butte, twisted around so +that she could look over the edge of the butte and into the big basin +that slumbered somberly in the mysterious darkness, staring intently +until she discovered a pin-point of light gleaming out of it. That +light, she knew, came from one of the windows of the Arrow ranchhouse, +and she watched it long, wondering what Taylor would be doing about now. + +For she was keeping no secrets from herself tonight. She knew that she +liked Taylor better than she had ever liked any man of her acquaintance. + +At first she had told herself that her liking for the man had been +aroused merely because he had been good to her father. But she knew now +that she liked Taylor for himself. There was no mistaking the nameless +longing that had taken possession of her; the insistent and yearning +desire to be near him; the regret that had affected her when she had +left the Arrow at the end of her last visit. Taylor would never know how +near she had come to accepting his invitation to share the Arrow with +him. Had it not been for propriety—the same propriety which had +inseparably linked itself with all her actions—which she must observe +punctiliously despite the fact that girls of her acquaintance had +violated it openly without hurt or damage to their reputations; had it +not been that she must bend to its mandates, because of the shadow that +had always lurked near her, she would have gone to live at the Arrow. + +For she knew that she could have stayed at the Arrow without danger. +Taylor was a gentleman—she knew—and Taylor would never offend her in +the manner the world affected to dread—and suspect. But she could not +do the things other girls could do—that was why she had refused +Taylor’s invitation. + +She had thought she had conquered her aversion for the big house—the +aversion that had been aroused because of the story Martha had told her +regarding its former inhabitants, but that aversion recurred to her with +disquieting insistence as she sat there on the edge of the butte. + +It seemed to her that the serpent of immorality which had dragged its +trail across hers so many times was never to leave her, and she found +herself wondering about the house and about Carrington and her uncle. + +Carrington had bought the horse for her—Billy; and she had accepted it +after some consideration. But what if Carrington had bought the house? +That would mean—why, the people of Dawes, if they discovered it—if +Carrington had bought it—might place their own interpretation upon the +fact that she was living in it. And the interpretation of the people of +Dawes would be no more charitable than that of the people of Westwood! +They would think—— + +She got up quickly, her face pale, and started toward the house, +determined to ask her uncle. + +Walking swiftly toward the front porch, where she had seen Parsons go, +she remembered that Parsons had told her he had arranged for the house, +but that might not mean that he had personally bought it. + +She meant to find out, and if Carrington owned the house, she would not +stay in it another night—not even tonight. + +She was walking fast when she reached the edge of the porch—almost +running; and when she got to the nearest corner, she saw that the porch +was quite vacant; Parsons must have gone in. + +She stood for an instant at the porch-edge, a beam of silvery moonlight +streaming upon her through a break in the trees overhead, convinced that +Parsons had gone to bed; and convinced, likewise, that, were she to +disturb him now to ask the question that was in her mind, he would laugh +at her. + +She decided she would wait until the morning, and she was about to +return to the edge of the butte, when she realized that it had grown +rather late. She had not noticed how quickly the time had fled. + +She turned, intending to enter the house from one of the rear doors +through which she had emerged, when a sound reached her ears—the rapid +drumming of a horse’s hoofs. She wheeled, facing the direction from +which the sound came—and saw Carrington riding toward her, not more +than fifty feet distant. + +He saw her at the instant her gaze rested on him—an instant before, she +surmised, for there was a huge grin on his face as she turned to him. + +He was at her side before she could obey a sudden impulse to run—for +she did not wish to talk to him tonight—and in another instant he had +dismounted and was standing close to her. + +“All alone, eh?” he laughed. “And enjoying the moon? Do you know that +you made a ravishing picture, standing there with the light shining on +you? I saw you as you started to turn, and I shall remember the picture +all my life! You are more beautiful than ever, girl!” + +Carrington was breathing fast. The girl thought he had been riding hard. +But, despite that explanation for the repressed excitement under which +he seemed to be laboring, the girl thought she detected the presence of +restrained passion in his eyes, and she shrank back a little. + +She had often seen passion in his eyes, identical with what glowed in +them now, but she had always felt a certain immunity, a masterfulness +over him that had permitted her to feel that she could repulse him at +will. Now, however, she felt a sudden, cringing dread of him. The dread, +no doubt, was provoked by her uncle’s revelation of the man’s character; +and, for the first time during her acquaintance with Carrington, she +felt a fear of him, and became aware of the overpowering force and +virility of the man. + +Her voice was a little tremulous when she answered: + +“I was looking for Uncle Elam. He must have gone in.” + +His face was not very distinct to her, for he was standing in a shadow +cast by a near-by tree, and she could not see the bruises that marred +the flesh, but it seemed to her that his face had never seemed so +repulsive. And the significance of his grin made her gasp. + +“That’s good. I’m glad he did go in; I did not come to see Parsons.” + +She had meant to take him to task for what he had done to her uncle, but +there was something in his voice that made thoughts of defending Parsons +seem futile—a need gone in the necessity to conserve her voice and +strength for an imminent crisis. + +For Carrington’s voice, thick and vibrant, smote her with a presentiment +of danger to herself. She looked sharply at him, saw that his face was +red and bloated with passion and, taking a backward step, she said +shortly: + +“I must go in. I—I promised Martha——” + +His voice interrupted her; she felt one of his hands on her arm, the +fingers gripping it tightly. + +“No, you don’t,” he said, hoarsely; “I came here to have a talk with +you, and I mean to have it!” + +“What do you mean?” she asked. She was rigid and erect, but she could +not keep the quaver out of her voice. + +“Playing the innocent, eh?” he mocked, his voice dry and light. “You’ve +played innocent ever since I saw you the first time. It doesn’t go +anymore. You’re going to face the music.” He thrust his face close to +hers and the expression of his eyes thrilled her with horror. + +“What do you suppose I brought you here for?” he demanded. “I’ll tell +you. I bought the house for you. Parsons knows why—Dawes knows +why—everybody knows. You ought to know—you shall know.” He laughed, +sneeringly. “Westwood could tell you, or the woman who lived in the +Huggins house before you came. Martha could tell you—she lived +here——” + +He heard her draw her breath sharply and he mocked her, gloating: + +“Ah, Martha has told you! Well, you’ve got to face the music, I tell +you! I’ve got things going my way here—the way I’ve wanted things to go +since I’ve been old enough to realize what life is. I’ve got the +governor, the mayor, the judges—everything—with me, and I’m going to +rule. I’m going to rule, my way! If you are sensible, you’ll have things +pretty easy; but if you’re going to try to balk me you’re going to +pay—plenty!” + +She did not answer, standing rigid in his grasp, her face chalk-white. +He did not notice her pallor, nor how she stood, paralyzed with dread; +and he thought because of her silence that she was going to passively +submit. He thought victory was near, and he was going to be magnanimous +in his moment of triumph. + +His grip on her arm relaxed and he leaned forward to whisper: + +“That’s the girl. No fuss, no heroics. We’ll get along; we’ll——” + +Her right hand struck his face—a full sweep of the arm behind +it—burning, stinging, sending him staggering back a little from its +very unexpectedness. And before he could make a move to recover his +equilibrium she had gone like a flash of light, as elusive as the +moonbeam in which she had stood when he had first come upon her. + +He cursed gutturally and leaped forward, running with great leaps toward +the rear of the house, where he had seen her vanish. He reached the door +through which she had gone, finding it closed and locked against him. +Stepping back a little, he hurled himself against the door, sending it +crashing from its hinges, so that he tumbled headlong into the room and +sprawled upon the floor. He was up in an instant, tossing the wreck of +the door from him, breathing heavily, cursing frightfully; for he had +completely lost his senses and was in the grip of an insane rage over +the knowledge that she had tricked him. + +Parsons heard the crash as the door went from its hinges. He got out of +bed in a tremor of fear and opened the door of his room, peering into +the big room that adjoined the dining-room. From the direction of the +kitchen he caught a thin shaft of light—from the kerosene-lamp that +Martha had placed on a table for Marion’s convenience. A big form +blotted out the light, casting a huge, gigantic shadow; and Parsons saw +the shadow on the ceiling of the room into which he looked. + +Huge as the shadow was, Parsons had no difficulty in recognizing it as +belonging to Carrington; and with chattering teeth Parsons quickly +closed his door, locked it, and stood against it, his knees knocking +together. + +Martha, too, had heard the crash. She bounded out of bed and ran to the +door of her room, swinging it wide, for instinct told her something had +happened to Marion. Her room was closer to the kitchen, and she saw +Carrington plainly, as he was rising from the débris. And she was just +in time to see Marion slipping through the doorway of her own room. And +by the time Carrington got to his feet, Martha had heard Marion’s door +click shut, heard the lock snap home. + +Martha instantly closed the door of her own room, fastened it and ran to +another door that connected her room with Marion’s. She swung that door +open and looked into the girl’s room; heard the girl stifle a +shriek—for the girl thought Carrington was coming upon her from that +direction—and then Martha was at the girl’s side, whispering to +her—excitedly comforting her. + +“The damn trash—houndin’ you this way! He ain’ goin’ to hurt you, +honey—not one bit!” + +Outside the door they could hear Carrington walking about in the room. +There came to the ears of the two women the scratch of a match, and then +a steady glimmer of light streaked into the room from the bottom of the +door, and they knew Carrington had lighted a lamp. A little later, while +Martha stood, her arms around the girl, who leaned against the negro +woman, very white and still, they heard Carrington talking with Parsons. +They heard Parsons protesting, Carrington cursing him. + +“He ain’ goin’ to git you, honey,” whispered Martha. “That man come heah +the firs’ day, an’ I knowed he’s a rapscallion.” She pointed upward, to +where a trap-door, partly open, appeared in the ceiling of the room. + +“There’s the attic, honey. I’ll boost you, an’ you go up there an’ hide +from that wild man. You got to, for that worfless Parsons am tellin’ him +which room you’s in. You hurry—you heah me!” + +She helped the girl upward, and stood listening until the trap-door +grated shut. Then she turned and grinned at the door that led into the +big room adjoining the kitchen. Carrington was at it, his shoulder +against it; Martha could hear him cursing. + +“Open up, here!” came Carrington’s voice through the door, muffled, but +resonant. “Open the door, damn you, or I’ll tear it down!” + +“Tear away, white man!” giggled Martha softly. “They’s a big ’sprise +waitin’ you when you git in heah!” + +For an instant following Carrington’s curses and demands there was a +silence. It was broken by a splintering crash, and the negro woman saw +the door split so that the light from the other room streaked through +it. But the door held, momentarily. Then Carrington again lunged against +it and it burst open, pieces of the lock flying across the room. + +This time Carrington did not fall with the door, but reeled through the +opening, erect, big, a vibrant, mirthless laugh on his lips. + +The light from the other room streamed in past him, shining full upon +Martha, who stood, her hands on her hips, looking at the man. + +Carrington was disconcerted by the presence of Martha when he had +expected to see Marion. He stepped back, cursing. + +Martha giggled softly. + +“What you doin’ in my room, man; just when I’se goin’ to retiah? You git +out o’ heah—quick! Yo’ heah me? Yo’ ain’t got no business bustin’ my +door down!” + +“Bah!” Carrington’s voice was malignant with baffled rage. With one step +he was at Martha’s side, his hands on her throat, his muscles rigid and +straining. + +“Where’s Marion Harlan?” he demanded. “Tell me, you black devil, or I’ll +choke hell out of you!” + +Martha was not frightened; she giggled mockingly. + +“That girl bust in heah a minute ago; then she bust out ag’in, runnin’ +fit to kill herself. I reckon by this time she’s done throw herself off +the butte—rather than have you git her!” + +Carrington shoved Martha from him, so that she staggered and fell; and +with a bound he was through the door that led into Martha’s room. + +The negro woman did not move. She sat on the floor, a malicious grin on +her face, listening to Carrington as he raged through the house. + +Once, about five minutes after he left, Carrington returned and stuck +his head into the room. Martha still sat where Carrington had thrown +her. She did not care what Carrington did to the house, so long as he +was ignorant of the existence of the trap-door. + +And Carrington did not notice the door. For an hour Martha heard him +raging around the house, opening and slamming doors and overturning +furniture. Once when she did not hear him for several minutes, she got +up and went to one of the windows. She saw him, out at the stable, +looking in at the horses. + +Then he returned to the house, and Martha resumed her place on the +floor. Later, she heard Carrington enter the house again, and after that +she heard Parsons’ voice, raised in high-terrored protest. Then there +was another silence. Again Martha looked out of a window. This time she +saw Carrington on his horse, riding away. + +But for half an hour Martha remained at the window. She feared +Carrington’s departure was a subterfuge, and she was not mistaken. For a +little later Carrington returned, riding swiftly. He slid from his horse +at a little distance from the house and ran toward it. Martha was in the +kitchen when he came in. He did not speak to her as he came into the +room, but passed her and again made a search of the house. Passing +Martha again he gave her a malevolent look, then halted at the outside +door. + +The man’s wild rage seemed to have left him; he was calm—polite, even. + +“Tell your mistress I am sorry for what has occurred. I am afraid I was +a bit excited. I shall not harm her; I won’t bother her again.” + +He stepped through the doorway and, going again to a window and drawing +back the curtain slightly, Martha watched him. + +Carrington went to the stable, entered, and emerged again presently, +leading two horses—Parsons’ horse and Billy. He led the animals to +where his own horse stood, climbed into the saddle and rode away, the +two horses following. At the edge of the wood he turned and looked back. +Then the darkness swallowed him. + +For another half-hour Martha watched the Dawes trail from a window. Then +she drew a deep breath and went into Marion’s room, standing under the +trap-door. + +“I reckon you kin come down now, honey—he’s gone.” + +A little later, with Marion standing near her in the room, the light +from the kerosene-lamp streaming upon them through the shattered door, +Martha was speaking rapidly: + +“He acted mighty suspicious, honey; an’ he’s up to some dog’s trick, +shuah as you’m alive. You got to git out of heah, honey—mighty quick! +‘Pears he thinks you is hid somewhares around heah, an’ he’s figgerin’ +on makin’ you stay heah. An’ if you wants to git away, you’s got to +walk, for he’s took the hosses!” She shook her head, her eyes wide with +a reflection of the complete stupefaction that had descended upon her. +“Laws A’mighty, what a ragin’ devil that man is, honey! I’se seen men +_an’_ men—an’ I knowed a nigger once that was——” + +But Martha paused, for Marion was paying no attention to her. The girl +was pulling some articles of wearing apparel from some drawers, packing +them hurriedly into a small handbag, and Martha sprang quickly to help +her, divining what the girl intended to do. + +“That’s right, honey; doan you stay heah in this house another minit! +You git out as quick as you kin. You go right over to that Squint man’s +house an’ tell him to protect you. ’Cause you’s goin’ to need +protection, honey—an’ don’t you forgit it!” + +The girl’s white face was an eloquent sign of her conception of the +danger that confronted her. But she spoke no word while packing her +handbag. When she was ready she turned to the door, to confront Martha, +who also carried a satchel. Together the two went out of the house, +crossed the level surrounding it, and began to descend the long slope +that led down into the mighty basin in which, some hours before, the +girl had seen the pin-point of light glimmering across the sea of +darkness toward her. And toward that light, as toward a beacon that +promised a haven from a storm, she went, Martha following. + +From a window of the house a man watched them—Parsons—in the grip of a +paralyzing terror, his pallid face pressed tightly against the glass of +the window as he watched until he could see them no longer. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII—THE WRONG ANKLE + + +Bud Hemmingway, the tall, red-faced young puncher who had assisted +Quinton Taylor in the sprained-ankle deception, saw the dawn breaking +through one of the windows of the bunkhouse when he suddenly opened his +eyes after dreaming of steaming flapjacks soaked in the sirup he liked +best. He stretched out on his back in the wall-bunk and licked his lips. + +“Lordy, I’m hungry!” + +But he decided to rest for a few minutes while he considered the +cook—away with the outfit to a distant corner of the range. + +He reflected bitterly that the cook was away most of the time, and that +a man fared considerably better with the outfit than he did by staying +at the home ranch. For one thing, when a man was with the outfit he got +“grub,” without having to rustle it himself—that was why it was better +to be with the outfit. + +“A man don’t git nothin’ to eat at all, scarcely—when he’s got to +rustle his own grub,” mourned Bud. “He’s got the appetite, all right, +but he don’t know how to rassle the ingredients which goes into good +grub. Take them flapjacks, now.” (He licked his lips again.) “They’re +scrumptuous. But that damned hyena which slings grub for the outfit +won’t tell a man how he makes ’em, which greediness is goin’ to git him +into a heap of trouble some day—when I git so hungry that I feel a heap +reckless!” + +Bud watched the dawn broaden. He knew he ought to get up, for this was +the day on which Marion Harlan was to visit the Arrow—and Taylor had +warned him to be on hand early to bandage the ankle again—Taylor having +decided that not enough time had elapsed to effect a cure. + +But Bud did not get up until a glowing shaft entering the window warned +him that the sun was soon to appear above the horizon. Then he bounded +out of the bunk and lurched heavily to an east window. + +What he saw when he looked out made him gasp for breath and hang hard to +the window-sill, while his eyes bulged and widened with astonishment. +For upon the porch of the ranchhouse—seated in the identical chairs in +which they had sat during their previous visit, were Marion Harlan and +the negro woman! + +Bud stepped back from the window and rubbed his eyes. Then he went to +the window again and looked with all his vision. And then a grin covered +his face. + +For the two women seemed to be asleep. Bud would have sworn they were +asleep! For the negress was hunched up in her chair—a big, almost +shapeless black mass—with her chin hidden in the swell of her ample +bosom; while the girl was leaning back, her figure slack with the utter +relaxation that accompanies deep sleep, her eyes closed and her hat a +little awry. Bud was certain _she_ was asleep, for no girl in her waking +moments would permit her hat to rest upon her head in that negligent +manner. + +Bad scratched his head many times while hurriedly getting into his +clothing. + +“I’m bettin’ _they_ didn’t wait for flapjacks _this_ morning!” he +confided to himself, mentally. “Must like it here a heap,” he reflected. +“Well, there’s nothin’ like gittin’ an early start when you’re goin’ +anywhere!” he grinned. + +Stealthily he opened the door of the bunkhouse, watching furtively as he +stepped out, lest he be seen; and then when he noted that the women did +not move, he darted across the yard, vaulted the corral fence, ran +around the corner of the ranchhouse, carefully opened a rear door, and +presently stood beside a bed gently shaking its tousled-haired occupant. + +“Git up, you sufferin’ fool!” he whispered hoarsely; “they’re here!” + +Taylor’s eyes snapped open and were fixed on Bud with a resentful glare, +which instantly changed to reserved amusement when he saw Bud’s bulging +eyes and general evidence of suppressed excitement. + +He yawned sleepily, stretching his arms wide. + +“The outfit, eh? Well, tell Bothwell I’ll see him——” + +“Bothwell, hell!” sneered Bud. “It ain’t the outfit! It ain’t no damned +range boss! It’s _her_, I tell you! An’ if you’re figgerin’ on gittin’ +that ankle bandaged before— That starts you to runnin’, eh?” he jeered. + +For Taylor was out of bed with one leap. In another he had Bud by the +shoulders and had crowded him back against the wall. + +“Bud,” he said, “I’ve a notion to manhandle you! Didn’t I tell you to +have me up early?” + +“Git your fingers out of my windpipe,” objected Bud. “Early! Sufferin’ +shorthorns! Did you want me to git you up last night? It’s only four, +now—an’ they’ve been here for hours, I reckon—mebbe all night. How’s a +man to know anything about a woman?” + +Taylor was getting into his clothes. Bud watched him, marveling at his +deft movements. “You’re sure a wolf at hustlin’ when _she’s_ around!” he +offered. + +But he got no reply. Taylor was dressed in a miraculously short time, +and then he sat down on the edge of the bed and stuck a foot out toward +Bud. + +“Shut up, and get the bandage on!” he directed. + +Bud dove for a dresser and pulled out a drawer, returning instantly with +a roll of white cloth, which he unfolded as he knelt beside the bed. For +an instant after kneeling he scratched his head, looking at Taylor’s +feet in perplexity, and then he looked up at Taylor, his face +thoughtfully furrowed. + +“Which ankle was it I bandaged before?” he demanded; “I’ve forgot!” + +Taylor groaned. He, too, had forgotten. Since he had talked with Neil +Norton about the ankle directly after the fight with Carrington in front +of the courthouse he had tried in vain to remember which ankle he had +bandaged for Miss Harlan’s benefit. Driven to the necessity of making a +quick decision, his brain became a mere muddle of desperate conjecture. +Out of the muddle sprang a disgust for Bud for _his_ poor memory. + +“You’ve forgot!” he blurted at Bud. “Why, damn it, you ought to know +which one it was—you bandaged it!” + +“Well,” grinned Bud gleefully, “it was _your_ ankle, wasn’t it? Strikes +me that if I busted one of _my_ ankles I wouldn’t forget which one it +was! Leastways, if I’d busted it just to hang around a girl!” + +Taylor sneered scornfully. “You wouldn’t bust an ankle for a girl—you +ain’t got backbone enough. Hell!” he exploded; “do something! Take a +chance and bandage one of them—I don’t care a damn which one! If she +noticed the other time, I’ll tell her that one was cured and I busted +the other one!” + +“She’d know you was lyin’,” grinned Bud. He stood erect, his eyes alight +with an inspiration. “Wrap up both of ’em!” he suggested. “If she goes +to gittin’ curious—which she will, bein’ a woman—tell her you busted +both of ’em!” + +“It won’t do,” objected Taylor; “I couldn’t lie that heavy an’ keep a +straight face.” + +Bud began to wrap the left ankle. As he worked, the doubt in his eyes +began to fade and was succeeded by conviction. When he finished, he +stood up and grinned at Taylor. + +“That’s the one,” he said; “the left. I mind, now, that we talked about +it. You go right out to her, limpin’, the same as you done before, an’ +she’ll not say a word about it. You’ll see.” + +Taylor grunted disbelievingly, and hobbled to the front door. He looked +back at Bud, who was snickering, made a malicious grimace at him, and +softly opened the door. + +Miss Harlan had been asleep, but she was not asleep when Taylor opened +the door. Indeed, she was never more wide awake in her life. At the +sound of the door opening she turned her head and sat stiffly erect, to +face Taylor. + +Taylor looked apologetically at his ankle, his cheeks tinged with a +flush of embarrassment. + +“This ankle, ma’am—it ain’t quite well yet. You’ll excuse me not being +gone. But Bud—that’s my friend—says it won’t be quite right for a few +days yet. But I won’t be in your way—and I hope you enjoy yourself.” + +Miss Harlan was enjoying herself. She was enjoying herself despite the +shadow of the tragedy that had almost descended upon her. And mirth, +routing the bitter, resentful emotions that had dwelt in her heart +during the night, twitched mightily at her lips and threatened to curve +them into a smile. + +For during her last visit to the Arrow she had noted particularly that +it had been Taylor’s _right_ ankle which had been bandaged, and now he +appeared before her with the _left_ swathed in white cloth! + +But even had she not known, Taylor’s face must have told her of the +deception. For there was guilt in his eyes, and doubt, and a sort of +breathless speculation, and—she was certain—an intense curiosity to +discover whether or not she was aware of the trick. + +But she looked straight at him, betraying nothing of the emotions that +had seized her. + +“Does it pain you _very_ much?” she inquired. + +Had not Taylor been so eager to make his case strong, he might have +noted the exceedingly light sarcasm of her voice. + +“It hurts a heap, ma’am,” he declared. “Why, last night——” + +“I shouldn’t think it would be necessary to lie about an ankle,” she +said, coldly. + +Taylor’s face went crimson, and in his astonishment he stepped heavily +upon the traitor foot and stood, convicted, before her, looking very +much like a reproved schoolboy. + +She rose from her chair, and now she turned from Taylor and stood +looking out over the big level, while behind her Taylor shifted his +feet, scowled and felt decidedly uncomfortable. + +From where Taylor watched her she looked very rigid and indignant—with +her head proudly erect and her shoulders squared; and he could almost +_feel_ that her eyes were flashing with resentment. + +Yet had he been able to see her face, he would have seen her lips +twitching and her eyes dancing with a light that might have puzzled him. +For she had already forgiven him. + +“There’s lies—_and_ lies,” he offered palliatively, breaking a painful +silence. + +There was no answer, and Taylor, desperately in earnest in his desire +for forgiveness, and looking decidedly funny to Bud Hemmingway, who was +watching from the interior of the room beyond the open door, walked +across the porch with no suspicion of a limp, and halted near the girl. + +“Shucks, Miss Harlan,” he said. “I’m sure caught; and I’m admitting it +was a sort of mean trick to pull off on you. But if you wanted to be +near a girl you’d taken a shine to—that you liked a whole lot, I mean, +Miss Harlan—and you couldn’t think of any _good_ excuse to be around +her? You couldn’t blame a man for that—could you? Besides,” he added, +when peering at the side of her face, he saw the twitching lips, ready +to break into a smile, “I’ll make it up to you!” + +“How?” It was a strained voice that answered him. + +“By manhandling Bud Hemmingway for wrapping up the wrong ankle, ma’am!” +he declared. + +Both heard a cackle of mirth from the room behind them. And both turned, +to see Bud Hemmingway retreating through a door into the kitchen. + +It might have been Bud’s action that brought the smile to Miss Harlan’s +face, or it might have been that she had forgiven Taylor. But at any +rate Taylor read the smile correctly, and he succeeded in looking +properly repentant when he felt Miss Harlan’s gaze upon him. + +“I won’t play any more tricks—on you,” he declared. “You ain’t holding +it against me?” + +“If you will promise not to harm Bud,” she said. + +“That goes,” he agreed, and went into the house to get his discarded +boot. + +When he reappeared, Miss Harlan was again seated in the chair. Swiftly +her thoughts had reverted to the incident of the night before, and her +face was wan and pale, and her lips pressed tightly together in a brave +effort to repress the emotions that rioted within her. In spite of her +courage, and of her determination not to let Taylor know of what had +happened to her, her eyes were moist and her lips quivering. + +He stepped close to her and peered sharply at her, standing erect +instantly, his face grave. + +“Shucks!” he said, accusingly; “I wouldn’t be called hospitable—now, +would I? Standing here, talking a lot of nonsense, and you—you must +have started _early_ to get here by this time!” Again he flashed a keen +glance at her, and his voice leaped. + +“Something has happened, Miss Harlan! What is it?” + +She got up again and faced him, smiling, her eyes shining mistily +through the moisture in them. She was almost on the verge of tears, and +her voice was tremulous when she answered: + +“Mr. Taylor, I—I have come to ask if you—still—if your offer about +the Arrow is still open—if—I could stay here—myself and Martha; if I +could accept the offer you made about giving me father’s share of the +Arrow. For—for—I can’t go back East—to Westwood, and I won’t stay in +the Huggins house a minute longer!” + +“Sure!” he said, with a grim smile, aware of her profound emotion; +aware, too, that something had gone terribly wrong with her—to make her +accept what she had once considered charity—an offer made out of his +regard for her father. + +“But, look here,” he added. “What’s wrong? There’s something——” + +“Plenty, Mr. Squint.” + +This was Martha. She had been awake for some little time, sitting back +with her eyes closed, listening. She was now sitting erect, her eyes +shining with eagerness to tell all she knew of the night’s happenings. + +“Plenty, Mr. Squint,” she repeated, paying no attention to Miss Harlan’s +sharp, “Martha!” “That big rapscallion, Carrington, has been makin’ +things mighty mis’able for Missy Harlan. He come to the house las’ night +an’ bust the door down, tryin’ to git at missy, an’ she’s run away from +him like a whitehead. Then, when he finds he can’t diskiver where I hide +missy he run the hosses off an’ we have to walk heah. That’s all, Mr. +Squint, ’ceptin’ that me an’ missy doan stay in that house no more—if +we have to walk East—all the way!” + +Miss Harlan saw a flash light Taylor’s eyes; saw the flash recede, to be +replaced by a chilling glow. And his lips grew straight and stiff—two +hard lines pressed firmly together. She saw his chest swell and noted +the tenseness of his muscles as he stepped closer to her. + +“Was your uncle there with you, Miss Harlan?” + +She nodded, and saw his lips curve with a mirthless smile. + +“What did Carrington do?” The passion in his voice made an icy shiver +run over her—she felt the terrible earnestness that had come over him, +and a pulse of fear gripped her. + +She had never felt more like crying than at this instant, and until this +minute she had not known how deeply she had been affected by +Carrington’s conduct, nor how tired she was, nor how she had yearned for +the sympathy Taylor was giving her. But she felt that something in +Taylor’s manner portended violence, and she did not want him to risk his +life fighting Carrington—for her. + +“You see,” she explained, “Mr. Carrington did not really _do_ anything. +He just came there, and was impertinent, and impudent, and insulting. +And he told me that he had bought the house; that it didn’t belong to +uncle—though I thought it did; and that the people of Dawes—and +everywhere—would think—things—about me—as the people of Westwood +had—thought. And I—I—why, I just couldn’t stay——” + +“That’s enough, Miss Harlan. So Carrington didn’t do anything.” His +voice was vibrant with some sternly repressed passion. + +“So you walked all the way here, and you have had no breakfast,” he +said, shortly. He turned toward the front door, his voice snapping like +the report of a rifle: + +“Bud!” + +And, looking through the doorway, Miss Harlan saw Bud jump as though he +had been shot. He appeared in the doorway, serious-faced and alert. + +“Rustle some breakfast—quick! And hoe out that spare bedroom. Jump!” + +Taylor understood perfectly what had happened, for he remembered what he +had overheard between Carrington and Parsons on the train. To be sure, +Miss Harlan knew nothing about the conversation, and so she mentally +commended Taylor’s quickness of perception, and felt grateful to him +because he had spared her the horror of explaining further. + +She sat down again, aware of the startling unconventionality of this +visit and of the conversation that had resulted from it, but oppressed +with no sense of shame. For it seemed entirely natural that she should +have come to Taylor, though she supposed that was because he had been +her father’s friend, and that she had no other person to go to—not even +if she went East, to Westwood. But she would not have mentioned what had +happened at the big house if Martha had not taken the initiative. + +She was startled over the change that had come in Taylor. Watching him +covertly as he stood near her, and following his movements as he walked +around in the room, helping Bud, generously leaving her to herself and +her thoughts, she looked in vain for that gentleness and subtle +thoughtfulness that hitherto had seemed to distinguish him. She had +admired him for his easy-going manner, the slow deliberateness of his +glances, the quizzical gleam of his eyes. + +But she saw him now as many of the men in this section of the country +had seen him when he faced the necessity for rapid, determined action. +It was the other side of his character; before she had heard his voice, +and before she had seen him smile—the stern, unyielding side of him +which she had discovered always was ready for the blows of adversity and +enmity—his fighting side. + +And when she went into the house to breakfast, feeling the strangeness +of it all—of the odd fate which had led her to the Arrow; the queer +reluctance that affected her over the action in accepting the +hospitality of a man who—except for his association with her +father—was almost a stranger to her—she found that he did not intend +to insinuate his presence upon her. + +He called her, and stood near the table when she and Martha went in. +Then he told her gravely that the house was “hers,” and that he and Bud +would live in the bunkhouse. + +“And when you get settled,” he told her, as he stood in the doorway, +ready to go, “we’ll write those articles of partnership. And,” he added, +“don’t you go to worrying about Carrington. If he comes here, and Bud or +me ain’t here, you’ll find a loaded rifle hanging behind the front door. +Don’t be afraid to use it—there’s no law against killing snakes out +here!” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII—THE BEAST AGAIN + + +Carrington was conscious of the error his unrestrained passion had +driven him to committing. Yet he had not been sincere when he had +declared to Martha that he wouldn’t bother the girl again. For after +leading the two horses to Dawes and arranging for their care, he hunted +up Danforth. It was nearly midnight when Danforth reached Carrington’s +rooms in the Castle, and Carrington was in a sullen mood. + +“I want two or three men who will do what they are told and keep their +mouths shut,” he told Danforth. “Get them—quick—and send them to the +Huggins house—mine, now—and have them stay there. Nobody is to leave +the house—not even to come to town. Understand? Not even Parsons. +Hustle! There is no train out of here tonight? No? Well, that’s all +right. Get going!” + +Danforth had noticed Carrington’s sullenness, and the strained +excitement of his manner, and there was in Danforth’s mind an +inclination to warn Carrington about including the woman in the scheme +to subjugate Dawes—for he knew Carrington of old; but a certain light +in the big man’s eyes warned Danforth and he shut his half-opened lips +and departed on his errand. + +In an hour he returned, telling Carrington that his orders had been +obeyed. + +Danforth seated himself in a chair near one of the front windows and +waited, for he knew Carrington still had something to say to him—the +man’s eyes told him, for they were alight with a cold, speculative gleam +as they rested on Danforth. + +At last, after a silence that lasted long, Carrington said, shortly: + +“What do you know about Taylor?” + +“What I told you before—the first day. And that isn’t much.” + +“I had a talk with Parsons the other day—about Larry Harlan,” said +Carrington. “It seems that Larry Harlan worked for Taylor—for two or +three years. I didn’t question Parsons closely about the connection +between Taylor and Harlan, but it seems to me that Parsons mentioned a +mine. What about it? Do you know anything about it?” + +Danforth related what he knew regarding the incident of the mine—the +story told by Taylor when he returned after Larry Harlan’s death—and +Carrington’s eyes gleamed with interest. + +“Do you think he told a straight story?” he asked. + +He watched Danforth intently. + +“Hell, yes!” declared the other. “He’s too square to lie!” + +Five minutes later Carrington said good-night to Danforth. But +Carrington did not immediately go to bed; he sat for a long time in a +chair near the window looking out at the buildings of Dawes. + +In the courtroom early the next morning he leaned over Judge +Littlefield’s desk, smiling. + +“Did you ever hear of Quinton Taylor being connected with a mining +venture?” + +“Well, rather.” + +“Where?” + +“At Nogel—in the Sangre de Christo Mountains.” + +“How far is that?” + +“About ten miles—due west.” + +“What do you know about the mine?” + +“Very little. Taylor and a man named Lawrence Harlan registered the +claim here. I heard that Harlan died—was killed in an accident. Soon +afterward, Taylor sold the mine—to a man named Thornton—for a +consideration, not mentioned.” The judge looked sharply at Carrington. +“Why this inquiry?” he asked; “do you think there is anything wrong +about the transaction?” + +“There is no determining that until an investigation is made.” +Carrington laughed as he left the judge. + +Later he got on his horse and rode to the big house. On the front porch, +seated in a chair, smoking, he saw one of the men Danforth had sent in +obedience to his order; at the rear of the house was another; and, +lounging carelessly on the grass near the edge of the butte fringing the +big valley, he saw still another—men who seemed to find their work +agreeable, for they grinned at Carrington when he rode up. + +Carrington dismounted and entered the house—by one of the rear +doors—which he had wrecked the night before. He went in boldly, +grinning, for he anticipated that by this time Marion Harlan would have +reached that stage of intimidation where she would no longer resist him. + +At first he was only mildly disturbed at the appearance of the interior; +for nothing had been done to bring order out of the chaos he had created +the night before, and the condition of the furniture, and the atmosphere +of gloomy emptiness that greeted him indicated nothing. The terror under +which the girl had labored during the night might still be gripping her. + +He had no suspicion that the girl had left the house until after he had +looked into all the rooms but the one occupied by Parsons. Then a +conviction that she _had_ fled seized him; he scowled and leaped to the +door of Parsons’ room, pounding heavily upon it. + +Parsons did not answer his knock, and an instant later, when Carrington +forced the door and stepped into the room, he saw Parsons standing near +a window, pallid and shaking. + +With a bound Carrington reached Parsons’ side and gripped the man by the +collar of his coat. + +“Where’s Miss Harlan?” he demanded. He noted that Parsons swayed in his +grasp, and he peered at the other with a malignant joy. He had always +hated Parsons, tolerating him because of Parsons’ money. + +“She’s gone,” whispered Parsons tremulously. “I—I tried to stop her, +knowing you wouldn’t want it, but—she went away—anyway.” + +“Where?” Carrington’s fingers were gripping Parsons’ shoulder near the +throat with a bitter, viselike strength that made the man cringe and +groan from the pain of it. + +“Don’t, Jim; for God’s sake, don’t! You’re hurting me! I—I couldn’t +help it; I couldn’t stop her!” + +The abject, terrified appeal in his eyes; the fawning, doglike +subjection of his manner, enraged Carrington. He shook the little man +with a force that racked the other from head to heel. + +“Where did she go—damn you!” + +“To the Arrow.” + +Aroused to desperation by the flaming fury that blazed in Carrington’s +eyes, Parsons tried to wrench himself free, tugging desperately, and +whining: “Don’t, Jim!” For he knew that he was to be punished for his +dereliction. + +He shrieked when Carrington struck him; a sound which died in his throat +as the blow landed. Carrington left him lie where he fell, and went out +to the men, interrogating the one he had seen on the front porch. + +From that person he learned that no one had left the house since the men +had come; so that Carrington knew Marion must have departed soon after +he had left the night before—or some time during the time of his +departure and the arrival of the men. + +Ten minutes after emerging from the house he went in again. Parsons was +sitting on the floor of his room, swaying weakly back and forth, whining +tonelessly, his lips loose and drooling blood. + +For an instant Carrington stood over him, looking down at him with a +merciless, tigerlike grin. Then he stooped, gripped Parsons by the +shoulders, and, lifting him bodily, threw him across the bed. Parsons +did not resist, but lay, his arms flung wide, watching the big man +fearfully. + +“Don’t hit me again, Jim!” he pleaded. “Jim, I’ve never done anything to +you!” + +“Bah!” Carrington leaned over the other, grinning malevolently. + +“You’ve double-crossed me, Elam,” he said silkily. “You’re through. Get +out of here before I kill you! I want to; and if you are here in five +minutes, I shall kill you! Go to the Arrow—with your niece. Tell her +what you know about me—if you haven’t done so already. And tell her +that I am coming for her—and for Taylor, too! Now, get out!” + +In less than five minutes, while Carrington was at the front of the +house talking with the three men, Parsons tottered from a rear door, +staggered weakly into some dense shrubbery that skirted the far side of +the house, and made his slow way toward the big slope down which Marion +and Martha had gone some hours before. + +Retribution had descended swiftly upon Parsons; it seemed to him he was +out of it, crushed and beaten. But no thread of philosophy weaved its +way through the fabric of the man’s complete misery and humiliation, and +no reflection that he had merely reaped what he had sown glimmered in +his consciousness. He was merely conscious that he had been beaten and +robbed by the man who had always been his confederate, and as he reeled +down the big slope on his way to the Arrow he whined and moaned in a +toneless voice of vengeance—and more vengeance. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX—THE AMBUSH + + +The incident of the fight between Carrington, Danforth, Judge +Littlefield, and Taylor in front of the courthouse had eloquently +revealed a trait of Taylor’s character which was quite generally known +to the people of Dawes, and which, in a great measure, accounted for +Taylor’s popularity. + +Few of Dawes’s citizens had ever seen Taylor angry. Neil Norton had seen +him in a rage once, and the memory of the man’s face was still vivid. A +few of the town’s citizens had watched him once—when he had thrashed a +gunman who had insulted him—and the story of that fight still taxed the +vocabularies of those who had witnessed it. One enthusiastic watcher, at +the conclusion of the fight, had picturesquely termed Taylor a “regular +he-wolf in a scrap;” and thus there was written into the traditions of +the town a page of his history which carried the lesson, repeated by +many tongues: + +“Don’t rile Taylor!” + +Riding into Dawes about two hours after he had heard from Marion Harlan +the story of the attack on her by Carrington, Taylor’s face was set and +grim. His ancient hatred of Carrington was intensified by another +passion that had burned its way into his heart, filling it with a +primitive lust to destroy—jealousy. + +He dismounted in front of the Castle Hotel, and, entering, he asked the +clerk where he could find Carrington. The clerk could give him no +information, and Taylor went out, the clerk’s puzzled gaze following +him. + +“Evidently he doesn’t want to congratulate Carrington about anything,” +the clerk confided to a bystander. + +Mounting his horse, Taylor rode down the street to the building which +Danforth had selected as a place from which to administer the government +of Dawes. A gilt sign over the front bore upon it the words: + + CITY HALL. + +Taylor went inside, and found Danforth seated at a desk. The latter +looked sourly at his visitor until he caught a glimpse of his eyes, then +his face paled, and he sat silent until Taylor spoke: + +“Where’s Carrington?” + +“I haven’t seen Carrington this morning,” lied Danforth, for he _had_ +seen Carrington some time before, riding out of town toward the Huggins +house. He suspected Carrington’s errand was in some way concerned with +the three men who had been sent there. But he divined from the +expression in Taylor’s eyes that trouble between Taylor and Carrington +was imminent, and he would not set Taylor on the other’s trail without +first warning Carrington. + +He met Taylor’s straight, cold look of disbelief with a vindictive +smirk, which grew venomous as Taylor wheeled and walked out. Taylor had +not gone far when Danforth called a man to his side, whispered rapidly +to him, telling him to hurry. Later the man slipped out of the rear door +of the building, mounted a horse, and rode hurriedly down the river +trail toward the Huggins house. + +Taylor rode to the _Eagle_ office, but Norton was not there, and so, +pursuing his quest, Taylor looked into saloons and stores, and various +other places. Men who knew him noted his taciturnity—for he spoke +little except to greet a friend here and there shortly—and commented +upon his abrupt manner. + +“What’s up with Taylor?” asked a man who knew him. “Looks sort of +riled.” + +Taylor found Carrington in none of the places in which he looked. He +returned to the _Eagle_ office, and found Norton there. He greeted +Norton with a short: + +“Seen Carrington?” + +“Why, yes.” Norton peered closely at his friend. “What in blazes is +wrong?” His thoughts went to another time, when he had seen Taylor as he +appeared now, and he drew a deep breath. + +Briefly Taylor told him, and when the tale was ended, Norton’s eyes were +blazing with indignation. + +“So, that’s the kind of a whelp he is!” he said. “Well,” he added, “I +saw him go out on the river trail a while ago; it’s likely he’s gone to +the Huggins house.” + +“His—now,” said Taylor; “that’s what makes it worse. Well,” he added as +he stepped toward the door, “I’ll be going.” + +“Be careful, Squint,” warned Norton, placing a hand on his friend’s +shoulder. “I know you can lick him—and I hope you give him all that’s +coming to him. But watch him—he’s tricky!” He paused. “If you need any +help—someone to go with you, to keep an eye——” + +“It’s a one-man job,” grinned Taylor mirthlessly. + +“You’ll promise you won’t be thinking of that ankle—this time?” said +Norton seriously. + +Taylor permitted himself a faint smile. “That’s all explained now,” he +said. “She’s been a lot generous—and forgiving. No,” he added, “I won’t +be thinking of that ankle—now!” + +And then, his lips setting again, he crossed the sidewalk, mounted +Spotted Tail, and rode through town to the river trail. Watching him, +Norton saw him disappear in some timber that fringed the river. + + * * * * * + +Carrington had finished his talk with the three men he had set to guard +the Huggins house. The men were told to stay until they received orders +from Carrington to leave. And they were to report to him immediately if +anyone came. + +Carrington had watched Parsons go down the big slope; and for a long +time after he had finished his talk with the three men he stood on the +front porch of the house watching the progress made by Parsons through +the basin. + +“Following Marion,” Carrington assured himself, with a crooked smile. +“Well, I’ll know where to get both of them when I want them.” + +Carrington felt not the slightest tremor of pity for Parsons. He laughed +deep in his throat with a venomous joy as he saw Parsons slowly making +his way through the big basin; for he knew Parsons—he knew that the +craven nature of the man would prevent him from attempting any reprisal +of a vigorous character. + +Yet the exultation in the big man’s heart was dulled with a slight +regret for his ruthless attack on Marion Harlan. He should not have been +so eager, he told himself; he should have waited; he should have +insinuated himself into her good graces, and then—— + +Scowling, he got on his horse and rode up the Dawes trail, shouting a +last word of caution to the three men—one seated on the front porch, +the other two lounging in the shade of a tree near by. + +Half a mile from the house, riding through a timber grove, he met the +man Danforth had sent to him. The latter gave Carrington the message he +carried, which was merely: “Taylor is looking for you.” + +“Coming here?” he asked the man sharply. + +“I reckon he will be—if he can’t find you in town,” said the man. +“Danforth said Taylor was a heap fussed up, an’ killin’ mad!” + +A grayish pallor stole over Carrington’s face, and he drew a quick +breath, sending a rapid, dreading glance up the Dawes trail. Then, +coincident with a crafty backward look—toward the Huggins house—the +grayish pallor receded and a rush of color suffused his face. He spoke +shortly to the man: + +“Sneak back—by a roundabout trail. Don’t let Taylor see you!” + +He watched while the man urged his horse deep into the fringing timber. +Carrington could see him for a time as he rode, and then, when horse and +rider had vanished, Carrington wheeled his horse and sent it clattering +back along the trail to the big house. + +Arriving there, he called the three men to him and talked fast to them. +The talk ended, the men ran for their horses, and a few minutes later +they raced up the river trail toward Dawes, their faces grim, their eyes +alert. + +About a mile up the trail, where a wood of spruce and fir-balsam spread +dark shadows over the ground, and an almost impenetrable growth of brush +fringed the narrow, winding path over which any rider going to the big +house must pass, they separated, two plunging deep into the brush on one +side, and one man secreting himself on the other side. + +They urged their horses far back, where they could not be seen. And +then, concealing themselves behind convenient bushes, they waited, their +eyes trained on the Dawes trail, their ears attuned to catch the +slightest sound that might come from that direction. + +Back at the big house—having arranged the ambuscade—Carrington drew a +deep breath of relief and smiled evilly. He thought he knew why Taylor +was looking for him. Marion had gone to the Arrow, to tell Taylor what +had happened at the big house, and Taylor, in a jealous rage, intended +to punish him. Well, Taylor could come now. + + + + +CHAPTER XX—A FIGHT TO A FINISH + + +And Taylor was “coming.” The big black horse he was riding—which he had +named “Spotted Tail” because of the white blotches that startlingly +relieved his somber sable coat—was never in better condition. He +stepped lightly, running in long, smooth leaps down the narrow trail, +champing at the bit, keen of eye, alert, eager, snorting his impatience +over the tight rein his rider kept on him. + +But Spotted Tail was not more eager than his rider. Taylor, however, +knowing that at any instant he might run plump into Carrington, +returning from the big house, was forced to restrain his impatience. +Therefore, except on the straight reaches of the trail, he was forced to +pull the black down. + +But they were traveling fast when they reached the timber grove in which +Carrington’s men were concealed; and yet on the damp earth of the trail, +where the sunlight could not penetrate, and where the leaves of past +summers had fallen, to rot and weave a pulpy carpet, the rush of Spotted +Tail’s passing created little sound. + +Within a hundred feet of the spot where Carrington’s men were concealed, +Spotted Tail shot his ears forward stiffly and raised his muzzle +inquiringly. Taylor, noting the action, and suspecting that instinct had +warned Spotted Tail of the approach of another horse, drew the animal +down and rode forward at a walk, for he felt that it must be +Carrington’s horse which was approaching. + +Rounding a sharp turn in the trail, Taylor could look ahead for perhaps +a hundred feet. He saw no rider advancing toward him, and he leaned +forward, slapping the black’s neck in playful reproach. + +As he moved he heard the heavy crash of a pistol shot and felt the +bullet sing past his head. Another pistol barked venomously from some +brush on his right, and still another from his left. + +But none of the bullets struck Taylor. For the black horse, startled by +Taylor’s playful movement when all his senses were strained to detect +the location of his kind on the trail, had made an involuntary forward +leap, thus whisking his rider out of the line of fire. And before either +of the three men could shoot again, Spotted Tail had flashed down the +trail—a streak of somber black against the green background of the +trees. + +He fled over the hundred feet of straight trail and had vanished around +a bend before the Carrington men could move their weapons around +impeding branches of the brush that covered them. There was no stopping +Spotted Tail now, for he was in a frenzy of terror—and he made a mere +rushing black blot as he emerged from the timber and fled across an open +space toward another wood—the wood that surrounded the big house. + +Standing on the front porch of the big house, nervously smoking a cigar, +his face set in sullen lines, his eyes fixed on the Dawes trail, +Carrington heard the shots. He sighed, grinned maliciously, and relaxed +his vigilance. + +“He’s settled by now,” he said. + +He looked at one of the chairs standing on the porch, thought of sitting +in one of them to await the coming of the three men, decided he was too +impatient to sit, and began walking back and forth on the porch. + +He had thrown a half-smoked cigar away and was lighting another when he +saw a black blot burst from the edge of a timber-clump beyond an open +space. The match flared and went out as Carrington held it to the end of +the cigar, for there was something strangely familiar in the shape of +the black blot—even with it heading directly toward him. An instant +later, the blot looming larger in his vision, Carrington dropped cigar +and match and stood staring with wild, fear-haunted eyes at the rushing +black horse. + +Carrington stood motionless a little longer—until the black horse, its +rider sitting straight in the saddle, in cowboy fashion, reached the +edge of the wood surrounding the house. Then Carrington, cursing, his +lips in a hideous pout, drew a pistol from a hip-pocket. And when the +black horse was within fifty feet of him, and still coming at a speed +which there was no gauging, Carrington leveled the pistol. + +Once—twice—three, four, five, six times he pulled the trigger of the +weapon. Carrington saw a grim, mocking smile on the rider’s face, and +knew none of his bullets had taken effect. + +Unarmed now, he was suddenly stricken with a panic of fear; and while +the rider of the black horse was dismounting at the edge of the porch, +Carrington dove for the front door of the house and vanished inside, +slamming the door behind him, directly in the rider’s face. + +When Taylor threw the door open he saw Carrington, far back in the room, +swinging a chair over his head. At Taylor’s appearance he threw the +chair with all the force his frenzy of fear could put into the effort. +Taylor ducked, and the chair flew past him, sailing uninterruptedly +outside and over the porch railing. + +Carrington ran through the big front room, through the next room—the +sitting-room—knocking chairs over in his flight, throwing a big center +table at his silent, implacable pursuer. He slammed the sitting-room +door and tried to lock it, but he could not turn the key quickly enough, +and Taylor burst the door open, almost plunging against Carrington as he +came through it. + +Carrington ran into the dining-room, shoved the dining-room table in +Taylor’s way as Taylor tried to reach him; but Taylor leaped over the +obstruction, and when Carrington dodged into Marion Harlan’s room, +Taylor was so close that he might have grasped the big man. + +Taylor had said no word. The big man saw two guns swinging at Taylor’s +hips, and he wondered vaguely why the man did not use them. It occurred +to Carrington as he plunged through Marion Harlan’s room into Martha’s, +and from there to the kitchen, and back again to the dining-room, that +Taylor was not going to shoot him, and his panic partially left him. + +And yet there was a gleam in Taylor’s eyes that made his soul cringe in +terror—the cold, bitter fury of a peaceloving man thoroughly aroused. + +Twice, as Taylor pursued Carrington through the sitting-room again and +into another big room that adjoined it, Carrington’s courage revived +long enough to permit him to consider making a stand against Taylor, but +each time as he stiffened with the determination, the terrible rage in +Taylor’s eyes dissuaded him, and he continued to evade the clash. + +But he knew that the clash must come, and when, in their rapid, headlong +movements, Carrington came close to the front door and tried to slip out +of it, Taylor lunged against him and struck at him, the fist just +grazing Carrington’s jaw, the big man understood that Taylor was intent +on beating him with his fists. + +Had it not been for his previous encounter with Taylor, Carrington would +not have hesitated, for he knew how to protect himself in a fight; but +there was something in Taylor’s eyes now to add to the memory of that +other fight, and Carrington wanted no more of it. + +But at last he was forced to stand. Ducking to evade the blow aimed at +his jaw when he tried to dart out of the front door, he slipped. +Reeling, in an effort to regain his equilibrium, he plunged into another +big room. It was a room that was little used—an old-fashioned parlor, +kept trim and neat against the coming of visitors, but a room whose +gloominess the occupants of the house usually avoided. + +The shades were down, partly concealing heavy wooden blinds—which were +closed. And the only light in the room was that which came from a little +square window high up in the side wall. + +Before Carrington could regain his balance Taylor had entered the room. +He closed the door behind him, placed his back against it, locked it, +and grinned felinely at the big man. + +“Your men are coming, Carrington,” he said—“hear them?” In the silence +that followed his words both stood, listening to the beat of hoofs near +the house. “They’ll be trying to get in here in a minute,” went on +Taylor. “But before they get in I’m going to knock your head off!” And +without further warning he was upon Carrington, striking bitterly. + +It seemed to Carrington that the man was endowed with a savage strength +entirely out of proportion to his stature, and that he was able to start +terrific, deadening blows from any angle. For though Carrington was a +strong man and had had some fighting experience, he could neither evade +Taylor’s blows nor stand against the impact of them. + +He went reeling around the room under the impetus of Taylor’s terrible +rushes, struggling to defend himself, to dodge, to clinch, to evade +somehow the fists that were flying at him from all directions. He could +not get an instant’s respite in which to set himself. Three times in +succession he was knocked down so heavily that the house shook with the +crash of his body striking the floor, and each time when he got to his +feet he tried to fight Taylor off in an endeavor to set himself for a +blow. But he could not. He was knocked against the walls of the room, +and hammered away from them with stiff, jolty, venomous blows that +jarred him from head to heels. He tried vainly to cover up—with his +arms locked about his head he crouched and tried to rush Taylor off his +feet, knowing he was stronger than the other, and that his only hope was +in clinching. But Taylor held him off with savage uppercuts and terrific +short-arm swings that smashed his lips. + +He began to mutter in a whining, vicious monotone; twice he kicked at +Taylor, and twice he was knocked down as a punishment for his foul +methods. Finding his methods ineffectual, and discovering that covering +his face with his arms did not materially lessen the punishment he was +receiving, he began to stand up straight, taking blows in an effort to +land one. + +But Taylor eluded him; Carrington’s blows did not land. Raging and +muttering, roaring with impotent passion, he whipped the air with his +arms, almost jerking them out of their sockets. + +Stiff and taut, his muscles accommodating themselves to every demand he +made on them, and in perfect coordination with his brain—and the +purpose of his brain to inflict upon Carrington the maximum of +punishment for his dastardly attack on Marion Harlan—Taylor worked fast +and furiously. For he heard Carrington’s three men in the next room; he +heard them try the door; heard them call to Carrington. + +And then, convinced that the fight must be ended quickly, before the men +should break down the door and have him at a disadvantage, Taylor +finished it. He smothered Carrington with a succession of stiff-arm, +straight punches that glazed the other’s eyes and sent him reeling +around the room. And, at last, over in a corner near the little window, +Carrington went down flat on his back, his eyes closed, his arms flung +wide. + +Panting from his exertions, Taylor drew his guns and ran to one of the +front windows. They opened upon the porch, and, peering through the +blinds, Taylor saw one of the men standing at one of the windows, trying +to peer into the room. The other two, Taylor knew, were at the door—he +could hear them talking in the silence that had followed the final +falling of Carrington. + +With a gun in each hand, Taylor approached the door. He was compelled to +sheath one of the guns, finding that it interfered with the turning of +the key in the lock; and he had sheathed it and was slowly turning the +key, intending to throw the door open suddenly and take his chance with +the two men on the other side of it, when he saw a shadow darken the +little window above where Carrington lay. + +He wheeled quickly, saw a man’s face at the window, caught the glint of +a pistol. He snapped a shot at the man, swinging his gun over his head +to keep it from striking the door as he turned. But at the movement the +man’s pistol roared, glass tinkling on the floor with the report. The +air in the room rocked with the explosion of Taylor’s pistol, but a +heavy blow on Taylor’s left shoulder, accompanied by a twinge of pain, +as though a white-hot iron had suddenly been plunged through it, spoiled +Taylor’s aim, and his bullet went into the ceiling. As he staggered back +from the door he saw the man’s face at the window, set in a triumphant +grin. Then, as Taylor flattened against the wall to steady himself for +another shot, the face disappeared. + +For an instant Taylor rested against the wall, his arms outstretched +along it to keep himself from falling, for the bullet which had struck +him had hurt him badly. The wound was in the left shoulder, though, and +high, and therefore not dangerous, yet he knew it had robbed his left +arm of most of its strength—there was no feeling in the fingers that +groped along the wall. + +He stepped again to the door and softly turned the key in the lock. He +heard no sound in the room beyond the door, and, thinking that the men, +curious over the shooting, had gone outside, he jerked the door open. + +The movement was greeted with deafening report and a smoke-streak that +blinded Taylor momentarily. In just the instant before the smoke-streak +Taylor had caught a glimpse of a man standing near the center of the +room beyond the door, and though he was rather disconcerted by the +powder-flash and the searing of his left cheek by a bullet, he let his +own gun off twice in as many seconds, and had the grim satisfaction of +seeing the man stagger and tumble headlong to the floor. + +Taylor peered once at the man, to see if he needed further attention, +decided he did not, and ran toward the front door, which opened upon the +porch. + +He was just in time to see one of Carrington’s men sticking his head +around a corner of the house. It was the man who had shot him from the +little window. Taylor’s gun and the man’s roared simultaneously. Taylor +had missed, for the man dodged back, and Taylor staggered, for the man’s +bullet had struck him in the left thigh. He leaped, though limping, +toward the corner, and when almost there a pistol crashed behind him, +the bullet hitting his left shoulder, near where the other had gone in, +the force of it spinning him clear around, so that he reeled and brought +up against a porch column where it joined the rail. + +Grimly setting himself, grinning bitterly with the realization that the +men had him between them, Taylor stood momentarily, fighting to overcome +the terrible weakness that had stolen over him. His knees were +trembling, the house, trees, and sky were agitated in sickening +convolutions, and yet when he saw the head of a man appear from around a +corner of the house at his right, he snapped a shot at it, and instantly +as it was withdrawn he staggered to the corner, lurching heavily as he +went, and turning just as he reached it to reply to a shot sent at him +from the other corner of the house. + +A smoke-spurt met him as he reeled around the corner nearest him, and +his knees sagged as he aimed his gun at a blurring figure in front of +him. He saw the man go down, but his own strength was spent, and he knew +the last bullet had struck him in a vital spot. + +Staggering drunkenly, he started for the side of the house and brought +up against it with a crash. Again, as he had done inside the house, he +stretched his arms out, flattening himself against the wall, but this +time the arms were hanging more limply. + +He was seeing things through a crimson haze, and raising a hand, he +wiped his eyes—and could see better, though there was a queer dimness +in his vision and the world was still traveling in eccentric circles. + +He saw a blur in front of him—two men, he thought, though he knew he +had accounted for two of the three gunmen who had followed him to the +house. Then he heard a laugh—coarse and brutal—in a voice that he +knew—Carrington’s. + +With heartbreaking effort he brought up his right hand, bearing the +pistol. He was trying to swing it around to bring it to bear upon one of +the two dancing figures in front of him, when a crushing blow landed on +his head, and he knew one of the men had struck him with a fist. He felt +his own weapon go off at last—it seemed he had been an age pressing on +the trigger—and he heard a voice again—Carrington’s—saying: “Damn +him; he’s shot me!” He laughed aloud as a gun roared close to him; he +felt another twinge of pain somewhere around where the other twinges had +come—or on the other side—he did not know; and he sank slowly, still +pressing the trigger of his pistol, though not knowing whether or not he +was doing any damage. And then the eccentrically whirling world became a +black blur, soundless and void. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI—A MAN FACES DEATH + + +Taylor’s last shot, when he had been automatically pressing the trigger +after Carrington had struck him viciously with his fist, had brought +down the last of the three men who had ambushed him. And one of his last +bullets had struck Carrington, who had recovered consciousness and +staggered out of the house in time to see the end of the fight. And the +big man, in a black, malignant fury of hatred, was staggering toward +Taylor, lifting a foot to kick him, when from the direction of the +clearing in front of the house came a voice, hoarse and vibrant with a +cold, deadly rage: + +“One kick an’ I blow the top of your head off!” Carrington stopped short +and wheeled, to face Ben Mullarky. + +The Irishman’s eyes were blazing with wrath, and as he came forward, +peering at the figures lying on the ground near the house, Carrington +retreated, holding up his hands. + +“Three of ye pilin’ on one, eh?” said Mullarky as he looked down at +Taylor, huddled against the side of the house. “An’ ye got him, too, +didn’t ye? I’ve a domn big notion to blow the top of your head off, anny +way. Ye slope, ye big limb of the divvle, or I’ll do it!” + +Mullarky watched while Carrington mounted his horse and rode up the +river trail toward Dawes, and the instant Carrington was out of sight, +Mullarky was down on his knees beside Taylor, taking a lightning +inventory of his wounds. + +“Four of them, looks like!” he muttered thickly, his voice shaking with +pity for the slack, limp, smoke-blackened figure that lay silent, the +trace of a smile on its face. “An’ two of them through the shoulder!” He +paused, awed. “Lord, what a shindy!” + +Then, swiftly gulping down his sympathy and his rage, Mullarky ran to +his horse, which he had left at the edge of the wood when he had heard +the shooting. He led the animal back to where Taylor lay, tenderly +lifted Taylor in his arms, walked to the horse, and after much labor got +Taylor up in front of him on the horse, Taylor’s weight resting on his +legs, the man’s head and shoulders resting against him, to ease the jars +of the journey. + +Then he started, traveling as swiftly as possible down the big slope +toward his own house, not so very far away. + +Spotted Tail, jealously watching his master, saw him lifted to the back +of the other horse. Shrewdly suspecting that all was not going well, and +that his master would need him presently, Spotted Tail trotted after +Mullarky. + +In this manner, with Spotted Tail a few paces in his rear, Mullarky, +still tenderly carrying his burden, reached his cabin. + +He stilled Mrs. Mullarky’s hysterical questions with a short command: + +“Hitch up the buckboard while I’m gettin’ him in shape!” + +And then, while Mrs. Mullarky did as she was bidden, Mullarky carried +Taylor inside the cabin, bathed his wounds, stanching the flow of blood +as best he could—and came out again, carrying Taylor, and placed him in +the bed of the light spring-wagon, upon some quilts—and upon a pillow +that Mrs. Mullarky ran into the house to get, emerging with the +reproach: + +“You’d be lettin’ him ride on them hard boards!” + +Following Mullarky’s instructions, Mrs. Mullarky climbed to the driver’s +seat and sent the buckboard toward the Arrow, driving as fast as she +thought she dared. And Ben Mullarky, on Spotted Tail, turned his face +toward Dawes, riding as he had never ridden before. + + * * * * * + +Parsons had reached the Arrow shortly after Taylor had departed for +Dawes. The man had stopped at the Mullarky cabin to inquire the way from +the lady, and she had frankly commented upon Parsons’ battered +appearance. + +“So it was Carrington that mauled you, eh?” she said. “Well, he’s a +mighty evil man—the divvle take his sowl!” + +Parsons concurred in this view of Carrington, though he did not tell +Mrs. Mullarky so. He went on his way, refusing the good woman’s proffer +of a horse, for he wanted to go afoot to the Arrow. He felt sure of +Marion’s sympathy, but he wanted to make himself as pitiable an object +as possible. And as he walked toward the Arrow he mentally dramatized +the moment of his appearance at the ranchhouse—a bruised and battered +figure dragging itself wearily forward, dusty, thirst-tortured, and +despairing. He knew that spectacle would win the girl’s swift sympathy. +The fact that the girl herself had been through almost the same +experience did not affect him at all—he did not even think of it. + +And when Parsons reached the Arrow the scene was even as he had dreamed +it—Marion Harlan had seen him from afar, and came running to him, +placing an arm about him, helping him forward, whispering words of +sympathy in his ears, so that Parsons really began to look upon himself +as a badly abused martyr. + +Marion cared for him tenderly, once she got him into the ranchhouse. She +bathed his bruised face, prepared breakfast for him, and later, learning +from him that he had not slept during the night, she sent him off to +bed, asking him as he went into the room if he had seen Ben Mullarky. + +“For,” she added, “he came here early this morning, after Mr. Taylor +left, and I sent him to the big house to get some things for me.” + +But Parsons had not seen Mullarky. + +And at last, when the morning was nearly gone, and Marion saw a +horse-drawn vehicle approaching the Arrow from the direction of Dawes, +she ran out, thinking Ben Mullarky had brought her “things” in his +buckboard. But it was not Ben who was coming, but Mrs. Mullarky. The +lady’s face was very white and serious, and when the girl came close and +she saw the look on the good woman’s face, she halted in her tracks and +stood rigid, her own face paling. + +“Why, Mrs. Mullarky, what has happened?” + +“Enough, deary.” Mrs. Mullarky waved an eloquent hand toward the rear of +the buckboard, and slowly approaching, the girl saw the huddled figure +lying there, swathed in quilts. + +She drew her breath sharply, and with pallid face, swaying a little, she +walked to the rear of the buckboard and stood, holding hard to the rim +of a wheel, looking down at Taylor’s face with its closed eyes and its +ghastly color. + +She must have screamed, then, for she felt Mrs. Mullarky’s arms around +her, and she heard the lady’s voice, saying: “Don’t, deary; he ain’t +dead, yet—an’ he won’t die—we won’t let him die.” + +She stood there by the buckboard for a time—until Mrs. Mullarky, +running to one of the outbuildings, returned with Bud Hemmingway. Then, +nerved to the ordeal by Bud’s businesslike methods, and the awful +profanity that gushed from his clenched teeth, she helped them carry +Taylor into the house. + +They took Taylor into his own room and laid him on the bed; a long, limp +figure, pitifully shattered, lying very white and still. + +The girl stayed in the room while Mrs. Mullarky and Bud ran hither and +thither getting water, cloths, stimulants, and other indispensable +articles. And during one of their absences the girl knelt beside the +bed, and resting her head close to Taylor’s—with her hands stroking his +blackened face—she whispered: + +“O Lord, save him—save him for—for me!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXII—LOOKING FOR TROUBLE + + +Before night the Arrow outfit, led by Bothwell, the range boss, came +into the ranchhouse. For the news had reached them—after the manner in +which all news travels in the cow-country—by word of mouth—and they +had come in—all those who could be spared—to determine the truth of +the rumor. + +There were fifteen of them, rugged, capable-looking fellows; and despite +the doctor’s objections, they filed singly, though noiselessly, into +Taylor’s room and silently looked down upon their “boss.” Marion, +watching them from a corner of the room, noted their quick gulps of +pity, their grim faces, the savage gleams that came into their eyes, and +she knew they were thinking of vengeance upon the men who had wrought +the injury to their employer. + +Bothwell—big, grim, and deliberate of manner—said nothing as he looked +down into his chief’s face. But later, outside the house, listening to +Bud Hemmingway’s recital of how Taylor had been brought to the +ranchhouse, Bothwell said shortly: + +“I’m takin’ a look!” + +Shortly afterward, followed by every man of the outfit who had ridden in +with him, Bothwell crossed the big basin and sent his horse up the long +slope to the big house. + +Outside they came upon the bodies of the two men with whom Taylor had +fought. And inside the house they saw the other huddled on the floor +near a door in the big front room. Silently the men filed through the +house, looking into all the rooms, and noting the wreck and ruin that +had been wrought. They saw the broken glass of the little window through +which one of Carrington’s men had fired the first shot; they noted the +hole in the ceiling—caused by a bullet from Taylor’s pistol; and they +saw another hole in the wall near the door beside which Taylor had been +standing just before he had swung the door open. + +“Three of them—an’ Carrington—accordin’ to what Bud says,” said +Bothwell. “That’s four.” He smiled bitterly. “They got him all +right—almost, I reckon. But from the looks of things they must have had +a roarin’ picnic doin’ it!” + +Not disturbing anything, the entire outfit mounted and rode swiftly down +the Dawes trail, their hearts swelling with sympathy for Taylor and +passionate hatred for Carrington, “itching for a clean-up,” as one +sullen-looking member of the outfit described his feelings. + +But there was no “clean-up.” When they reached Dawes they found the town +quiet—and men who saw them gave them plenty of room and forebore to +argue with them. For it was known that they were reckless, hardy spirits +when the mood came upon them, and that they worshiped Taylor. + +And so they entered Dawes, and Dawes treated them with respect. Passing +the city hall, they noticed some men grouped in front of the building, +and they halted, Bothwell dismounting and entering. + +“What’s the gang collectin’ for?” he asked a man—whom he knew for +Danforth. There was a belligerent thrust to Bothwell’s chin, and a glare +in his eyes that, Danforth felt, must be met with diplomacy. + +“There’s been trouble at the Huggins house, and I’m sending these men to +investigate.” + +“Give them diggin’ tools,” said Bothwell grimly. “An’ remember this—if +there’s any more herd-ridin’ of our boss the Arrow outfit is startin’ a +private graveyard!” He pinned the mayor with a cold glare: “Where’s +Carrington?” + +“In his rooms—under a doctor’s care. He’s hit—bad. A bullet in his +side.” + +“Ought to be in his gizzard!” growled Bothwell. He went out, mounted, +and led his men away. They were reluctant to leave town, but Bothwell +was insistent. “They ain’t no fight in that bunch of plug-uglies!” he +scoffed. “We’ll go back an’ ’tend to business, an’ pull for the boss to +get well!” + +And so they returned to the Arrow, to find that the Dawes doctor was +still with Taylor. The doctor sent out word to them that there was a +slight chance for his patient, and satisfied that they had done all they +could, they rode away, to attend to “business.” + +For the first time in her life Marion Harlan was witnessing the fight of +a strong man to live despite grievous wounds that, she was certain, +would have instantly killed most men. But Taylor fought his fight +unconsciously, for he was still in that deep coma that had descended +upon him when he had gently slipped to the ground beside the house, +still fighting, still scorning the efforts of his enemies to finish him. + +And during the first night’s fever he still fought; the powerful +sedatives administered by the doctor had little effect. In his delirium +he muttered such terms and phrases as these: “Run, damn you—run! I +ain’t in any hurry, and I’ll get you!” And—“I’ll certainly smash you +some!” And—“A ‘thing,’ eh—I’ll show you! She’s mine, you miserable +whelp!” + +Whether these were thoughts, or whether they were memories of past +utterances, made vivid and brought into the present by the fever, the +girl did not know. She sat beside his bed all night, with the doctor +near her, waiting and watching and listening. + +And she heard more: “That’s Larry’s girl, and it’s up to me to protect +her.” And—“I knew she’d look like that.” Also—“They’re both tryin’ to +send her to hell! But I’ll fool them!” At these times there was +ineffable tenderness in his voice. But at times he broke out in terrible +wrath. “Ambush me, eh? Ha, ha! That was right clever of you, Spotted +Tail—we didn’t make a good target, did we? Only for your sense we’d +have—” He ceased, to begin anew: “I’ve got _you_—damn you!” And then +he would try to sit erect, swinging his arms as though he were trying to +hit someone. + +But toward morning he fell into a fitful sleep—the sleep of exhaustion; +and when the dawn came, Mrs. Mullarky ordered the girl, pale and wan +from her night’s vigilance and service, to “go to bed.” + +For three days it was the same. And for three days the doctor stayed at +the side of the patient, only sleeping when Miss Harlan watched over +Taylor. + +And during the three days’ vigil, Taylor’s delirium lasted. The girl +learned more of his character during those three days of constant +watchfulness than she would have learned in as many years otherwise. +That he was honorable and courageous, she knew; but that he was so +sincerely apprehensive over her welfare she had never suspected. For she +learned through his ravings that he had fought Carrington and the three +men for her; that he had deliberately sought Carrington to punish him +for the attack on her, and that he had not considered his own danger at +all. + +And at the beginning of the fourth day, when he opened his eyes and +stared wonderingly about the room, his gaze at first resting upon the +doctor, and then traveling to the girl’s face, and remaining there for a +long time, while a faint smile wreathed his lips, the girl’s heart beat +high with delight. + +“Well, I’m still a going it,” he said weakly. + +“I remember,” he went on, musingly. “When they was handing it to me, I +was thinking that I was in pretty bad shape. And then they must have +handed it to me some more, for I quit thinking at all. I’m going to pull +through—ain’t I?” + +“You are!” declared the doctor. “That is,” he amended, “if you keep your +trap shut and do a lot of sleeping.” + +“For which I’m going to have a lot of time,” smiled Taylor. “I’m going +to sleep, for I feel mighty like sleeping. But before I do any sleeping, +there’s a thing I want to know. Did Carrington’s men—the last two—get +away, or did I——” + +“You did,” grinned the doctor. “Bothwell rode over there to find +out—and Mullarky saw them. Mullarky brought you back—and got me.” + +“Carrington?” inquired the patient. + +“Mullarky saw him. He says he never saw a man so beat up in his life. +Besides, you shot him, too—in the side. Not dangerous, but a heap +painful.” + +Taylor smiled and looked at Miss Harlan. “I knew you were here,” he +said; “I’ve felt you near me. It was mighty comforting, and I want to +thank you for it. There were times when I must have shot off my mouth a +heap. If I said anything I shouldn’t have said, I’m a whole lot sorry. +And I’m asking your pardon.” + +“You didn’t,” she said, her eyes eloquent with joy over the improvement +in him. + +“Well, then, I’m going to sleep.” He raised his right hand—his good +one—and waved it gayly at them—and closed his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII—A WORLD-OLD LONGING + + +Looking back upon the long period of Taylor’s convalescence, Marion +Harlan could easily understand why she had surrendered to the patient. + +In the first place, she had liked Taylor from the very beginning—even +when she had affected to ridicule him on the train coming toward Dawes. +She had known all along that she had liked him, and on that morning when +she had visited the Arrow to ask about her father Taylor had woven a +magnetic spell about her. + +That meeting and the succeeding ones had merely strengthened her liking +for him. But the inevitable intimacy between nurse and patient during +several long weeks of convalescence had wrought havoc with her heart. + +Taylor’s unfailing patience and good humor had been another factor in +bringing about her surrender. It was hard for her to believe that he had +fought a desperate battle which had resulted in the death of three men +and the wounding of Carrington and himself; for there were no savage +impulses or passions gleaming in the eyes that followed her every +movement while she had been busy in the sickroom for some weeks. Nor +could she see any lingering threat in them, promising more violence upon +his recovery. He seemed to have forgotten that there had been a fight, +and during the weeks that she had been close to him he had not even +mentioned it. He had been content, it seemed, to lounge in a chair and +listen to her while she read, to watch her; and there had been times +when she had seen a glow in his eyes that told her things that she +longed to hear him say. + +The girl’s surrender had not been conveyed to Taylor in words, though +she was certain he knew of it; for the signs of it must have been +visible, since she could feel the blushes in her cheeks at times when a +word or a look passing between them was eloquent with the proof of her +aroused emotions. + +It was on a morning about six weeks following the incident of the +shooting that she and Taylor had walked to the river. Upon a huge flat +rock near the edge of a slight promontory they seated themselves, Taylor +turned slightly, so that she had only a profile view of him. + +Taylor’s thoughts were grave. For from where he and the girl sat—far +beyond the vast expanse of green-brown grass that carpeted the big +level—he could see a huge cleft in some mountains. And the sight of +that cleft sent Taylor’s thoughts leaping back to the days he and Larry +Harlan had spent in these mountains, searching for—and finding—that +gold for which they had come. And inevitably as the contemplation of the +mountains brought him recollections of Larry Harlan he was reminded of +his obligation to his old-time partner. And the difficulties of +discharging that obligation were increasing, it seemed. + +At least, Taylor’s duty was not quite clear to him. For while Parsons +still retained a place in the girl’s affections he could not turn over +to her Larry’s share of the money he had received from the sale of the +mine. + +And Parsons did retain the girl’s affections—likewise her confidence +and trust. A man must be blind who could not see that. For the girl +looked after him as any dutiful girl might care for a father she loved. +Her attitude toward the man puzzled Taylor, for, he assured himself, if +she would but merely study the man’s face perfunctorily she could not +have failed to see the signs of deceit and hypocrisy in it. All of which +convinced Taylor of the truth of the old adage: “Love is blind.” + +One other influence which dissuaded Taylor from an impulse to turn over +Larry’s money to the girl was his determination to win her on his own +merits. That might have seemed selfishness on his part, but now that the +girl was at the Arrow he could see that she was well supplied with +everything she needed. Her legacy would not buy her more than he would +give her gratuitously. And he did not want her to think for a single +moment he was trying to buy her love. That, to his mind was gross +commercialism. + +Marion was not looking at the mountains; she was watching Taylor’s +profile—and blushing over thoughts that came to her. + +For she wished that she might have met him under different +conditions—upon a basis of equality. And that was not the basis upon +which they stood now. She had come to the Arrow because she had no other +place to go, vindicating her action upon Taylor’s declaration that he +had been her father’s friend. + +That had been a tangible premise, and was sufficient to satisfy, or to +dull, any surface scruples he might have had regarding the propriety of +the action. But her own moral sense struck deeper than that. She felt +she had no right to be here; that Taylor had made the offer of a +partnership out of charity. And so long as she stayed here, dependent +upon him for food and shelter, she could not permit him to speak a word +of love to her—much as she wanted him to speak it. Such was the +puritanical principle driven deep into the moral fabric of her character +by a mother who had set her a bad example. + +This man had fought for her; he had risked his life to punish a man who +had wronged her in thought, only; and she knew he loved her. And yet, +seated so near him, she could not put out the hand that longed to touch +him. + +However, her thoughts were not tragic—far from it! Youth is hopeful +because it has so long to wait. And there was in her heart at this +moment a presentiment that time would sever the bonds of propriety that +held her. And the instincts of her sex—though never having been tested +in the arts of coquetry—told her how to keep his heart warm toward her +until that day, having achieved her independence, she could meet him on +a basis of equality. + +“Mr. Squint,” she suddenly demanded; “what are you thinking about?” + +He turned and looked full at her, his eyes glowing with a grave humor. + +“I’d tell you if I thought you’d listen to me,” he returned, +significantly. “But it seems that every time I get on that subject you +poke fun at me. Is there _anything_ I can do to show you that I love +you—that I want you more than any man ever wanted a woman?” + +“Yes—there is.” Her smile was tantalizing. + +“Name it!” he demanded, eagerly. + +“Stop being tragic. I don’t like you when you are tragic—or when you +are talking nonsense about love. I have heard so much of it!” + +“From me, I suppose?” he said, gloomily. + +He had turned his head and she shot a quick, eloquent glance at him. +“From you—and several others,” she said, deliberately. + +There was a resentful, hurt look in his eyes when he turned and looked +at her. “Just how many?” he demanded, somewhat gruffly. + +“Jealous!” she said, shaking her finger at him. “Do you want a bill of +particulars? Because if you do,” she added, looking demurely downward, +“I should have to take several days to think it over. You see, a woman +can’t catalogue everything men say to her—for they say so many silly +things!” + +“Love isn’t silly,” he declared. He looked rather fiercely at her. “What +kind of a man do you like best?” he demanded. + +She blushed. “I like a big man—about as big as you,” she said. “A man +with fierce eyes that glower at a woman when she talks to him of +love—she insisting that she hasn’t quite fallen in love—with _him_. I +like a man who is jealous of the reputation of the woman he _professes_ +to love; a man who is jealous of other men; a man who isn’t so very +good-looking, but who is a handsome man for all that—because he is so +very manly; a man who will fight and risk his life for me.” + +“Could you name such a man?” he said. There was a scornful gleam in his +eyes. + +“I am looking at him this minute!” she said. + +Grinning, for he knew all along that she had been talking of him, he +wheeled quickly and tried to catch her in his arms. But she slipped off +the rock and was around on the other side of it, keeping it between them +while he tried to catch her. Instinctively he realized that the chase +was hopeless, but he persisted. + +“I’ll never speak to you again if you catch me!” she warned, her eyes +flashing. + +“But you told me——” + +“That I liked you,” she interrupted. “And liking a man isn’t——” + +And then she paused and looked down, blushing, while Taylor, in the act +of vaulting over the rock, collapsed and sat on it instead, red of face +and embarrassed. + +For within a dozen paces of them, and looking rather embarrassed and +self-conscious, himself, though with a twinkle in his eyes that made +Taylor’s cheeks turn redder—was Bud Hemmingway. + +“I’m beggin’ your pardon,” said the puncher; “but I’ve come to tell you +that Neil Norton is here—again. He’s been settin’ on the porch for an +hour or two—he says. But I think he’s stretching it. Anyway, he’s tired +of waitin’ for you—he says—an’ he’s been wonderin’ if you was goin’ to +set on that boulder all day!” + +Taylor slipped off the rock and started toward Bud, feigning resentment. + +Bud, his face agitated by a broad grin, deliberately winked at Miss +Harlan—though he spoke to Taylor. + +“I’d be a little careful about how I went to jumpin’ off boulders—you +might bust your ankle again!” + +And then Taylor grinned at Miss Harlan—who pretended a severity she did +not feel; while Bud, cackling mirthfully, went toward the ranchhouse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV—A DEATH WARRANT + + +Carrington was not a coward; he was not even a cautious man. And the +bitter malice that filled his heart, together with riotous impulses that +seethed in his brain prompted him to go straight to the Arrow, wreak +vengeance upon Taylor and drag Marion Harlan back to the big house he +had bought for her. + +But a certain memory of Taylor’s face when the latter had been pursuing +him through the big house; a knowledge of Taylor’s ability to inflict +punishment, together with a divination that Taylor would not hesitate to +kill him should there arise the slightest opportunity—all these +considerations served to deter Carrington from undertaking any rash +action. + +Taylor’s opposition to his desires enraged Carrington. He had met and +conquered many men—and he had coolly and deliberately robbed many +others, himself standing secure and immune behind legal barriers. And he +had seen his victims writhe and squirm and struggle in the meshes he had +prepared for them. He had heard them rave and wail and threaten; but not +one of them had attempted to inflict physical punishment upon him. + +Taylor, however, was of the fighting type. On two occasions, now, +Carrington had been given convincing proof of the man’s ability. And he +had seen in Taylor’s eyes on the latest occasion the implacable gleam of +iron resolution and—when Taylor had gone down, fighting to the last, in +the sanguinary battle at the big house, he had not failed to note the +indomitability of the man—the tenacious and dogged spirit that knows no +defeat—a spirit that would not be denied. + +And so, though Carrington’s desires would have led him to recklessly +carry the fight to the Arrow, certain dragging qualms of reluctance +dissuaded him from another meeting with Taylor on equal terms. + +And yet the malevolent passions that gripped the big man would not +tolerate the thought of opposition. Taylor was the only man who stood +between him and his desires, and Taylor must be removed. + +During the days of Carrington’s confinement to his rooms above the +Castle—awaiting the slow healing of the wound Taylor had inflicted upon +him, and the many bruises that marred his face—mementoes of the +terrible punishment Taylor had inflicted upon him—the big man nursed +his venomous thoughts and laid plans for revenge upon his enemy. + +As soon as he was able to appear in Dawes—to undergo without +humiliation the inspection of his face by the citizens of the town—for +news of his punishment had been whispered broadcast—he boarded a +westbound train. + +He got off at Nogel, a little mining town sitting at the base of some +foothills in the Sangre de Christo Range, some miles from Dawes. + +He spent three days in Nogel, interrogating the resident manager of the +“Larry’s Luck” mine, talking with miners and storekeepers and quizzing +men in saloons—and at the beginning of the fourth day he returned to +Dawes. + +At about the time Miss Harlan and Taylor were sitting on the rock on the +bank of the river near the Arrow, Carrington was in the courthouse at +Dawes, leaning over Judge Littlefield’s desk. A tall, sleek-looking man +of middle age, with a cold, steady eye and a smooth smile, stood near +Carrington. The man was neatly attired, and looked like a prosperous +mine-owner or operator. + +But had the judge looked sharply at his hands when he gripped the one +that was held out to him when Carrington introduced the man; or had he +been a physiognomist of average ability, he could not have failed to +note the smooth softness of the man’s hands and the gleam of guile and +cunning swimming deep in his eyes. + +But the judge noted none of those things. He had caught the man’s +name—Mint Morton—and instantly afterward all his senses became +centered upon what the man was saying. + +For the man spoke of conscience—and the judge had one of his own—a +guilty one. So he listened attentively while the man talked. + +The thing had been bothering the man for some months—or from the time +it happened, he said. And he had come to make a confession. + +He was a miner, having a claim near Nogel. He knew Quinton Taylor, and +he had known Larry Harlan. One morning after leaving his mine on a trip +to Nogel for supplies, he had passed close to the “Larry’s Luck” mine. +Being on good terms with the partners, he had thought of visiting them. +Approaching the mine on foot—having left his horse at a little +distance—he heard Taylor and Harlan quarreling. He had no opportunity +to interfere, for just as he came upon the men he saw Taylor knock +Harlan down with a blow of his fist. And while Harlan lay unconscious on +the ground Taylor had struck him on the head with a rock. + +Morton had not revealed himself, then, fearing Taylor would attack him. +He had concealed himself, and had seen Taylor, apparently remorseful, +trying to revive Harlan. These efforts proving futile, Taylor had rigged +up a drag, placed Harlan on it, and had taken him to Nogel. But Harlan +died on the way. + +To Littlefield’s inquiry as to why Morton had not reported the murder +instantly, the man replied that, being a friend to Taylor, he had been +reluctant to expose him. + +After the man concluded his story the judge and Carrington exchanged +glances. There was a vindictively triumphant gleam in Littlefield’s +eyes, for he still remembered the humiliation he had endured at Taylor’s +hands. + +He took Morton’s deposition, told him he would send for him, later; and +dismissed him. Carrington, appearing to be much astonished over the +man’s confession, accompanied him to the station, where he watched him +board the train that would take him back to Nogel. + +And on the platform of one of the coaches, Carrington, grinning +wickedly, gave the man a number of yellow-backed treasury notes. + +“You think I won’t have to come back—to testify against him?” asked the +man, smiling coldly. + +“Certainly not!” declared Carrington. “You’ve signed his death warrant +this time!” + +Carrington watched the train glide westward, and then returned to the +courthouse. He found the judge sitting at his desk, gazing meditatively +at the floor. For there had been something insincere in Morton’s +manner—his story of the murder had not been quite convincing—and in +spite of his resentment against Taylor the judge did not desire to add +anything to the burden already carried by his conscience. + +Carrington grinned maliciously as he halted at Littlefield’s side and +laid a hand on the other’s arm. + +“We’ve got him, Littlefield!” he said. “Get busy. Issue a warrant for +his arrest. I’ll have Danforth send you some men to serve as +deputies—twenty of them, if you think it necessary!” + +The judge cleared his throat and looked with shifting eyes at the other. + +“Look here, Carrington,” he said, “I—I have some doubts about the +sincerity of that man Morton. I’d like to postpone action in this case +until I can make an investigation. It seems to me that—that Taylor, for +all his—er—seeming viciousness, is not the kind of man to kill his +partner. I’d like to delay just a little, to——” + +“And let Taylor get wind of the thing—and escape. Not by a damned +sight! One man’s word is as good as another’s in this country; and it’s +your duty as a judge of the court, here, to act upon any complaint. You +issue the warrant. I’ll get Keats to serve it. He’ll bring Taylor here, +and you can legally examine him. That’s merely justice!” + +Half an hour later, Carrington was handing the warrant to a big, +rough-looking man with an habitual and cruel droop to the corners of his +mouth. + +“You’d better take some men with you, Keats,” suggested Carrington. +“He’ll fight, most likely,” he grinned, evilly. “Understand,” he added; +“if you should have to kill Taylor bringing him in, there would be no +inquiry made. And—” he looked at Keats and grinned, slowly and +deliberately closing an eye. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV—KEATS LOOKS FOR “SQUINT” + + +Neil Norton had been attending to Taylor’s affairs in Dawes during the +latter’s illness, and he had ridden to the Arrow this morning to discuss +with Taylor a letter he had received—for Taylor—from a Denver cattle +buyer. The inquiry was for Herefords of certain markings and quality, +and Norton could give the buyer no information. So Norton had come to +Taylor for the information. + +“The herd is grazing in the Kelso Basin,” Taylor told Norton. Norton +knew the Kelso Basin was at least fifteen miles distant from the Arrow +ranchhouse—a deep, wide valley directly west, watered by the same river +that flowed near the Arrow ranchhouse. + +“I can’t say, offhand, whether we’ve got what your Denver man wants.” He +grinned at Norton, adding: “But it’s a fine morning for a ride, and I +haven’t done much riding lately. I’ll go and take a look.” + +“I’ll be looking, too,” declared Norton. “The _Eagle_ forms are ready +for the press, and there isn’t much to do.” + +Later, Taylor, mounted on Spotted Tail, and Norton on a big, rangy +sorrel, the two men rode away. Taylor stopped at the horse corral gate +long enough to tell Bud Hemmingway, who was replacing a bar, that he and +Norton were riding to the Kelso Basin. + +And there was one other to whom he had spoken—when he had gone into the +house to buckle on his cartridge-belt and pistols, just before he went +out to saddle Spotted Tail. It was the girl who had tantalized him while +they had been sitting on the rock. She had not spoken frivolously to him +inside the house; instead, she had gravely warned him to be “careful;” +that his wounds might bother him on a long ride—and that she didn’t +want him to suffer a relapse. And she watched him as he and Norton rode +away, following the dust-cloud that enveloped them until it vanished +into the mists of distance. Then she turned from the door with a sigh, +thinking of the fate that had made her dependent upon the charity of the +man she loved. + +To Bud Hemmingway, working at the corral gate about an hour following +the departure of Taylor and Norton, there came an insistent demand to +look toward Dawes. It was merely one of those absurd impulses founded +upon a whim provoked by self-manufactured presentiment—but Bud looked. +What he saw caused him to stand erect and stare hard at the trail +between Mullarky’s cabin and the Arrow—for about two miles out came a +dozen or more riders, their horses traveling fast. + +For several seconds Bud watched intently, straining his eyes in an +effort to distinguish something about the men that would make their +identity clear. And then he dropped the hammer he had been working with +and ran to the bunkhouse, where he put on his cartridge-belt and pistol. + +Returning to the bunkhouse door, he stood in it for a time, watching the +approaching men. Then he scowled, muttering: + +“It’s that damned Keats an’ some of his bunch! What in hell are they +wantin’ at the Arrow?” + +Bud was standing near the edge of the front gallery when Keats and his +men rode up. There were fourteen of the men, and, like their leader, +they were ill-visaged, bepistoled. + +Marion Harlan had heard the noise of their approach, and she had come to +the front door. She stood in the opening, her gaze fixed inquiringly +upon the riders, though chiefly upon Keats, whose manner proclaimed him +the leader. He looked at Bud. + +“Hello, Hemmingway!” he greeted, gruffly. “I take it the outfit ain’t +in?” + +“Workin’, Kelso,” returned Bud. Bud’s gaze at Keats was belligerent; he +resented the presence of Keats and the men at the Arrow, for he had +never liked Keats, and he knew the relations between the visitor and +Taylor were strained almost to the point of open antagonism. + +“What’s eatin’ you guys?” demanded Bud. + +“Plenty!” stated Keats importantly. He turned to the men. + +“Scatter!” he commanded; “an’ rustle him up, if he’s anywhere around! +Hey!” he shouted at a slender, rat-faced individual. “You an’ Darbey +search the house! Two more of you take a look at the bunkhouse—and the +rest of you nose around the other buildin’s. Keep your eyes peeled, an’ +if he goes to gettin’ fresh, plug him plenty!” + +“Why, what is wrong?” demanded Marion. Her face was pale with +indignation, for she resented the authoritative tone used by Keats as +much as she resented the thought of the two men entering the house +unbidden. + +Keats’s face flamed with sudden passion. With a snap of his wrist he +drew his gun and trained its muzzle on Bud. + +“Wrong enough!” he snapped. He was looking at Bud while answering Miss +Harlan’s question. “I’m after Squint Taylor, an’ I’m goin’ to get +him—that’s all! An’ if you folks go to interferin’ it’ll be the worse +for you!” + +Marion stiffened and braced herself in the doorway, her eyes wide with +dread and her lips parted to ask the question that Bud now spoke, his +voice drawling slightly with sarcasm. + +“Taylor, eh?” he said. “What you wantin’ with Taylor?” + +“I’m wantin’ him for murderin’ Larry Harlan!” snapped Keats. + +Bud gulped, drew a deep breath and went pale. He looked at Marion, and +saw that the girl was terribly moved by Keats’s words. But neither the +girl nor Bud spoke while Keats dismounted, crossed the porch, and +stopped in front of the door, which was barred by the girl’s body. + +“Get out of the way—I’m goin’ in!” ordered Keats. + +The girl moved aside to let him pass, and as he crossed the threshold +she asked, weakly: + +“How do you—how do they know Mr. Taylor killed Larry Harlan?” + +Keats turned on her, grinning mirthlessly. + +“How do we know anything?” he jeered. “Evidence—that’s what—an’ plenty +of it!” + +Keats vanished inside, and Bud, his eyes snapping with the alert glances +he threw around him, slowly backed away from the porch toward the +stable. As he turned, after backing several feet, he saw Marion walk +slowly to a rocker that stood on the porch, drop weakly into it and +cover her face with her hands. + +Gaining the stable, Bud worked fast; throwing a saddle and bridle upon +King, the speediest horse in the Arrow outfit, excepting Spotted Tail. + +With movements that he tried hard to make casual, but with an impatience +that made his heart pound heavily, he got King out and led him to the +rear of the stable. + +Some of Keats’s men were running from one building to another; but he +was not Taylor, and they seemed to pay no attention to him, beyond +giving him sharp glances. + +Passing behind the blacksmith-shop, Bud heard a voice saying: + +“Dead or alive, Keats says; an’ they’d admire to have him dead. I heard +Carrington tellin’ Keats!” + +As the sound of the voice died away, Bud touched King’s flank with the +spurs. The big horse, after a day in the stable, was impatient and eager +for a run, and he swept past the scattered buildings of the ranch with +long, swift leaps that took him out upon the plains before Keats could +complete his search of the first floor of the house. + +The two men who had searched the upper floor came downstairs, to meet +Keats in the front room. They grimly shook their heads at Keats, and at +his orders went outside to search with the other men. + +Keats stepped to the door, saw Marion sitting limply in the +rocking-chair, her shoulders convulsed with sobs, and crossed to her, +shaking her with a brutal arm. + +“Where’s that guy I left standin’ there? Where’s he—Hemmingway?” + +“I don’t know,” said the girl dully. + +Keats cursed and ran to the edge of the porch. With his gaze sweeping +the buildings, the pasture, the corrals, and the wide stretch of plain +westward, he stiffened, calling angrily to his men: + +“There he goes—damn him! It’s that sneakin’ Bud Hemmingway, an’ he’s +gone to tell Taylor we’re after him! He knows where Taylor is! Get your +hosses!” + +Forced to her feet by the intense activity that followed Keats’s loudly +bellowed orders, the girl crossed the porch, and from a point near the +end railing watched Keats and his men clamber into their saddles and +race after Bud. For a long time she watched them—a tiny blot gliding +over the plains, followed by a larger blot—and then she walked slowly +to the rocking-chair, looked down at it as though its spaciousness +invited her; then she turned from it, entered the house, and going to +her room—where Martha was sleeping—began feverishly throwing her few +belongings into the small handbag she had brought with her from the big +house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI—KEATS FINDS “SQUINT” + + +Looking back after he had been riding for some minutes, Bud saw a dozen +or more horses break from the group of Arrow buildings and come racing +toward him, spreading out fanwise. + +“They’ve seen me!” breathed Bud, and he leaned over King’s shoulders and +spoke to him. The animal responded with a burst of speed that brought a +smile to Bud’s face. For the puncher knew that Taylor and Norton +couldn’t have traveled more than a few miles in the short time that had +passed since their departure; and he knew also that in a short run—of a +dozen miles or so—there wasn’t a horse in the Dawes section that could +catch King, barring, of course, Spotted Tail, the real king of range +horses. + +And so Bud bent eagerly to his work, not riding erect in the saddle as +is the fashion of the experienced cow-puncher in an unfamiliar country, +where pitfalls, breaks, draws, hidden gullies, and weed-grown barrancas +provide hazards that might bring disaster. Bud knew this section of the +country as well as he knew the interior of the bunkhouse, and with his +knowledge came a confidence that nothing would happen to him or King, +except possibly a slip into a gopher hole. + +And Bud kept scanning the country far enough ahead to keep King from +running into a gopher town. He swung the animal wide in passing +them—for he knew it was the habit of these denizens of the plains to +extend their habitat—some venturesome and independent spirits straying +far from the huddle and congestion of the multitude. + +Bud looked back many times during the first two miles, and he saw that +Keats and his men were losing ground; their horses could not keep the +pace set by the big bay flier under Bud. + +And King was not going as he could go when the necessity arrived. This +ride was a frolic for the big bay, and yet Bud knew he must not force +him, that he must conserve his wind, for if Taylor and Norton had +yielded to a whim to hurry, even King would need all his speed and +endurance to hang on. For the sorrel that had accompanied Spotted Tail +was not so greatly inferior to King that the latter could take liberties +with him. + +Bud gloated as he looked back after he had covered another mile. Keats +and his men were still losing ground, though they were not so very far +back, either—Bud could almost see the faces of the men. But that, Bud +knew, was due to the marvelous clarity of the atmosphere. + +When the sides of the big hills surrounding the level began to sweep +inward rapidly, Bud knew that the grass level was coming to an end, and +that presently he would strike a long stretch of broken country. Beyond +that was a big valley, rich and fertile, in which, according to report, +the Arrow herd should be grazing, guarded by the men of the outfit, +under Bothwell. But Kelso Basin was still nine or ten miles distant, and +Bud did not yet dare to let the big bay horse run his best. + +Still, when they flashed by a huge promontory that stood sentinel-like +above the waters of the river—a spot well remembered by Bud, because +many times while on day duty he had lain prone on its top smoking and +dreaming—King was running as lightly as a leaf before the hurricane. + +King had entered the section of broken country, with its beds of rock +and lava, and huge boulders strewn here and there, relics of gigantic +upheavals when the earth was young; and Bud was skilfully directing King +to the stretches of smooth level that he found here and there, when far +ahead he saw Taylor and Norton. + +In ten minutes he was within hailing distance, and he grinned widely +when, hearing him, they pulled their horses to a halt and, wheeling, +faced him. + +For Bud saw that they had reached a spot which would make an admirable +defensive position, should Taylor decide to resist Keats. The hills, in +their gradual inward sweep, were close together, so that their crests +seemed to nod to one another. And a little farther down, Bud knew, they +formed a gorge, which still farther on merged into a cañon. It was an +ideal position for a stand—if Taylor would stand and not run for it; +and he rather thought Taylor would not run. + +Taylor had ridden toward Bud, and was a hundred feet in advance of +Norton when Bud pulled King to a halt, shouting: + +“Keats and a dozen men are right behind me—a mile; mebbe two! He’s got +a warrant for you, chargin’ you with murderin’ Larry Harlan! I heard one +of his scum sayin’ it was to be a clean-up!” + +Taylor laughed; he did not seem to be at all interested in Keats or his +men, who at that instant were riding at a pace that was likely to kill +their horses, should they be forced to maintain it. + +“Who accused me of murdering Harlan?” + +“Keats didn’t say. But I heard a guy sayin’ that Carrington was wantin’ +Keats to take you dead!” + +The cold gleam in Taylor’s eyes and the slight, stiff grin that wreathed +his lips, indicated that he had determined that Keats would have to kill +him before taking him. + +“A dozen of them, eh?” he said, looking from Bud to Norton deliberately. +“Well, that’s a bunch for three men to fight, but it isn’t enough to run +from. We’ll stay here and have it out with them. That is,” he added with +a quick, quizzical look at the two men, “if one of you is determined to +stay.” + +“One of us?” flared Bud. He gazed hard at Norton, with suspicion and +belligerence in his glance. Norton flushed at the look. “I reckon we’ll +both be in at the finish,” added Bud. + +“Only one,” declared Taylor. “We might hold a dozen men off here for a +good many hours. But if they were wise and patient they’d get us. One +man will light out for Kelso Basin to get the outfit. Settle it between +you, but be quick about it!” + +Taylor swung down from his horse, led the animal out of sight behind a +jutting crag into a sort of pocket in the side of the gorge, where there +would be no danger of the magnificent beast being struck by a bullet. +Taylor pulled his rifle from its saddle-sheath, examined the mechanism, +looked at his pistols, and then returned to where Bud Hemmingway and +Neil Norton sat on their horses. + +Bud’s face was flushed and Norton was grinning. And at just the instant +Taylor came in sight of them Norton was saying: + +“Well, if you insist, I suppose I shall have to go to Kelso. There isn’t +time to argue.” + +Norton wheeled his horse, and, with a quick grin at Taylor, sent the +animal clattering down the gorge. + +Bud’s grin at Taylor was pregnant with guilt. + +“Norton didn’t want me to stay. There’s lots of stubborn cusses in the +world—now, ain’t they?” + +Taylor’s answering smile showed that he understood. + +“Get King back here with Spotted Tail, Bud!” he directed. “And take that +pile of rocks for cover. They’re coming!” + +By the time Bud did as he had been bidden, and was crouching behind a +huge mound of broken rock on the north side of the gorge, Taylor on the +southern side, with a twenty-foot passage on the comparatively level +floor of the gorge between them, and an uninterrupted sweep of narrow +level in front of them, except for here and there a jutting rock or a +boulder, they saw Keats and his men just entering the stretch of broken +country. + +The horses of the pursuing outfit were doing their best. They came on +over the stretch of treacherous trail, laboring, pounding and +clattering; singly sometimes, two and three abreast where there was +room, keeping well together, their riders urging them with quirt and +spur. For far back on the trail they had lost sight of Bud, though Keats +had remembered that Bud had said Taylor had gone to Kelso Basin, and +therefore Keats knew he was on the right trail. + +However, he did not want to let Bud get to Kelso before him to warn the +Arrow outfit; for that would mean a desperate battle with a force equal +in numbers to his own. Keats fought best when the advantages were with +him, and he knew his men were similarly constituted. And so he was +riding as hard as he dared, hoping that something would happen to Bud’s +horse—that the animal might become winded or fall. A man could not tell +what _might_ happen in a pursuit of this character. + +But the thing that _did_ happen had not figured in Keats’s lurid +conjectures at all. That was why, when he heard Taylor’s quick +challenge, he pulled his horse up sharply, so that the animal slipped +several feet and came to a halt sidewise. + +Keats’s unexpected halt brought confusion to his followers. A dozen of +them, crowding Keats hard, and not noticing their leader’s halt in time, +rode straight against him, their horses jamming the narrow gorge, +kicking, snorting and squealing in a disordered and uncontrollable mass. + +When the tangle had been magically undone—the magic being Taylor’s +voice again, burdened with sarcasm bearing upon their excitement—Keats +found himself nearest the nest of rocks from behind which Taylor’s voice +seemed to come. + +The jutting crag behind which Taylor had concealed his horse, and where +Bud had led King, completely obstructed Keats’s view of the gorge behind +the crag, toward Kelso Basin, and Keats did not know but that the entire +Arrow outfit was concealed behind the rocks and boulders that littered +the level in the vicinity. + +And so he sat motionless, slowly and respectfully raising his hands. +Noting his action, his men did likewise. + +“That’s polite,” came Taylor’s voice coldly. “Hemmingway says you’re +looking for me. What for?” + +“I’ve got a warrant for you, chargin’ you with murderin’ Larry Harlan.” + +“Who accused me?” + +“Mint Morton, of Nogel.” + +There was a long silence. Behind the clump of rock Taylor smiled +mirthlessly at Bud, who was watching him. For Taylor knew Mint Morton, +of Nogel, as a gambler, unscrupulous and dishonest. He had earned +Morton’s hatred when one night in a Nogel saloon he had caught Morton +cheating and had forced him to disgorge his winnings. His victim had +been a miner on his way East with the earnings of five years in his +pockets. Taylor had not been able to endure the spectacle of abject +despair that had followed the man’s loss of all his money. + +Taylor did not know that Carrington had hunted Morton up, paying him +well to bring the murder charge, but Taylor did know that he was +innocent of murder; and by linking Morton with Carrington he could +readily understand why Keats wanted him. He broke the silence with a +short: + +“Who issued the warrant?” + +“Judge Littlefield.” + +“Well,” said Taylor, “you can take it right back to him and tell him to +let Carrington serve it. For,” he added, a note of grim humor creeping +into his voice, “I’m a heap particular about such things, Keats. I +couldn’t let a sneak like you take me in. And I don’t like the looks of +that dirty-looking outfit with you. And so I’m telling you a few things. +I’m giving you one minute to hit the breeze out of this section. If +you’re here when that time is up, I down _you_, Keats! Slope!” + +Keats flashed one glance around at his men. Some of them already had +their horses in motion; others were nervously fingering their +bridle-reins. Keats sneered at the rock nest ahead of him. + +The intense silence which followed Taylor’s warning lasted about ten +seconds. Then Keats’s face paled; he wheeled his horse and sent it +scampering over the back trail, his men following, crowding him hard. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII—BESIEGED + + +Hemmingway tentatively suggested that a ride through the gorge toward +the Kelso Basin might simplify matters for himself and Taylor; it might, +he said, even seem to make the defending of their position unnecessary. +But his suggestions met with no enthusiasm from Taylor, who lounged +among the rocks of his place of concealment calmly smoking. + +Taylor gave some reasons for his disinclination to adopt Hemmingway’s +suggestions. + +“Norton will be back in an hour, with Bothwell and the outfit.” And now +he grinned as he looked at Bud. “Miss Harlan told me to be careful about +my scratches. I take it she don’t want no more sieges with a sick man. +And I’m taking her advice. If I’d go to riding my horse like blazes, +maybe I _would_ get sick again. And she wouldn’t take care of me +anymore. And I’d hate like blazes to run from Keats and his bunch of +plug-uglies!” + +So Hemmingway said no more on that subject. + +They smoked and talked and watched the trail for signs of Keats and his +men; while the sun, which had been behind the towering hills surrounding +the gorge, traveled slowly above them, finally blazing down from a point +directly overhead. + +It became hot in the gorge; the air was stifling and the heat +uncomfortable. Taylor did not seem to mind it, but Bud, with a vigorous +appetite, and longings that ran to flapjacks and sirup, grew impatient. + +“If a man could eat now,” he remarked once, while the sun was directly +overhead, “why, it wouldn’t be so bad!” + +And then, after the sun’s blazing rays had begun to diminish in +intensity somewhat, Bud looked upward and saw that the shimmering orb +had passed beyond the crest of a towering hill. He looked sharply at +Taylor, who was intently watching the back trail, and said gravely: + +“Norton ought to have been back with Bothwell and the bunch, now.” + +“He’s an hour overdue,” said Taylor, without looking at Bud. + +“I reckon somethin’s happened,” growled Bud. “Somethin’ always happens +when a guy’s holed up, like this. It wouldn’t be so bad if a man could +eat a little somethin’—to sort of keep him from thinkin’ of it all the +time. Or, mebbe, if there was a little excitement—or somethin’. A man +could——” + +“There’ll be plenty of excitement before long,” interrupted Taylor. +“Keats and his gang didn’t go very far. I just saw one of them sneaking +along that rock-knob, down the gorge a piece. They’re going to stalk us. +If you’re thinking of riding to Kelso—why—” He grinned at Bud’s +resentful scowl. + +Lying flat on his stomach, he watched the rock-knob he had mentioned. + +“Slick as an Indian,” he remarked once, while Bud, having ceased his +discontented mutterings, kept his gaze on the rock also. + +And then suddenly the eery silence of the gorge was broken by the sharp +crack of Taylor’s rifle, and, simultaneously, by a shriek of pain. +Report and shriek reverberated with weird, echoing cadences between the +hills, growing less distinct always and finally the eery silence reigned +again. + +“They’ll know they can’t get careless, now,” grinned Taylor, working the +ejector of his rifle. + +Bud did not reply; and for another hour both men intently scanned the +hills within range of their vision, straining their eyes to detect signs +of movement that would warn them of the whereabouts of Keats and his +men. + +Anxiously Bud watched the rays of the sun creeping up a precipitous rock +wall at a little distance. Slowly the streak of light narrowed, growing +always less brilliant, and finally, when it vanished, Bud spoke: + +“It’s comin’ on night, Squint. Somethin’s sure happened to Norton.” He +wriggled impatiently, adding: “If we’re here when night comes we’ll have +a picnic keepin’ them guys off of us.” + +Taylor said nothing until the gorge began to darken with the shadows of +twilight. Then he looked at Bud, his face grim. + +“My stubbornness,” he said shortly. “I should have taken your advice +about going to Kelso Basin—when we had a chance. But I felt certain +that Norton would have the outfit here before this. Our chance is gone, +now. There are some of Keats’s men in the hills, around us. I just saw +one jump behind that rim rock on the shoulder of that big hill—there.” +He indicated the spot. Then he again spoke to Bud. + +“There’s a chance yet—for you. You take Spotted Tail and make a run for +the basin. I’ll cover you.” + +“What about you?” grumbled Bud. + +Taylor grinned, and Bud laughed. “You was only funnin’ me, I reckon,” he +said, earnestly. “You knowed I wouldn’t slope an’ leave you to fight it +out alone—now didn’t you?” + +“But if a man was hungry,” said Taylor, “and he knew there was grub with +the outfit——” + +“I ain’t hungry no more,” declared Bud; “I’ve quit thinkin’ of flapjacks +for more than——” + +He stiffened, and the first shadows of the night were split by a long, +narrow flame-streak as his rifle crashed. And a man who had been +slipping into the shelter of a depression on the side of a hill a +hundred yards distant, tumbled grotesquely out and down, and went +sliding to the bottom of the gorge. + +As though the report of Bud’s rifle were a signal, a dozen vivid jets of +fire flamed from various points in the surrounding hills, and the +silence was rent by the vicious cracking of rifles and the drone and +thud of bullets as they sped over the heads of the two men at the bottom +of the gorge and flattened themselves against the rocks of their +shelter. + +That sound, too, died away. And in the heavy, portentous stillness which +succeeded it, there came to the ears of the two besieged men the sounds +of distant shouting, faint and far. + +“It’s the outfit!” said Taylor. + +And Bud, rolling over and over in an excess of joy over the coming of +the Arrow men, hugged an imaginary form and yelled: + +“Oh, Bothwell, you old son-of-a-gun! How I love you!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII—THE FUGITIVE + + +One thought dominated Marion Harlan’s brain as she packed her belongings +into the little handbag in her room at the Arrow—an overpowering, +monstrous, hideous conviction that she had accepted charity from the man +who was accused of murdering her father! There was no room in her brain +for other thoughts or emotions; she was conscious of nothing but the +horror of it; of the terrible uncertainty that confronted her—of the +dread that Taylor _might_ be guilty! She wanted to believe in him—she +_did_ believe in him, she told herself as she packed the bag; she could +not accept the word of Keats as final. And yet she could not stay at the +Arrow another minute—she could not endure the uncertainty. She must go +away somewhere—anywhere, until the charge were proved, or until she +could see Taylor, to look into his eyes, there to see his guilt or +innocence. + +She felt that the charge could not be true; for Taylor had treated her +so fairly; he had been so sympathetically friendly; he had seemed to +share her grief over her father’s death, and he had seemed so sincere in +his declaration of his friendliness toward the man. He had even seemed +to share her grief; and in the hallowed moments during which he had +stood beside her while she had looked into her father’s room, he might +have been secretly laughing at her! + +And into her heart as she stood in the room, now, there crept a mighty +shame—and the shadow of her mother’s misconduct never came so close as +it did now. For she, too, had violated the laws of propriety; and what +she was receiving was not more than her just due. And yet, though she +could blame herself for coming to the Arrow, she could not excuse +Taylor’s heinous conduct if he were guilty. + +And then, the first fierce passion burning itself out, there followed +the inevitable reaction—the numbing, staggering, sorrowing realization +of loss. This in turn was succeeded by a frenzied desire to go away from +the Arrow—from everybody and everything—to some place where none of +them would ever see her again. + +She started toward the door, and met Parsons—who was looking for her. +He darted forward when he saw her, and grasped her by the shoulders. + +“What has happened?” he demanded. + +She told him, and the man’s face whitened. + +“I was asleep, and heard nothing of it,” he said. “So that man Keats +said they had plenty of evidence! You are going away? I wouldn’t, girl; +there may have been a mistake. If I were you——” + +Her glance of horror brought Parsons’ protests to an end quickly. He, +too, she thought, was under the spell of Taylor’s magnetism. That, or +every person she knew was a prey to those vicious and fawning instincts +to which she had yielded—the subordination of principle to greed—of +ease, or of wealth, or of place. + +She shuddered with sudden repugnance. + +For the first time she had a doubt of Parsons—a revelation of that +character which he had always succeeded in keeping hidden from her. She +drew away from him and walked to the door, telling him that _he_ might +stay, but that she did not intend to remain in the house another minute. + +She found a horse in the stable—two, in fact—the ones Taylor had +insisted belonged to her and Martha. She threw saddle and bridle on +hers, and was mounting, when she saw Martha standing at the stable door, +watching her. + +“Yo’ uncle says you goin’ away, honey—how’s that? An’ he done say +somethin’ about Mr. Squint killin’ your father. Doan’ you b’lieve no +fool nonsense like that! Mr. Squint wouldn’t kill nobody’s father! That +deputy man ain’t nothin’ but a damn, no-good liar!” + +Martha’s vehemence was genuine, but not convincing; and the girl mounted +the horse, hanging the handbag from the pommel of the saddle. + +“You’s sure goin’!” screamed the negro woman, frantic with a dread that +she was in danger of losing the girl for whom she had formed a deep +affection. + +“You wait—you hear!” she demanded; “if you leave this house I’s a +goin’, too!” + +Marion waited until Martha led the other horse out, and then, with the +negro woman following, she rode eastward on the Dawes trail, not once +looking back. + +And not a word did she say to Martha as they rode into the space that +stretched to Dawes, for the girl’s heart was heavy with self-accusation. + +They stopped for an instant at Mullarky’s cabin, and Mrs. Mullarky drew +from the girl the story of the morning’s happenings. And like Martha, +Mrs. Mullarky had an abiding faith in Taylor’s innocence. More—she +scorned the charge of murder against him. + +“Squint Taylor murder your father, child! Why, Squint Taylor thought +more of Larry Harlan than he does of his right hand. An’ you ain’t goin’ +to run away from him—for the very good reason that I ain’t goin’ to let +you! You’re upset—that’s what—an’ you can’t think as straight as you +ought to. You come right in here an’ sip a cup of tea, an’ take a rest. +I’ll put your horses away. If you don’t want to stay at the Arrow while +Taylor, the judge, an’ all the rest of them are pullin’ the packin’ out +of that case, why, you can stay right here!” + +Yielding to the insistent demands of the good woman, Marion meekly +consented and went inside. And Mrs. Mullarky tried to make her +comfortable, and attempted to soothe her and assure her of Taylor’s +innocence. + +But the girl was not convinced; and late in the afternoon, despite Mrs. +Mullarky’s protests, she again mounted her horse and, followed by +Martha, set out toward Dawes, intending to take the first east-bound +train out of the town, to ride as far as the meager amount of money in +her purse would take her. And as she rode, the sun went down behind the +big hill on whose crest sat the big house, looming down upon the level +from its lofty eminence; and the twilight came, bathing the world with +its somber promise of greater darkness to follow. But the darkness that +was coming over the world could not be greater than that which reigned +in the girl’s heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX—THE CAPTIVE + + +Carrington’s experiences with Taylor had not dulled the man’s savage +impulses, nor had they cooled his feverish desire for the possession of +Marion Harlan. In his brain rioted the dark, unbridled passions of those +progenitors he had claimed in his talk with Parsons on the morning he +had throttled the little man in his rooms above the Castle. + +For the moment he had postponed the real beginning of his campaign for +the possession of Dawes, his venomous hatred for Taylor and his passion +for the girl overwhelming his greed. + +He had watched the departure of Keats and his men, a flush of exultation +on his face, his eyes alight with fires that reflected the malignant +hatred he felt. And when Keats and the others disappeared down the trail +that led to the Arrow, Carrington spent some time in Dawes. Shortly +after noon he rode out the river trail toward the big house with two men +that he had engaged to set the interior in order. + +Carrington had not seen the house since the fight with Taylor in the +front room, and the wreck and ruin that met his gaze as he stood in the +door brought a sullen pout to his lips. + +But he intended to exact heavy punishment for what had occurred at the +big house; and as he watched the men setting things to order—mending +the doors and repairing the broken furniture—he drew mental pictures +that made his eyes flash with pleasure. + +He felt that by this time Keats and his men should have settled with +Taylor. After that, he, himself, would make the girl pay. + +So he was having the house put in order, that it would again be +habitable; and then, when that was done, and Taylor out of the way, he +would go to the Arrow after the girl. But before he went to the Arrow he +would await the return of Keats with the news that Taylor would no +longer be able to thwart him. + +Never in his life had he met a man he feared as he feared Taylor. There +was something about Taylor that made Carrington’s soul shrivel. He knew +what it was—it was his conviction of Taylor’s absolute honorableness, +as arrayed against his own beastly impulses. But that knowledge merely +served to intensify his hatred for Taylor. + +Toward evening Carrington rode back to Dawes with the men; and while +there he sought news from Keats. Danforth, from whom he inquired, could +tell him nothing, and so Carrington knew that Taylor had not yet been +disposed of. But Carrington knew the time would not be long now; and in +a resort of a questionable character he found two men who listened +eagerly to his proposals. Later, the two men accompanying him, he again +rode to the big house. + +And just as dusk began to settle over the big level at the foot of the +long slope—and while the last glowing light from the day still softly +bathed the big house, throwing it into bold relief on the crest of its +flat-topped hill, Carrington was standing on the front porch, +impatiently scanning the basin for signs of Keats and his men. + +For a time he could distinguish little in the basin, for the mists of +twilight were heavy down there. And then a moving object far out in the +basin caught his gaze, and he leaned forward, peering intently, consumed +with eagerness and curiosity. + +A few minutes later, still staring into the basin, Carrington became +aware that there were two moving objects. They were headed toward Dawes, +and proceeding slowly; and at last, when they came nearer and he saw +they were two women, on horses, he stiffened and shaded his eyes with +his hands. And then he exclaimed sharply, and his eyes glowed with +triumph—for he had recognized the women as Marion Harlan and Martha. + +Moving slowly, so that he might not attract the attention of the women, +should they happen to be looking toward the big house, he went inside +and spoke shortly to the two men he had brought with him. + +An instant later the three, Carrington leading, rode into the timber +surrounding the house, filed silently through it, and with their horses +in a slow trot, sank down the long slope that led into the big basin. + +For a time they were not visible, as they worked their way through the +chaparral on a little level near the bottom of the slope; and then they +came into view again in some tall saccaton grass that grew as high as +the backs of their horses. + +They might have been swimming in that much water, for all the sound they +made as they headed through the grass toward the Dawes trail, for they +made no sound, and only their heads and the heads of their horses +appeared above the swaying grass. + +But they were seen. Martha, riding at a little distance behind Marion, +and straining her eyes to watch the trail ahead, noted the movement in +the saccaton, and called sharply to the girl: + +“They’s somethin’ movin’ in that grass off to your right, honey! It +wouldn’t be no cattle, heah; they’s never no cattle round heah, fo’ they +ain’t no water. Lawsey!” she exclaimed, as she got a clear view of them; +“it’s men!” + +Marion halted her horse. Martha’s voice had startled her, for she had +not been thinking of the present; her thoughts had been centered on +Taylor. + +A shiver of trepidation ran over her, though, when she saw the men, and +she gathered the reins tightly in her hands, ready to wheel the animal +under her should the appearance of the men indicate the imminence of +danger. + +And when she saw that danger did indeed threaten, she spoke to the horse +and turned it toward the back trail. For she had recognized one of the +three men as Carrington. + +But the horse had not taken a dozen leaps before Carrington was beside +her, his hand at her bridle. And as her horse came to a halt, +Carrington’s animal lunged against it, bringing the two riders close +together. Carrington leaned over, his face close to hers; she could feel +his breath in her face as he laughed jeeringly, his voice vibrating with +passion: + +“So it _is_ you, eh? I thought for a moment that I had made a mistake!” +Holding to her horse’s bridle-rein with a steady pull that kept the +horses close together, he spoke sharply to the two men who had halted +near Martha: “Get the nigger! I’ll take care of this one!” + +And instantly, with a brutal, ruthless strength and energy that took the +girl completely by surprise, Carrington threw a swift arm out, grasped +her by the waist, drew her out of the saddle, and swung her into his +own, crosswise, so that she lay face up, looking at him. + +She fought him then, silently, ferociously, though futilely. For he +caught her hands, using both his own, pinning hers so that she could not +use them, meanwhile laughing lowly at her efforts to escape. + +Even in the dusk she could see the smiling, savage exultation in his +eyes; the gloating, vindictive triumph, and her soul revolted at the +horror in store for her, and the knowledge nerved her to another mighty +effort. Tearing her hands free, she fought him again, scratching his +face, striking him with all her force with her fists; squirming and +twisting, even biting one of his hands when it came close to her lips as +he essayed to grasp her throat, his eyes gleaming with ruthless +malignance. + +But her efforts availed little. In the end her arms were pinned again to +her sides, and he pulled a rope from his saddle-horn and bound them. +Then, as she lay back and glared at him, muttering imprecations that +brought a mocking smile to his lips, he urged his horse forward, and +sent it clattering up the slope, the two men following with Martha. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX—PARSONS HAS HUMAN INSTINCTS + + +Elam Parsons stood on the front porch of the Arrow ranchhouse for a long +time after Marion and Martha departed, watching them as they slowly +negotiated the narrow trail that led toward Dawes. Something of the +man’s guilt assailed his consciousness as he stood there—a conception +of the miserable part he had played in the girl’s life. + +No doubt had not Fate and Carrington played a mean trick on Parsons, in +robbing him of his money and his prospects, the man would not have +entertained the thoughts he entertained at this moment; for success +would have made a reckoning with conscience a remote possibility, dim +and far. + +And perhaps it was not conscience that was now troubling Parsons; at +least Parsons did not lay the burden of his present thoughts upon so +intangible a chimera. Parsons was too much of a materialist to admit he +had a conscience. + +But a twinge of something seized Parsons as he watched the girl ride +away, and bitter thoughts racked his soul. He could not, however, +classify his emotions, and so he stood there on the porch, undecided, +vacillating, in the grip of a vague disquiet. + +Parsons sat on the porch until long after noon; for, after Marion and +Martha had vanished into the haze of distance, Parsons dropped into a +chair and let his chin sink to his chest. + +He did not get up to prepare food for himself; he did not think of +eating, for the big, silent ranchhouse and the gloomy, vacant appearance +of the other buildings drew the man’s attention to the aching emptiness +of his own life. He had sought to gain everything—scheming, planning, +plotting dishonestly; taking unfair advantage; robbing people without +compunction—and he had gained nothing. Yes—he had gained Carrington’s +contempt! + +The recollection of Carrington’s treatment of him fired his passions +with a thousand licking, leaping flames. In his gloomy meditations over +the departure of the girl, he had almost forgotten Carrington. But he +thought of Carrington now; and he sat stiff and rigid in the chair, +glowering, his lips in a pout, his soul searing with hatred. + +But even the nursing of that passion failed to satisfy Parsons. +Something lacked. There was still that conviction of utter baseness—his +own baseness—to torture him. And at last, toward evening, he discovered +that he longed for the girl. He wanted to be near her; he wanted to do +something for her to undo the wrong he had done her; he wanted to make +some sort of reparation. + +So the man assured himself. But he knew that deep in his inner +consciousness lurked the dread knowledge that Taylor was aware of his +baseness. For Taylor had overheard the conversation between Carrington +and himself on the train, and Parsons feared that should Taylor by any +chance escape Keats and his men and return to the Arrow to find Marion +gone, he would vent his rage and fury upon the man who had sinned +against the woman he loved. That was the emotion which dominated Parsons +as he sat on the porch; it was the emotion that made the man fervently +desire to make reparation to the girl; it was the emotion that finally +moved him out of his chair and upon a horse that he found in the stable, +to ride toward Dawes in the hope of finding her. + +Parsons, too, stopped at the Mullarky cabin. He discovered that Marion +had left there shortly before, after having refused Mrs. Mullarky’s +proffer of shelter until the charge against Taylor could be disproved. + +Parsons listened impatiently to the woman’s voluble defense of Taylor, +and her condemnation of Keats and all those who were leagued against the +Arrow owner. And then Parsons rode on. + +Far out in the basin, indistinct in the twilight haze, he saw Marion and +Martha riding toward Dawes, and he urged his horse in an effort to come +up with them before they reached the bottom of the long, gradual rise +that would take them into town. + +Parsons had got within half a mile of them when he saw them halt and +wait the coming of three horsemen, who advanced toward them from the +opposite direction. Parsons did not feel like joining the group, for +just at that moment he felt as though he could not bear to have anyone +see his face—they might have discovered the guilt in it—and so he +waited. + +He saw the three men ride close to the other riders; he watched in +astonishment while one of the strange riders pursued one of the women, +catching her. + +Parsons saw it all. But he did not ride forward, for he was in the grip +of a mighty terror that robbed him of power to move. For he knew one of +the strange riders was Carrington. He would have recognized him among a +thousand other men. + +Parsons watched the three men climb the big slope that led to the great +house on the flat-topped hill. For many minutes after they had reached +the crest of the hill Parsons sat motionless on his horse, gazing +upward. And when he saw a light flare up in one of the rooms of the big +house, he cursed, his face convulsed with impotent rage. + + * * * * * + +Marion Harlan did not yield to the overpowering weakness that seized her +after she realized that further resistance to Carrington would be +useless. And instead of yielding to the hysteria that threatened her, +she clenched her hands and bit her lips in an effort to retain her +composure. She succeeded. And during the progress of her captor’s horse +up the long slope she kept a good grip on herself, fortifying herself +against what might come when she and her captor reached the big house. + +When they reached the crest of the hill, Carrington ordered the two men +to take Martha around to the back of the house and confine her in one of +the rooms. One man was to guard her. The other was to wait on the front +porch until Carrington called him. + +The girl had decided to make one more struggle when Carrington +dismounted with her, but though she fought hard and bitterly, she did +not succeed in escaping Carrington, and the latter finally lifted her in +his arms and carried her into the front room, the room in which +Carrington had fought with Taylor the day Taylor had killed the three +men who had ambushed him. + +Carrington lighted a lamp—it was this light Parsons had seen from the +basin—placed it on a shelf, and in its light grinned triumphantly at +the girl. + +“Well, we are here,” he said. + +In his voice was that passion that had been in it that other time, when +he had pursued her into the house, and she had escaped him by hiding in +the attic. She cringed from him, backing away a little, and, noting the +movement, he laughed hoarsely. + +“Don’t worry,” he said, “at least for an hour or two. I’ve got something +more important on my mind. Do you know what it is?” he demanded, +grinning hugely. “It’s Taylor!” He suddenly seemed to remember that he +did not know why she had been abroad at dusk on the Dawes trail, and he +came close to her. + +“Did you see Keats today?” + +She did not answer, meeting his gaze fairly, her eyes flashing with +scorn and contempt. But he knew from the flame in her eyes that she had +seen Keats, and he laughed derisively. + +“So you saw him,” he jeered; “and you know that he came for Taylor. Did +he find Taylor at the Arrow?” + +Again she did not answer, and he went on, suspecting that Taylor had not +been at the Arrow, and that Keats had gone to search for him. “No, Keats +didn’t find him—that’s plain enough. I should have enjoyed being there +to hear Keats tell you that Taylor had killed your father. You heard +that, didn’t you? Yes,” he added, his grin broadening; “you heard that. +So that’s why you left the Arrow! Well, I don’t blame you for leaving.” + +He turned toward the door and wheeled again to face her. “You’ll enjoy +this,” he sneered; “you’ve been so thick with Taylor. Bah!” he added as +he saw her face redden at the insult; “I’ve known where you stood with +Taylor ever since I caught you flirting with him on the station platform +the day we came to Dawes. That’s why you went to the Arrow from +here—refusing my attentions to _give_ yourself to the man who killed +your father!” + +He laughed, and saw her writhe under the sound of it. + +“It hurts, eh?” he said venomously; “well, this will hurt, too. Keats +went out to get Taylor, but he will never bring Taylor in—alive. He has +orders to kill him—understand? That’s why I’ve got more important +business than you to attend to for the next few hours. I’m going to +Dawes to find out if Keats has returned. And when Keats comes in with +the news that Taylor is done for, I’m coming back here for you!” + +Calling the man who was waiting on the porch, Carrington directed him to +watch the girl; and then, with a last grin at her, he went out, mounted +his horse, and rode the trail toward Dawes. And as he rode, he laughed +maliciously, for he had not told her that the charge against Taylor was +a false one, and that, so far as he knew, Taylor was not guilty of +murdering her father. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI—A RESCUE + + +An early moon stuck a pallid rim over the crest of the big, hill-like +plateau as Parsons sat on his horse in the basin, and Parsons watched it +rise in its silvery splendor and bathe the world with an effulgent glow. +It threw house and timber on the plateau crest in bold relief, a dark +silhouette looming against a flood of shimmering light, and Parsons +could see the porch he knew so well, and could even distinguish the +break in the timber that led to the house, which merged into the trail +that stretched to Dawes. + +Parsons was still laboring with the devils of indecision and doubt. He +knew why Carrington had captured Marion, and he yearned to take the girl +from the man—for her own sake, and for the purpose of satisfying his +vengeance. But he knew that certain death awaited him up there should he +venture to show himself to Carrington. And yet a certain desperate +courage stole into Parsons as he watched from the basin, and when, about +half an hour after he had seen the flicker of light filter out of one of +the windows of the house, he saw a man emerge, mount a horse, and ride +away, he drew a deep breath of resolution and urged his own horse up the +slope. For the man who had mounted the horse up there was +Carrington—there could be no doubt of that. + +Shivering, though still obeying the courageous impulse that had seized +him, Parsons continued to ascend the slope. He went half way and then +halted, listening. No sound disturbed the solemn stillness that had +followed Carrington’s departure. + +Reassured, though by this time he was sweating coldly, Parsons +accomplished the remainder of the intervening space upward. Far back in +the timber he brought his horse to a halt, dismounted, and again +listened. Hearing nothing that alarmed him, except a loud, angry voice +from the rear of the house—a voice which he knew as Martha’s—he +cautiously made his way to the front porch, tiptoed across it, and +peered stealthily into the room out of which the light still shone, its +flickering rays stabbing weakly into the outside darkness. + +Looking into the room, Parsons could see Marion sitting in a chair. Her +hands were bound, and she was leaning back in the chair, her hair +disheveled, her face chalk-white, and her eyes filled with a haunting, +terrible dread. Near the door, likewise seated on a chair, his back to +the big room that adjoined the one in which he sat, was a +villainous-looking man who was watching the girl with a leering grin. + +The sight brought a murderous passion into Parsons’ heart, nerving him +for the deed that instantly suggested itself to him. He crept off the +porch again, moving stealthily lest he make the slightest sound that +would warn the watcher at the door, and searched at a corner of the +porch until he found what he was looking for—a heavy club, a spoke from +one of the wheels of a wagon. + +Parsons knew about where to find it, for during the days that he had sat +on the porch nursing his resentment against Carrington, he had gazed +long at the wagon-spoke, wishing that he might have an opportunity to +use it on Carrington. + +He took it, balancing it, testing its weight. And now a hideous terror +seized him, almost paralyzing him. For though Parsons had robbed many +men, he had never resorted to violence; and for a time he stood with the +club in his hand, unable to move. + +He moved at last, though, his face transformed from the strength of the +passion that had returned, and he carefully stepped on the porch, +crossed it, and stood, leaning forward, peering into the room through +the outside door left open by Carrington. The outside door opened from +the big room adjoining that in which the watcher sat, and Parsons could +see the man, who, with his back toward the door, was still looking at +Marion. + +Entering the big room, Parsons saw Marion’s eyes widen as she looked +full at him. He shook his head at her; her face grew whiter, and she +began to talk to the other man. + +Only a second or two elapsed then until Parsons struck. The man rolled +out of his chair without a sound, and Parsons, leaping over him, +trembling, his breath coming in great gasps, ran to Marion and unbound +her hands. + +Together they flew outside, where they found the girl’s horse tethered +near a tree, and Parsons’ animal standing where he had left it. + +Mounting, the girl whispered to Parsons. She was trembling, and her +voice broke with a wailing quaver when she spoke: + +“Where shall we go, Elam—where? We—I can’t go back to the Arrow! Oh, I +just can’t! And Carrington will be back! Oh! isn’t there any _way_ to +escape him?” + +“We’ll go to Dawes, girl; that’s where we’ll go!” declared Parsons, his +dread and fear of the big man equaling that of the girl. “We’ll go to +Dawes and tell them there just what kind of a man Carrington is—and +what he has tried to do with you tonight! There must be some men in +Dawes who will not stand by and see a woman persecuted!” + +And as they rode the river trail toward the town, the girl, white and +silent, riding a little distance ahead of him, Parsons felt for the +first time in his life the tingling thrills that come of an unselfish +deed courageously performed. And the experience filled him with the +spirit to do other good and unselfish deeds. + +They rode fast for a time, until the girl again spoke of Carrington’s +announced intention to return shortly. Then they rode more cautiously, +and it was well they did. For they had almost reached Dawes when they +heard the whipping tread of a horse’s hoofs on the trail, coming toward +them. They rode well back from the trail, and, concealed by some heavy +brush, saw Carrington riding toward the big house. He went past them, +vanishing into the shadows of the trees that fringed the trail, and for +a long time the girl and Parsons did not move for fear Carrington might +have slowed his horse and would hear them. And when they did come out of +their concealment and were again on the Dawes trail, they rode fast, +with the dread of Carrington’s wrath to spur them on. + + * * * * * + +It _had_ been Martha’s voice that Parsons had heard when he had been +standing in the timber near the front of the house. The negro woman was +walking back and forth in the room where her captor had confined her, +vigorously berating the man. She was a dusky thundercloud of wrath, who +rumbled verbal imprecations with every breath. Her captor—a small man +with a coarse voice, a broken nose, and a scraggy, drooping +mustache—stood in the doorway looking at her fiercely, with obvious +intent to intimidate the indignant Amazon. + +At the instant Parsons heard her voice she was confronting the man, her +eyes popping with fury. + +“You let me out of heah this minute, yo’ white trash! Yo’ heah! An’ +doan’ you think I’s scared of you, ’cause I ain’t! If you doan’ hop away +from that do’, I’s goin’ to mash yo’ haid in wif this yere chair! You +git away now!” + +The man grinned. It was a forced grin, and his face whitened with it, +betraying to Martha the fear he felt of her—which she had suspected +from the moment he had brought her in and the light from the kitchen +lamp shone on his face. + +She took a threatening step toward him; a tentative movement, a testing +of his courage. And when she saw him retreat from her slightly, she +lunged at him, raising the chair she held in her hands. + +Possibly the man was reluctant to resort to violence; he may have had a +conviction that the detaining of Martha was not at all necessary to the +success of Carrington’s plan to subjugate the white girl, or he might +have been merely afraid of Martha. Whatever his thoughts, the man +continued to retreat from the negro woman, and as she pursued him, her +courage grew, and the man’s vanished in inverse ratio. And as he passed +the center of the kitchen, he wheeled and ran out of the door, Martha +following him. + +Outside, the man ran toward the stable. For an instant Martha stood +looking after him. Then, thinking Carrington was still in the house, and +that there was no hope of her frightening him as she had frightened the +little man who had stood guard over her, she ran to where her horse +stood, clambered into the saddle, and sent the animal down the big slope +toward Mullarky’s cabin, where she hoped to find Mullarky, to send him +to the big house to rescue the girl from Carrington. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII—TAYLOR BECOMES RILED + + +By the time Bud Hemmingway had finished his grotesque expression of the +delight that had seized him, and had got to his knees and was grinning +widely at Taylor, the horses of the Arrow outfit were running down the +neck of the gorge, their hoofs drumming on the hard floor of the bottom, +awakening echoes that filled the gorge with an incessant rumbling +clatter that might have caused one to think a regiment of cavalry was +advancing at a gallop. + +Bud turned his gaze up the gorge and saw them. + +“Ain’t they great!” he yelled at Taylor. The leap in Bud’s voice +betrayed something of the strained tenseness with which the man had +endured his besiegement. + +And now that there was an even chance for him, Bud’s old humorous and +carefree impulses were again ascendant. He got to his feet, grinning, +the spirit of battle in his eyes, and threw a shot at a Keats man, far +up on a hillside, who had left his concealment and was running upward. +At the report of the rifle the man reeled, caught himself, and continued +to clamber upward, another bullet from Bud’s rifle throwing up a dust +spray at his feet. + +Other figures were now running; the slopes of the hills in the vicinity +were dotted with moving black spots as the Keats men, also hearing the +clattering of hoofs, and divining that their advantage was gone, made a +concerted break for their horses, which they had hidden in a ravine +beyond the hills. + +Taylor did not do any shooting. While Bud was standing erect among the +pile of rocks which had served as a shelter for him during the +afternoon, his rifle growing hot in his hands, and picturesque curses +issued from his lips, Taylor walked to Spotted Tail and tightened the +saddle cinches. This task did not take him long, but by the time it was +finished the Arrow outfit had dispersed the Keats men, who were fleeing +toward Dawes in scattered units. + +Bothwell, big and grim, rode to where Taylor was standing, his voice +booming as he looked sharply at Taylor. + +“I reckon we got here just in time, boss!” he said. “They didn’t git you +or Bud? No?” at Taylor’s grin. “Well, we’re wipin’ them out—that’s all! +That Keats bunch can’t run in no raw deal like that on the Arrow—not +while I’m range boss. Law? Bah! Every damned man that runs with Keats +would have stretched hemp before this if they’d have been any law in the +country! A clean-up, eh—that’s what they tryin’ to pull off. Well, +watch my smoke!” + +His voice leaping with passion, Bothwell slapped his horse sharply, and +as the animal leaped down the trail toward Dawes, Bothwell shouted to +the other men of the outfit, who had halted at a little distance back in +the gorge: + +“Come a runnin’, you yaps! That ornery bunch can’t git out of this +section without hittin’ the basin trail!” + +Bothwell and the others fled down the gorge like a devastating whirlwind +before Taylor could offer a word of objection. + +As a matter of fact, Taylor had paid little attention to Bothwell’s +threats. He knew that the big range boss was in a bitter rage, and he +had been aware of the ill-feeling that had existed for some time between +Keats and his friends and the men of the Arrow outfit. + +But the deserved punishment of Keats was not the burden his mind carried +at this instant. Dominating every other thought in Taylor’s brain was +the obvious, naked fact that Carrington had struck at him again; that he +had struck underhandedly, as usual; and that he would continue to fight +with that method until he was victorious or beaten. + +And yet Taylor was not so much concerned over the blow that had been +aimed at him as he was of its probable effect upon Marion Harlan. For of +course the girl had heard of the charge by this time—or she would hear +of it. It would be all the same in the end. And at a blow the girl’s +faith in him would be destroyed—the faith that he had been nurturing, +and upon which he had built his hopes. + +To be sure he had Larry Harlan’s note to show her, to convince her of +his innocence, but he knew that once the poison of suspicion and doubt +got into her heart, she could never give him that complete confidence of +which he had dreamed. She might, now that Carrington had spread his +poison, conclude that he had forged the note, trusting in it to disarm +the suspicions of herself and of the world. And if she were to demand +why he had not shown her the note before—when she had first come to the +Arrow—he could not tell her that he had determined never to show it to +her, lest she understand that he knew her mother’s sordid history. That +secret, he had promised himself, she would never know; nor would she +ever know of the vicious significance of that conversation he had +overheard between Carrington and Parsons on the train coming to Dawes. +He was convinced that if she knew these things she would never be able +to look him in the eyes again. + +Therefore, knowing the damage Carrington had wrought by bringing the +charge of murder against him, Taylor’s rage was now definitely centered +upon his enemy. The pursuit and punishment of Keats was a matter of +secondary consideration in his mind—Bothwell and the men of the outfit +would take care of the man. But Taylor could no longer fight off the +terrible rage that had seized him over the knowledge of Carrington’s +foul methods, and when he mounted Spotted Tail and urged him down the +trail toward the Arrow ranchhouse, there was a set to his lips that +caused Norton, who had brought his horse to a halt near him, to look +sharply at him and draw a quick breath. + +Not speaking to Norton, nor to Bud—who had also remained to watch +him—Taylor straightened Spotted Tail to the trail and sent him flying +toward the Arrow. Taylor looked neither to the right nor left, nor did +he speak to Norton and Bud, who rode hard after him. Down the trail at a +point where the neck of the gorge broadened and merged into the grass +level that stretched, ever widening, to the Arrow, Spotted Tail and his +rider flashed past a big cluster of low hills from which came +flame-streaks and the sharp, cracking reports of rifles, the yells of +men in pain, and the hoarse curses of men in the grip of the fighting +rage. + +But Taylor might not have heard the sounds. Certainly he could not have +seen the flame-streaks, unless he glimpsed them out of the corners of +his eyes, for he did not turn his head as he urged Spotted Tail on, +speeding him over the great green sweep of grass at a pace that the big +horse had never yet been ridden. + +Laboring behind him, for they knew that something momentous impended, +Norton and Bud tried their best to keep up with the flying beast ahead +of them. But the sorrel ridden by Norton, and even the great, rangy, +lionhearted King, could not hold the pace that Spotted Tail set for +them, and they fell slowly back until, when still several miles from the +Arrow, horse and rider vanished into the dusk ahead of them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII—RETRIBUTION + + +Twice descending the long slope leading to the basin, Martha’s horse +stumbled. The first time the negro woman lifted him to his feet by +jerking sharply on the reins, but when he stumbled the second time, +Martha was not alert and the horse went to his knees. Unprepared, Martha +was jolted out of the saddle and she fell awkwardly, landing on her +right shoulder with a force that knocked the breath out of her. + +She lay for a short time, gasping, her body racked with pain, and at +last, when she succeeded in getting to her feet, the horse had strayed +some little distance from her and was quietly browsing the tops of some +saccaton. + +It was several minutes before Martha caught the animal—several minutes +during which she loosed some picturesque and original profanity that +caused the experienced range horse to raise his ears inquiringly. + +Then, when she caught the horse, she had some trouble getting into the +saddle, though she succeeded after a while, groaning, and grunting, and +whimpering. + +But Martha forgot her pains and misery once she was in the saddle again, +and she rode fast, trembling with eagerness, her sympathies and her +concern solely for the white girl who, she supposed, was a prisoner in +the hands of the ruthless and unprincipled man that Martha, with her +limited vocabulary, had termed many times a “rapscallion.” + +Martha headed her horse straight for the Mullarky cabin, guided by a +faint shaft of light that issued from one of its windows. + +When she reached the cabin she found no one there but Mrs. Mullarky. +Ben, Mrs. Mullarky told Martha, had gone to Dawes—in fact, he had been +in Dawes all day, she supposed, for he had left home early that morning. + +Martha gasped out her news, and Mrs. Mullarky’s face whitened. While +Martha watched her in astonishment, she tore off the gingham apron that +adorned her, threw it into a corner, and ran into another room, from +which she emerged an instant later carrying a rifle. + +The Irishwoman’s face was pale and set, and the light of a great wrath +gleamed in her eyes. Martha, awed by the woman’s belligerent appearance, +could only stand and blink at her, her mouth gaping with astonishment. + +“You go right on to the Arrow!” she commanded Martha, as she went out of +the door; “mebbe you’ll find somebody there by this time, an’ if you do, +send them to the big house. I’m goin’ over there right this minute to +take that dear little girl away from that big brute!” + +She started while Martha was again painfully mounting her horse, and the +two women rode away in opposite directions—Martha whimpering with pain, +and Mrs. Mullarky silent, grim, with a wild rage gripping her heart. + + * * * * * + +Taylor, on Spotted Tail, was approaching the Arrow ranchhouse at a speed +slightly greater than that into which the big horse had fallen shortly +after he had left the gorge. The spirited animal was just warming to his +work, and he was doing his best when he flashed past the big cattle +corral, going with the noise of rushing wind. In an instant he was at +the long stretch of fence which formed the ranchyard side of the horse +corral, and in another instant he was sliding to a halt near the edge of +the front porch of the ranchhouse itself. There he drew a deep breath +and looked inquiringly at his master, while the latter slid off his +back, leaped upon the porch, and with a bound crossed the porch floor, +knocking chairs helter-skelter as he went. + +The house was dark, but Taylor ran through the rooms, calling sharply +for Parsons and Marion, but receiving no reply. When he emerged from the +house his face, in the light of the moon that had climbed above the +horizon some time before, was like that of a man who has just looked +upon the dead face of his best friend. + +For Taylor was convinced that he had looked upon death in the +ranchhouse—upon the death of his hopes. He stood for an instant on the +porch, while his passions raged through him, and then with a laugh of +bitter humor he leaped on Spotted Tail. + +Half-way to the Mullarky cabin, with the big horse running like the +wind, Taylor saw a shape looming out of the darkness ahead of him. He +pulled Spotted Tail down, and loosed one of his pistols, and approached +the shape warily, his muscles stiff and taut and ready for action. + +But it was only Martha who rode up to him. Her fortitude gone, her pains +convulsing her, she wailed to Taylor the story of the night’s tragic +adventure. + +“An’ Carrington’s got missy in the big house!” she concluded. “She fit +him powerful hard, but it was no use—that rapscallion too much fo’ +her!” + +She shouted the last words at Taylor, for Spotted Tail had received a +jab in the sides with the rowels that hurt him cruelly, and, angered, he +ran like a deer with the hungry cry of a wolf-pack in his ears. + +Like a black streak they rushed by Mrs. Mullarky, who breathed a +fervent, “Oh, thank the Lord, it’s Taylor!” and before the good woman +could catch her breath again, Spotted Tail and his rider had opened a +huge, yawning space between himself and the laboring horse the woman +rode. + +Riding with all his muscles taut as bowstrings, and a terrible, +constricting pressure across his chest—so mighty were the savage +passions that rioted within him—Taylor reached the foot of the long +slope that led to the big house, and sent Spotted Tail tearing upward +with rapid, desperate leaps. + + * * * * * + +When Carrington reached the big house soon after he had unknowingly +passed Marion Harlan and Parsons on the river trail, he was in a sullen, +impatient mood. + +For no word concerning Keats’s movements had reached Dawes, and +Carrington was afflicted with a gloomy presentiment that something had +happened to the man—that he had not been able to locate Taylor, or that +he had found him and Taylor had succeeded in escaping him. + +Carrington did not go at once into the house, for captive though she +was, and completely within his power, he did not want the girl to see +him in his present mood. Lighting a cigar, and chewing it viciously, he +walked to the stable. There, standing in the shadow of the building, he +came upon the guard Martha had routed. He spoke sharply to the man, +asking him why he was not inside guarding the “nigger.” + +The man brazenly announced that Martha had escaped him, omitting certain +details and substituting others from his imagination. + +“If she hadn’t been a woman, now,” added the man in self-extenuation. + +Carrington laughed lowly. “We didn’t need _her_, anyway,” he said, and +the other laughed with him. + +The laugh restored Carrington’s good-nature, and he left the man and +went into the front room of the house. Had he paused on the porch to +listen, or had he glanced toward the big slope that dropped to the +basin, he would not have entered the house just then. And he _would_ +have paused on the porch had it not been that the intensity of his +desires drove him to concentrate all his senses upon Marion. + +He crossed the porch and entered the room, and then halted, staring +downward with startled eyes at the body of the guard huddled on the +floor, a thin stream of blood staining the carpet beneath his head. + +Cursing, Carrington stepped into the other room—the room in which he +had fought with Taylor—the room in which he had left Marion Harlan +bound and sitting on a chair. The lamp on the shelf was still burning, +and in its light Carrington saw the rope he had used to bind the girl’s +hands. + +A bitter rage seized him as he looked at the rope, and he threw it from +him, cursing. In an instant he was outside the house and had leaped upon +his horse. He headed the animal toward the long slope leading to the +Arrow trail, for he suspected the girl would go straight back there, +despite any conviction she might have of Taylor’s guilt—for there she +would find Parsons, who would give her what comfort he could. Or she +might stop at the Mullarky cabin. Certainly she would not go to Dawes, +for she must know that _he_ ruled Dawes—Parsons must have told her +that—and that if she went to Dawes, she would be merely postponing her +surrender to him. + +He had plenty of time, even if she were in Dawes, he meditated as he +sent his horse over the crest of the slope, for there were no trains out +of the town during the night, and if she were not at the Arrow or +Mullarky’s, he was sure to catch her later. + +He was half-way down the slope, his horse making slow work of threading +its way through the gnarled chaparral growth, when, looking downward, he +saw another horse leaping up the slope toward him. + +In the glare of the moon that was behind Carrington, he could see horse +and rider distinctly, and he jerked his own horse to a halt, cursing +horribly. For the horse that was leaping toward him like a black demon +out of the night was Spotted Tail. And Spotted Tail’s rider was Taylor. +Carrington could see the man’s face, with the terrible passion that +distorted it, and Carrington wheeled his horse, making frenzied efforts +to escape up the slope. + +Carrington was not more than a hundred feet from the big black horse and +its indomitable rider when he wheeled his own animal, and he had not +traveled more than a few feet when he realized that Spotted Tail was +gaining rapidly. + +Cursing again, though his face was ghastly with the fear that had seized +him, Carrington slipped from his horse, and, running around so that the +animal was between him and Taylor, he drew a heavy pistol from a +hip-pocket. And when the oncoming horse and rider were within +twenty-five or thirty feet of him, Carrington took deliberate aim and +fired. + +He grinned vindictively as he saw Taylor reel in the saddle, and he +fired again, and saw Taylor drop to the ground beside Spotted Tail. + +Carrington could not tell whether his second shot had struck Taylor, and +before he could shoot again, Taylor dove headlong toward a jagged rock +that thrust a bulging shoulder upward. Carrington threw a snapshot at +him as he leaped, but again he could not have told whether the bullet +had gone home. + +Keeping the horse between himself and the rock behind which Taylor had +thrown himself, Carrington leaped behind another that stood near the +edge of the chaparral clump through which he had been riding when he had +seen Taylor coming up the slope. Seeming to sense their danger, both +horses slowly moved off out of the line of fire and proceeded +unconcernedly to browse the clumps of grass that dotted the side of the +slope. + +And now began a long, strained silence. Carrington could see Taylor’s +rock, but it was at the edge of the chaparral, and Taylor might easily +slip into the chaparral and begin a circling movement that would bring +him behind Carrington. The thought brought a damp sweat out upon +Carrington’s forehead, and he began to cast fearing glances toward the +chaparral at his side. He watched it long, and the longer he watched, +the greater grew his fear. And at last, at the end of half an hour, the +fear grew to a conviction that Taylor was stalking him in the chaparral. +No longer able to endure the suspense, Carrington left the shelter of +his rock and began to work his way around the edge of the chaparral +clump. + +Taylor had felt the heat and the shock of Carrington’s first bullet, and +he knew it had gone into his left arm. The second bullet had missed him +cleanly, and he landed behind the rock, with all his senses alert, +paying no attention to his wound. + +He had recognized Carrington, and with the cold calm that comes with +implacable determination, Taylor instantly began to take an inventory of +the hazards and the advantages of his position. And after his +examination was concluded, he dropped to his hands and knees and began +to work his way into the chaparral. + +He moved cautiously, for he knew that should he disturb the rank growth +he would disclose his whereabouts to Carrington, should the latter have +gained a vantageous point from where he could watch the thicket for just +such signs of Taylor’s presence. + +But Taylor made no such signs; he had not spent the greater part of his +life in the open to be outdone in this grim strategy by an eastern man. +He grinned wickedly at the thought. + +He suspected that Carrington might try the very trick he himself was +trying, and that thought made him wary. + +Working his way into the thicket, he at last reached a point near its +center, upon a slight mound surrounded by stunt oak and quivering aspen. +There, concealed and alert, he waited for Carrington to show himself. + +Carrington, though, did not betray his presence in the thicket. For +Carrington was not in the thicket when Taylor reached its center. +Carrington had started into the thicket, but he had not proceeded very +far when he began to be afflicted with a dread premonition of Taylor’s +presence somewhere in the vicinity. + +A clammy sweat broke out on the big man; a panic of fear seized him, and +he began to creep backward, out of the thicket. And by the time Taylor +reached his vantagepoint, Carrington was crouching at the thicket’s +edge, near the rock where he had been concealed, oppressed with a +conviction that Taylor was working his way toward him through the +thicket. + +The big man waited, his nerves taut, his muscles quivering and cringing +at the thought that any instant a bullet sent at him by Taylor might +strike him. For he knew that Taylor had come for him; he was now +convinced that Marion Harlan _had_ gone to the Arrow, that she had told +Taylor what had happened to her, and that Taylor had come straight to +the big house to punish him for his misdeeds. + +And Carrington had a dread of the sort of punishment Taylor had dealt +him upon a former occasion, and he wanted no more of it. That was why he +had used his pistol instantly upon recognizing Taylor. He wished, now, +that he had not been so hasty; for he had taken the initiative, and +Taylor would not scruple to imitate him. + +In fact, he was so certain that at that moment Taylor was creeping upon +him from some point with the fury of murder in his heart, that he got to +his feet and, looking over the top of the rock, searched with wild eyes +for his horse. And when he saw the animal not more than twenty or thirty +feet from him, he could not longer resist the panic that had seized him. +Crouching, he ran for several yards on his hands and feet and then, +nearing his horse, he stood upright and ran for it. + +As he ran he cringed, for he expected a pistol-shot to greet his +appearance at the side of his horse. But no report came, and he reached +the horse, threw himself into the saddle and raced the animal down the +slope. + +He was conscious of a pulse of elation, for he thought he had eluded +Taylor, but just as his horse struck the edge of the big level +Carrington looked back, to see Spotted Tail slipping down the slope with +a smooth swiftness that terrified the big man. + +He turned then and began to ride as he had never ridden before. The +animal under him was strong, courageous, and speedy; but Carrington knew +he would have need of all those sterling qualities if he hoped to escape +the iron-hearted horse Taylor bestrode. And so Carrington leaned +forward, trying to lighten the load, slapping the beast’s neck with the +palm of his hand, urging him with his voice—coaxing him to the best +endeavors. For Carrington knew that somewhere in the vast expanse of +grass land and spread before him Keats and his men must be. And his only +hope lay in reaching them before the avenger, astride the big horse that +was speeding on his trail like a black thunderbolt, could bring his +rider within pistol-shot distance of him. + +But Carrington had not gone more than half a mile when he realized that +the race was to be a short one. Twice after leaving the edge of the +slope Carrington looked back. The first time Spotted Tail seemed to be +far away; and the next time the big, black animal was so close that +Carrington cried out hoarsely. + +And then as Carrington felt the distance being shortened—as he felt the +presence of the black horse almost at the withers of his own +animal—heard the breathing of the big pursuing beast, he knew that he +was not to be shot. + +Before he could swing his own horse to escape, the big, black horse was +beside his own, and one of Taylor’s arms shot out, the fingers gripping +the collar of the big man’s coat. Then with a vicious pull, swinging the +black horse wide, Taylor jerked Carrington out of the saddle, so that he +fell sidewise into the deep grass—while the black horse, eager for a +run, and not immediately responding to Taylor’s pull on the reins, ran +some feet before he halted and wheeled. + +And when he did finally face toward the spot where the big man had been +jerked from the saddle, it was to face a succession of flame-streaks +that shot from the spot where Carrington stood trying his best to send +into Taylor a bullet that would put an end to the horrible presentiment +of death that now filled the big man’s heart. + +He emptied his pistol and saw the black horse coming steadily toward +him, its rider erect in the saddle, seeming not to heed the savagely +barking weapon. And when the gun was empty, Carrington threw it from him +and began to run. He ran, and with grim mockery, Taylor followed him a +little distance—followed him until Carrington, exhausted, his breath +coming in great coughing gasps, could run no farther. And then Taylor +brought the big black to a halt near him, slid easily out of the saddle, +and stepped forward to look into Carrington’s face, his own stiff and +set, his eyes gleaming with a passion that made the other man groan +hopelessly. + +“Now, you miserable whelp!” said Taylor. + +He lunged forward and the bodies of the two men made a swaying blot out +of which came the sounds of blows, bitter and savage. + + * * * * * + +The little broken-nosed man laughed a little in recollection of +Carrington’s words about Martha. The big man had let him off easily, and +he was properly grateful. And yet his gratitude did not prevent him from +betraying curiosity; and he watched the front of the house for +Carrington’s reappearance, wondering what he meant to do with the white +girl, now that he had her. + +Still watching the front porch, he saw Carrington run for his horse, +leap upon it and sink down the side of the slope. + +The little man then ran to the front of the house and, concealed among +the trees, watched the duel that was waged in the moonlight. He saw +Carrington break from the thicket, mount his horse and race out into the +plain; he saw Taylor—for he had recognized him—send Spotted Tail after +Carrington. But he did not see the finish of the race, nor did he see +what followed. But some minutes later he saw a big, black horse tearing +toward him from the spot where the race had ended. He muttered +gutturally and profanely, leaped on his horse and sent it plunging down +the trail toward Dawes, his face ghastly with fear. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV—THE WILL OF THE MOB + + +Parsons had always been an unemotional man. His own character being +immune to the little twinging impulses of humanness that grow to +generous and unselfish deeds, he had looked with derision upon all +persons who betrayed concern for their fellow-men. And so Parsons had +lived apart from his fellows; he had watched them from across the gulf +of disinterest, where emotion was foreign. + +But tonight Parsons was learning what emotion is. Not from others, but +from himself. Emotions—thousands of them seethed in his brain and +heart. He was in an advanced state of hysteria when he rode down the +Dawes trail with Marion Harlan. For there was the huge, implacable, +ruthless, and murderous Carrington, whom he had just passed on the +trail, to menace his very life—and he knew that just as soon as +Carrington returned to the big house and found Marion gone and the guard +dead, he would ride back to Dawes, seeking vengeance. And Carrington +would know it was Parsons who had robbed him of the girl; for Carrington +would inquire, and would discover that he had ridden into town with +Marion. And when Parsons and Marion rode into Dawes fear, stark, abject, +and naked, was in the man’s soul. + +Dawes was aflame with light as the two passed down the street; and +Parsons left the girl to sit on her horse in front of a darkened store, +while he rode down the street, peering into other stores, alight and +inviting. He hardly knew what he did want. He knew, however, that there +was little time, for at any minute now Carrington might come thundering +into town on his errand of vengeance; and whatever Parsons did must be +done quickly. + +He chose the second store he came to. He thought the place was a +billiard-room until he entered and stood just inside the door blinking +at the lights; and then he knew it was a saloon, for he saw the bar, the +back-bar behind it, littered with bottles, and many tables scattered +around. More, there were perhaps a hundred men in the place—some of +them drinking; and at the sight of them all, realizing the mightiness of +their number, Parsons raised his hands aloft and screamed frenziedly: + +“Men! There’s been a crime committed tonight! At the Huggins house! +Carrington did it! He abducted my niece! I want you men to help me! +Carrington is going to kill me! And I want you to protect my niece!” + +For an instant after Parsons’ voice died in a breathless gasp, for he +blurted his story, the words coming in a stream, with hardly a pause +between them; there was an odd, strained silence. Then a man far back in +the room guffawed loudly: + +“Plumb loco. Too much forty-rod!” + +There was a half-hearted gale of laughter at the man’s taunt; and then +many men were around Parsons, ready to laugh and jeer. And while some of +the men peered at Parsons, cynically inspecting him for signs of +drunkenness, several others ran to the open door and looked out into the +street. + +“There’s somethin’ in his yappin’, boys,” stated a man who returned from +the door; “there’s a gal out here, sure enough, setting on a hoss, +waitin’.” + +There was a concerted rush outside to see the girl, and Parsons was +shoved and jostled until he, too, was forced to go out. And by the time +Parsons reached Marion’s side she had been questioned by the men. And +wrathful curses arose from the lips of men around her. + +“Didn’t I know he was that kind of a skunk!” shouted a man near Parsons. +“I knowed it as soon as he beat Taylor out of the election!” + +“I’m for stringin’ the scum up!” yelled another man. “This town can git +along without guys that go around abductin’ wimmen!” + +There were still other lurid and threatening comments. And many profane +epithets rose, burdened with menace, for Carrington. But the girl, +humiliated, weak, and trembling, did not hear all of them. She saw other +men emerging from doorways—all of them running toward her to join those +who had come out of the saloon. And then she saw a woman coming toward +her, the men making a pathway for her—a motherly looking woman who, +when she came near the girl, smiled up at her sympathetically and +reached up her hands to help the girl out of the saddle. + +Marion slipped down, and the woman’s arms went around her. And with many +grimly pitying glances from the men in the crowd about her, which parted +to permit her to pass, she was led into a private dwelling at a little +distance down the street, into a cozy room where there were signs of +decency and refinement. The woman placed the girl in a chair, and stood +beside her, smoothing her hair and talking to her in low, comforting +tones; while outside a clamor rose and a confused mutter of many voices +out of which she began to catch sentences, such as: + +“Let’s fan it to the big house an’ git him!” + +“There’s too many crooks in this town—let’s run ’em out!” + +“What in hell did he come here for?” + +“Judge Littlefield is just as bad—he cheated Taylor out of the +election!” “That’s right,” answered another voice. “Taylor’s our man!” + +“They are all wrought up over this, my dear,” said the woman. “For a +long time there has been an undercurrent of dissatisfaction over the way +they cheated Quinton Taylor out of the mayoralty. I don’t think it was a +bit fair. And,” she continued, “there are other things. They have found +out that Carrington is behind a scheme to steal the water rights from +the town—something he did to the board of directors of the irrigation +company, I believe. And he has had his councilmen pass laws to widen +some streets and open new ones. And the well-informed call it a steal, +too. Mr. Norton has stirred up a lot of sentiment against Carrington and +Danforth, and all the rest of them. Secretly, that is. And there is that +murder charge against Quinton Taylor,” went on the woman. “That is +preposterous! Taylor was the best friend Larry Harlan ever had!” + +But the girl turned her head, and her lips quivered, for the mention of +Taylor had brought back to her the poignant sense of loss that she had +felt when she had learned of the charge against Taylor. She bowed her +head and wept silently, the woman trying again to comfort her, while +outside the noise and tumult grew in volume—threatening violence. + +By the time Marion Harlan had dropped into the chair in the room of the +house into which the woman had taken her, the crowd that had collected +in the street was packed and jammed against the buildings on each side +of it. + +Those who had come late demanded to be told what had happened; and some +men lifted Parsons to the back of his horse, and with their hands on his +legs, bracing him, Parsons repeated the story of what had occurred. +More—yielding to the frenzy that had now taken possession of his +senses, he told of Carrington’s plotting against the town; of the man’s +determination to loot and steal everything he could get his hands on. He +told them of his own culpability; he assured them he had been as guilty +as Carrington and Danforth—who was a mere tool, though as unscrupulous +as Carrington. He gave them an account of Carrington’s stewardship of +his own money; and he related the story of Carrington’s friendship with +the governor, connecting Carrington’s trip to the capital with the +stealing of the election from Taylor. + +It is the psychology of the mob that it responds in some measure to the +frenzy of the man who agitates it. So it was with the great crowd that +now swarmed the wide street of Dawes. Partisan feeling—all differences +of opinion that in other times would have barred concerted action—was +swept away by the fervent appeal Parsons made, and by his complete and +scathing revelation of the iniquitous scheme to rob the town. + +A great sigh arose as Parsons finished and was drawn down, his hat off, +his hair ruffled, his eyes gleaming with the strength of the terrible +frenzy he was laboring under. The crowd muttered; voices rose sharply; +there was an impatient movement; a concerted stiffening of bodies and a +long pause, as of preparation. + +Aroused, seething with passion, with a vindictive desire for action, +swift and ruthless, the crowd waited—waited for a leader. And while the +pause and the mutterings continued, the leader came. + +It was the big, grim-faced Bothwell, at the head of the Arrow outfit. +With his horse in a dead run, the other horses of the outfit crowding +him close, Bothwell brought his horse to a sliding halt at the edge of +the crowd. + +Bothwell’s eyes were ablaze with the light of battle; and he stood in +his stirrups, looming high above the heads of the men around him, and +shouted: + +“Where’s my boss—Squint Taylor?” And before anyone could +answer—“Where’s that damned coyote Carrington? Where’s Danforth? What’s +wrong here?” + +It was Parsons who answered him. Parsons, again clambering into the +saddle from which he had spoken, now shrieking shrilly: + +“It’s Carrington’s work! He abducted Marion Harlan, my niece. He’s a +scoundrel and a thief, and he is trying to ruin this town!” + +There was a short silence as Parsons slid again to the ground, and then +the man growled profanely: + +“Let’s run the whole bunch out of town! Start somethin’, Bothwell!” + +Bothwell laughed, a booming bellow of grim mirth that stirred the crowd +to movement. “We’ve been startin’ somethin’! This outfit is out for a +clean-up! There’s been too much sneakin’ an’ murderin’; an’ too many +fake warrants flyin’ around, with a bunch like them Keats guys sent out +to kill innocent men. Damn their hides! Let’s get ’em—all of ’em!” + +He flung his horse around and leaped it between the other horses of the +Arrow outfit, sending it straight to the doors of the city hall. Closing +in behind him, the other members of the Arrow outfit followed; and +behind them the crowd, now able to center its passion upon something +definite, rushed forward—a yelling, muttering, turbulent mass of men +intent to destroy the things which the common conscience loathes. + +It seemed a lashing sea of retribution to Danforth and Judge +Littlefield, who were in the mayor’s office, a little group of their +political adherents around them. At the first sign of a disturbance, +Danforth had attempted to gather his official forces with the intention +of preserving order. But only these few had responded, and they, +white-faced, feeling their utter impotence, were standing in the room, +terror-stricken, when Bothwell and the men of the Arrow outfit, with the +crowd yelling behind them, entered the door of the office. + + * * * * * + +The little, broken-nosed man had done well to leave the vicinity of the +big house before Taylor arrived there. For when Taylor emerged from the +front room, in which the light still burned, his soul was still in the +grip of a lust to slay. + +He was breathing fast when he emerged from the house, for what he saw +there had puzzled him—the guard lying on the floor and Marion gone—and +he stood for an instant on the porch, scanning the clearing and the +woods around the house with blazing eyes, his guns in hand. + +The silence around the house was deep and solemn now, and over Taylor +stole a conviction that Carrington had sent Marion to Dawes in charge of +some of his men; having divined that he would come for her. But Taylor +did not act upon the conviction instantly. He ran to the stable, stormed +through it—and the other buildings in the cluster around the +ranchhouse; and finding no trace of men or girl, he at last leaped on +Spotted Tail and sent him thundering over the trail toward Dawes. + +When he arrived in town a swaying, shouting, shooting mob jammed the +streets. He brought his horse to a halt on the edge of the crowd that +packed the street in front of the city hall, and demanded to know what +was wrong. + +The man shouted at him: + +“Hell’s to pay! Carrington abducted Marion Harlan, an’ that little +guy—Parsons—rescued her. An’ Parsons made a speech, tellin’ folks what +Carrington an’ Danforth an’ all the rest of the sneakin’ coyotes have +done, an’ we’re runnin’ the scum out of town!” And then, before Taylor +could ask about the girl, the man raised his voice to a shrill yell: + +“It’s Squint Taylor, boys! Squint Taylor! Stand back an’ let ol’ Squint +take a hand in this here deal!” + +There was a wild, concerted screech of joy. It rose like the shrieking +of a gale; it broke against the buildings that fringed the street; it +echoed and reechoed with terrific resonance back and forth over the +heads of the men in the crowd. It penetrated into the cozy room of a +private dwelling, where sat a girl who started at the sound and sat +erect, her face paling, her eyes, glowing with a light that made the +motherly looking woman say to her, softly: + +“Ah, then you _do_ believe in him, my dear!” + + * * * * * + +It was when the noise and the tumult had subsided that Taylor went to +her. For he had been told where he might find her by men who smiled +sympathetically at his back as he walked down the street toward the +private dwelling. + +She was at the door as soon as he, for she had been watching from one of +the front windows, and had seen him come toward the house. + +And when the motherly looking woman saw them in each other’s arms, the +moon and the light from within the house revealing them to her, and to +the men in the crowd who watched from the street, she smiled gently. +What the two said to each other will never be known, for their words +were drowned in the cheer that rose from hoarse-voiced men who knew that +words are sometimes futile and unnecessary. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV—TRIUMPH AT LAST + + +A month later, Taylor walked to the front door of the Arrow ranchhouse +and stood on the threshold looking out over the great sweep of +green-brown plain that reached eastward to Dawes. + +A change had come over Taylor. His eyes had a gentler light in them—as +though they had seen things that had taken the edge off his sterner +side; and there was an atmosphere about him that created the impression +that his thoughts were at this moment far from violence. + +“Mr. Taylor!” said a voice behind him—from the front room. There had +been an undoubted accent on the “Mr.” And the voice was one that Taylor +knew well; the sound of it deepened the gentle gleam in his eyes. + +“Mrs. Taylor,” he answered, imparting to the “Mrs.” exactly the emphasis +the voice had placed on the other. + +There was a laugh behind him, and then the voice again, slightly +reproachful: “Oh, that sounds so _awfully_ formal, Squint!” + +“Well,” he said, “you started it.” + +“I like ‘Squint’ better,” said the voice. + +“I’m hoping you keep on liking Squint all the days of your life,” he +returned. + +“I was speaking of names,” declared the voice. + +“Doan’ yo’ let her fool yo’, Mr. Squint!” came another voice, “fo’ she +think a heap mo’ of you than she think of yo’ name!” + +“Martha!” said the first voice in laughing reproof, “I vow I shall send +you away some day!” + +And then there was a clumping step on the floor, and Martha’s voice +reached the door as she went out of the house through the kitchen: + +“I’s goin’ to the bunkhouse to expostulate wif that lazy Bud Hemmingway. +He tole me this mawnin’ he’s gwine feed them hawgs—an’ he ain’t done +it!” + +And then Mrs. Taylor appeared at the door and placed an arm around her +husband’s neck, drawing his head over to her and kissing him. + +She looked much like the Marion Harlan who had left the Arrow on a night +about a month before, though there was a more eloquent light in her +eyes, and a tenderness had come over her that made her whole being +radiate. + +“Don’t you think you had better get ready to go to Dawes, dear?” she +suggested. + +“I like that better than ‘Squint’ even,” he grinned. + +For a long time they stood in the doorway very close together. And then +Mrs. Taylor looked up with grave eyes at her husband. + +“Won’t you please let me look at _all_ of father’s note to you, Squint?” +she asked. + +“That can’t be done,” he grinned at her. “For,” he added, “that day +after I let you read part of it I burnt it. It’s gone—like a lot of +other things that are not needed now!” + +“But what did it say—that part that you wouldn’t let me read?” she +insisted. + +“It said,” he quoted, “‘I want you to marry her, Squint.’ And I have +done so—haven’t I?” + +“Was that _all_?” she persisted. + +“I’d call that plenty!” he laughed. + +“Well,” she sighed, “I suppose that will have to be sufficient. But get +ready, dear; they will be waiting for you!” She left him and went into a +room, from where she called back to him: “It won’t take me long to +dress.” And then, after an interval: “Where do you suppose Uncle Elam +went?” + +He scowled out of the doorway; then turned and smiled. “He didn’t say. +And he lost no time saying farewell to Dawes, once he got his hands on +the money Carrington left.” Taylor’s smile became a laugh, low and full +of amusement. + +Shortly Mrs. Taylor appeared, attired in a neat riding-habit, and Taylor +donned coat and hat, and they went arm in arm to the corral gate, where +their horses were standing, having been roped, saddled, and bridled by +the “lazy” Bud Hemmingway, who stood outside the bunkhouse grinning at +them. + +“Well, good luck!” Bud called after them as they rode toward Dawes. + +Lingering much on the way, and stopping at the Mullarky cabin, they +finally reached the edge of town and were met by Neil Norton, who +grinned widely when he greeted them. + +Norton waved a hand at Dawes. As in another time, Dawes was arrayed in +holiday attire, swathed in a riot of color—starry bunting, flags, and +streamers, with hundreds of Japanese lanterns suspended festoonlike +across the streets. And now, as Taylor and the blushing, moist-eyed +woman at his side rode down the street, a band on a platform near the +station burst into music, its brazen-tongued instruments drowning the +sound of cheering. + +“We got that from Lazette,” grinned Norton. “We had to have _some_ +noise! As I told you the other day,” he went on, speaking loudly, so +that Taylor could hear him above the tumult, “it is all fixed up. Judge +Littlefield stayed on the job here, because he promised to be good. He +hadn’t really done anything, you know. And after we made Danforth and +the five councilmen resign that night, and saw them aboard the +east-bound the next morning, we made Littlefield wire the governor about +what had happened. Littlefield went to the capital shortly afterward and +told the governor some things that astonished him. And the governor +appointed you to fill Danforth’s unexpired term. But, of course, that +was only an easy way for the governor to surrender. So everything is +lovely.” + +Norton paused, out of breath. + +And Taylor smiled at his wife. “Yes,” he said, as he took her arm, “this +is a mighty good little old world—if you treat it right.” + +“And if you stay faithful,” added the moist-eyed woman. + +“And if you fall in love,” supplemented Taylor. + +“And when the people of a town want to honor you,” added Norton +significantly. + +And then, arm in arm, followed by Norton, Taylor and his wife rode +forward, their horses close together, toward the great crowd of people +that jammed the street around the band-stand, their voices now raised +above the music that blared forth from the brazen instruments. + + + + +EDGAR RICE BURROUGH’S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. + +TARZAN THE UNTAMED + + Tells of Tarzan’s return to the life of the ape-man in his search + for vengeance on those who took from him his wife and home. + +JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN + + Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right + to ape kingship. + +A PRINCESS OF MARS + + Forty-three million miles from the earth—a succession of the + weirdest and most astounding adventures in fiction. John Carter, + American, finds himself on the planet Mars, battling for a beautiful + woman, with the Green Men of Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet + high, mounted on horses like dragons. + +THE GODS OF MARS + + Continuing John Carter’s adventures on the Planet Mars, in which he + does battle against the ferocious “plant men,” creatures whose + mighty tails swished their victims to instant death, and defies + Issus, the terrible Goddess of Death, whom all Mars worships and + reveres. + +THE WARLORD OF MARS + + Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, Tars + Tarkas, Tardos Mors and others. There is a happy ending to the story + in the union of the Warlord, the title conferred upon John Carter, + with Dejah Thoris. + +THUVIA, MAID OF MARS + + The fourth volume of the series. The story centers around the + adventures of Carthoris, the son of John Carter and Thuvia, daughter + of a Martian Emperor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK. + + + + +ZANE GREY’S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. + + THE MAN OF THE FOREST + THE DESERT OF WHEAT + THE U. P. TRAIL + WILDFIRE + THE BORDER LEGION + THE RAINBOW TRAIL + THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE + THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS + THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN + THE LONE STAR RANGER + DESERT GOLD + BETTY ZANE + +LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS + + The life story of “Buffalo Bill” by his sister Helen Cody Wetmore, + with Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey. + +ZANE GREY’S BOOKS FOR BOYS + + KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE + THE YOUNG LION HUNTER + THE YOUNG FORESTER + THE YOUNG PITCHER + THE SHORT STOP + THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER BASEBALL STORIES + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD’S STORIES OF ADVENTURE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. + +THE RIVER’S END + + A story of the Royal Mounted Police. + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + + Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland. + +NOMADS OF THE NORTH + + The story of a bear-cub and a dog. + +KAZAN + + The tale of a “quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky” torn + between the call of the human and his wild mate. + +BAREE, SON OF KAZAN + + The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part he + played in the lives of a man and a woman. + +THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM + + The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his + battle with Captain Plum. + +THE DANGER TRAIL + + A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North. + +THE HUNTED WOMAN + + A tale of a great fight in the “valley of gold” for a woman. + +THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH + + The story of Fort o’ God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness is + blended with the courtly atmosphere of France. + +THE GRIZZLY KING + + The story of Thor, the big grizzly. + +ISOBEL + + A love story of the Far North. + +THE WOLF HUNTERS + + A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness. + +THE GOLD HUNTERS + + The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds. + +THE COURAGE OF MARGE O’DOONE + + Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women. + +BACK TO GOD’S COUNTRY + + A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made + from this book. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +FLORENCE L. BARCLAY’S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. + +THE WHITE LADIES OF WORCESTER + + A novel of the 12th Century. The heroine, believing she had lost her + lover, enters a convent. He returns, and interesting developments + follow. + +THE UPAS TREE + + A love story of rare charm. It deals with a successful author and + his wife. + +THROUGH THE POSTERN GATE + + The story of a seven day courtship, in which the discrepancy in ages + vanished into insignificance before the convincing demonstration of + abiding love. + +THE ROSARY + + The story of a young artist who is reputed to love beauty above all + else in the world, but who, when blinded through an accident, gains + life’s greatest happiness. A rare story of the great passion of two + real people superbly capable of love, its sacrifices and its + exceeding reward. + +THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE + + The lovely young Lady Ingleby, recently widowed by the death of a + husband who never understood her, meets a fine, clean young chap who + is ignorant of her title and they fall deeply in love with each + other. When he learns her real identity a situation of singular + power is developed. + +THE BROKEN HALO + + The story of a young man whose religious belief was shattered in + childhood and restored to him by the little white lady, many years + older than himself, to whom he is passionately devoted. + +THE FOLLOWING OF THE STAR + + The story of a young missionary, who, about to start for Africa, + marries wealthy Diana Rivers, in order to help her fulfill the + conditions of her uncle’s will, and how they finally come to love + each other and are reunited after experiences that soften and + purify. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +ETHEL M. DELL’S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. + +THE LAMP IN THE DESERT + + The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and tells of the + lamp of love that continues to shine through all sorts of + tribulations to final happiness. + +GREATHEART + + The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals a noble soul. + +THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE + + A hero who worked to win even when there was only “a hundredth + chance.” + +THE SWINDLER + + The story of a “bad man’s” soul revealed by a woman’s faith. + +THE TIDAL WAVE + + Tales of love and of women who learned to know the true from the + false. + +THE SAFETY CURTAIN + + A very vivid love story of India. The volume also contains four + other long stories of equal interest. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +“STORM COUNTRY” BOOKS BY GRACE MILLER WHITE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. + +JUDY OF ROGUES’ HARBOR + + Judy’s untutored ideas of God, her love of wild things, her faith in + life are quite as inspiring as those of Tess. Her faith and + sincerity catch at your heart strings. This book has all of the + mystery and tense action of the other Storm Country books. + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY + + It was as Tess, beautiful, wild, impetuous, that Mary Pickford made + her reputation as a motion picture actress. How love acts upon a + temperament such as hers—a temperament that makes a woman an angel + or an outcast, according to the character of the man she loves—is + the theme of the story. + +THE SECRET OF THE STORM COUNTRY + + The sequel to “Tess of the Storm Country,” with the same wild + background, with its half-gypsy life of the squatters—tempestuous, + passionate, brooding. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/37204-0.zip b/37204-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a6b036 --- /dev/null +++ b/37204-0.zip diff --git a/37204-8.txt b/37204-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ee74b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/37204-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9424 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ranchman, by Charles Alden Seltzer + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ranchman + +Author: Charles Alden Seltzer + +Illustrator: P. V. E. Ivory + +Release Date: August 25, 2011 [EBook #37204] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RANCHMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: CARRINGTON LAUGHED JEERINGLY. (Page 268)] + + + + +THE RANCHMAN + +BY CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER + +AUTHOR OF THE BOSS OF THE LAZY Y, FIREBRAND TREVISON, THE RANGE BOSS, +ETC. + +FRONTISPIECE BY P. V. E. IVORY NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS + +Made in the United States of America + + + + +Copyright A. C. McClurg & Co. 1919 + +Published September, 1919 + +_Copyrighted in Great Britain_ + + + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I Concerning Dawes 1 + II Slick Duds 14 + III The Serpent Trail 20 + IV The Hold-Up 26 + V The Unexpected 36 + VI A Man Makes Plans 51 + VII The Shadow of the Past 59 + VIII Concerning "Squint" 66 + IX A Man Lies 75 + X The Frame-Up 86 + XI "No Fun Fooling Her" 91 + XII Lifting the Mask 106 + XIII The Shadow of Trouble 113 + XIV The Face of a Fighter 128 + XV Gloom--and Plans 142 + XVI A Man Becomes a Brute 153 + XVII The Wrong Ankle 172 + XVIII The Beast Again 186 + XIX The Ambush 193 + XX A Fight to a Finish 200 + XXI A Man Faces Death 212 + XXII Looking for Trouble 218 + XXIII A World-Old Longing 225 + XXIV A Death Warrant 232 + XXV Keats Looks for "Squint" 238 + XXVI Keats Finds "Squint" 245 + XXVII Besieged 254 + XXXIII The Fugitive 259 + XXIX The Captive 264 + XXX Parsons Has Human Instincts 270 + XXXI A Rescue 277 + XXXII Taylor Becomes Riled 284 + XXXIII Retribution 290 + XXXIV The Will of the Mob 304 + XXXV Triumph at Last 315 + + + + +THE RANCHMAN + + + + +CHAPTER ICONCERNING DAWES + + +The air in the Pullman was hot and, despite the mechanical +contrivances built into the coach to prevent such a contingency, the +dust from the right-of-way persisted in filtering through crevices. + +Even the electric fans futilely combated the heat; their droning hum +bespoke terrific revolutions which did not materially lessen the +discomfort of the occupants of the coach; and the dry, dead dust of +the desert, the glare of a white-hot sun, the continuing panorama of +waste land, rolling past the car windows, afforded not one cool vista +to assuage the torture of travel. + +For hours after leaving Kansas City, several of the passengers had +diligently gazed out of the windows. But when they had passed the vast +grass plains and had entered the desert, where their eyes met nothing +but endless stretches of feathery alkali dust, beds of dead lava, and +clumps of cacti with thorny spire and spatula blade defiantly upthrust +as though in mockery of all lifethe passengers drew the shades and +settled down in their seats to endure the discomfort of it all. + +A _blas_ tourist forward reclined in one seat and rested his legs on +another. From under the peak of a cap pulled well down over his eyes +he smiled cynically at his fellow-passengers, noting the various +manifestations of their discomfort. The tourist was a transcontinental +traveler of note and he had few expectations. It amused him to watch +those who had. + +A girl of about twenty, seated midway in the coach to the left of the +tourist, had been an intent watcher of the desert. With the covert eye +of the tourist upon her she stiffened, stared sharply out of the +window, then drew back, shuddering, a queer pallor on her face. + +Shes seen something unpleasant, mused the tourist. A heap of +bleached boneswhich would be the skeleton of a steer; or a +rattlesnakeor most anything. Shes got nerves. + +_One_ passenger in the car had no nervesof that the tourist was +convinced. The tourist had observed him closely, and the tourist was a +judge of men. The nerveless one was a young man who sat in a rear seat +staring intently out into the inferno of heat and sand, apparently +absorbed in his thoughts and unaware of any physical discomfort. + +Youngabout twenty-seven or twenty-eightmaybe thirty, mused the +tourist; but an old-timer in this country. I wised up to him when he +got aboard at Kansas City. Been a miner in his timeor a cow-puncher. +Id hate to cross him. + +Among the other passengers were two who attracted the attention of the +tourist. They occupied the seat in front of the young man. + +One of the two, who sat nearest the window, was not much older than +the young man occupying the seat behind him. The tourist guessed his +age to be around thirty-five or thirty-six. He was big, almost +massive, and had lived wellas the slightly corpulent stomach +revealed. Despite that, however, he was in good physical condition, +for his cheeks glowed with good healthy color under the blue-black +sheen of his fresh-shaved beard; there was a snapping twinkle in his +black eyes, which were penetrating and steady; and there was a quiet +confidence in his manner which told that he knew and appreciated +himself. He was handsome in a heavy, sensuous fashion, and his +coal-black hair, close-cropped and wavy, gave him an appearance of +virility and importance that demanded a second look. The man seated +beside him was undersized and ordinary-looking, with straight, +iron-gray hair and a look of having taken orders all his life. The +tourist set his age at fifty-five. + +The girl was of the type that the tourist admired. He had seen her +kind in the far corners of the world, on the thronged streets of +cosmopolitan cities, in isolated sections of the worldthe +self-reliant, quietly confident American girl whose +straight-in-the-eye glance always made a man feel impelled to +respectfully remove his hat. + +She was not beautiful, but she was undeniably good-looking. She was +almost tall, and the ease and grace of her movements sufficed to +convey to the tourist some conception of the symmetrical lines of her +figure. If her features had been more regular, the girl would have +been plain; but there was a slight uptilt to her nose that hinted of +piquancy, denied by the quiet, steady eyes. + +A brown mass of hair, which she had twisted into bulging coils and +glistening waves, made the tourist wonder over her taste in that +feminine art. + +She knows what becomes her, he decided. + +He knew the two men seated in front of the young man were traveling +with her, for he had seen them together, with the older man patting +her shoulder affectionately. But often she left them with their talk, +which did not seem to interest her, while she withdrew to a distant +seat to read or to gaze out of the window. + +She had not seemed to notice either the man of colorless personality +or the young man who occupied the seat behind her friends. If she had +glanced at them at all it was with that impersonal interest one feels +in the average traveler one meets anywhere. + +But long agowhich, to be strictly accurate, was when he had entered +the coach at Kansas CityQuinton Taylor had been interested in her. He +was content, though, to conceal that interest, and not once when she +chanced to look toward him did she catch him looking at her. + +Taylor knew he was no man to excite the interest of women, not even +when he looked his best. And he knew that in his present raiment he +did not look his best. He was highly uncomfortable. + +For one thing, the white, starched collar he wore irritated him, +choked him, reddening his face and bulging his eyes. The starched +shirt had a pernicious habit of tightly sticking to him, the seams +chafing his skin. + +The ready-made suit he had bought at Kansas City was too small, and he +could feel his shoulders bulging through the arms of the coat, while +the trousersat the hips and the kneeswere stretched until he feared +the cloth would not stand the strain. + +The shoes were tight, and the derby hathe glowered humorously at it +in the rack above his head and gazed longingly at the suitcase at his +feet, into which he had crammed the clothing he had discarded and +which he had replaced at the suggestion of his banker in Kansas City. +Cowboy rigging was not uncommon to Kansas City, the banker had told +him, but stillwell, if a man was wealthy, and wished to make an +impression, it might be wise to make the change. + +Not in years had Taylor worn civilized clothing, and he was fully +determined that before reaching his home town he would resume the +clothing to which he was accustomedand throw the new duds out of a +window. He reddened over an imaginary picture of himself descending +from the train in his newly acquired rigging to endure the humorous +comments of his friends. Old Ben Mullarky, for instance, would think +he had gone locoand would tell him so. Yes, the new clothes were +doomed; some ragged overland specimen of the genus hobo would +probably find them or, if not, they would clutter up the right-of-way +as the sad memento of a mistake he had made during a fit of momentary +weakness. + +As a matter of fact the girl had noticed Taylor. A girl will notice +men, unconsciously. Sitting at her window even now, she was thinking +of him. + +She was not aware that she had studied him, or that she had even +glanced at him. But despite her lack of interest in him she had a +picture of him in mind, and her thoughts dwelt upon him. + +She, too, had been aware that Taylors clothes did not fit him. She +had noticed the bulging shoulders, the tight trousers, the shoes, +squeaking with newness, when once he had passed through the car to go +out upon the platform. She had noticed him screwing his neck around in +the collar; she had seen him hunch his shoulders intolerantly; she had +seen that the trousers were too short; that he looked like an awkward +farmer or homesteader abroad on a pleasure trip, and decidedly +uncomfortable in the unaccustomed attire. + +She had giggled to herself, then. For Taylor did make a ridiculous +figure. But laterwhen he had reentered the car and she had looked +fairly, though swiftly, at him as he advanced down the aisleshe had +seen something about him that had impressed her. And that was what she +was thinking about now. It was his face, she believed. It was red with +self-consciousness and embarrassment, but she had seen and noted the +strength of itthe lean, muscular jaw, the square, projecting chin, +the firm, well-controlled mouth; the steady, steel-blue eyes, the +broad forehead. It had seemed to her that he was humorously aware of +the clothes, but that he was grimly determined to brazen the thing +out. + +Her mental picture now gave her the entire view of Taylor as he had +come toward her. And she could see him in a different environment, in +cowboy regalia, on a horse, perfectly at ease. He made a heroic +figure. So real was the picture that she caught herself saying: +Clothes _do_ make the man! And then she smiled at her enthusiasm and +looked out of the window. + +Taylor had been thinking of her with the natural curiosity of the man +who knows he has no chance and is not looking for one. But she had +impressed him as resembling someone with whom he had been well +acquainted. For an hour he puzzled his brain in an endeavor to +associate hers with some face of his recollection, but elusive memory +resisted his demands on it with the result that he gave it up and +leaned back as restfully as he could with the consciousness of the +physical torture he was undergoing. + +And then he heard the younger of the two men in front of him speak to +the other: + +Well make things hum in Dawes, once we get hold of the reins. + +But there will be obstacles, Carrington. + +Sure! Obstacles! Of course. That will make the thing all the more +enjoyable. + +There was a ring in Carringtons voice that struck a chord of sudden +antagonism in Taylor, a note of cunning that acted upon Taylor +instantly, as though the man had twanged discord somewhere in his +nature. + +Dawes was Taylors home; he had extensive and varied interests there; +he had been largely responsible for Dawess growth and development; he +had fought for the town and the interests of the towns citizens +against the aggressions of the railroad company and a grasping land +company that had succeeded in clouding the titles to every foot of +land owned by Dawess citizenshis own included. + +And he had heard rumors of outside interests that were trying to gain +a foothold in Dawes. He had paid little attention to these rumors, for +he knew that capital was always trying to drive wedges that would +admit it to the golden opportunities afforded by new towns, and he had +ascribed the rumors to idle gossip, being aware that such things are +talked of by irresponsibles. + +But the words, Get hold of the reins, had a sound of craft and +plotting. And there was something in Carringtons manner and +appearance that suggested guile and smooth cunning. Seething with +interest, Taylor closed his eyes and leaned his head back upon the +cushion behind him, simulating sleep. + +He felt Carrington turn; he could feel the mans eyes on him, and he +knew that Carrington was speculating over him. + +He heard the other man whisper, though he could not catch the words. +However, he heard Carringtons answer: + +Dont be uneasyIm not spilling anything. _He_ wouldnt know the +difference if I did. A homesteader hitting town for the first time in +a year, probably. Did you notice him? Lord, what an outfit! + +He laughed discordantly, resuming in a whisper which carried to +Taylor: + +As I was saying, well make things hum. The good folks in Dawes dont +know it, but weve been framing them for quite a spellbeen feeding +them Danforth. You dont know Danforth, eh? Hes quite a hit with +these rubes. Knows how to smear the soft stuff over them. Hes what we +call a mixer back in Chicago. Been in Dawes for about a year, +working in the dark. Been going strong during the past few months. +Running for mayor nowelection is today. Itll be over by the time we +get there. Hell win, of course; he wired me it was a cinch. Cost a +lot, though, but its worth it. Well own Dawes before we get +through! + +It was with an effort that Taylor kept his eyes closed. He heard +nothing further, for the mans voice had dropped lower and Taylor +could not hear it above the roar of the train. + +Still, he had heard enough to convince him that Carrington had designs +on the future welfare of Dawes, and his muscles swelled until the +tight-fitting coat was in dire danger of bursting. + +Danforth he knew slightly. He had always disliked and distrusted the +man. He remembered Danforths public _dbut_ to the people of Dawes. +It had been on the occasion of Dawess first anniversary and some +public-spirited citizens had decided upon a celebration. They had +selected Danforth as the speaker of the day because of his +eloquencefor Danforth had seized every opportunity to publicly air +his vigorous voice, and Taylor had been compelled to acknowledge that +Danforth was a forceful and able speaker. + +Thereafter, Danforths voice often found the public ear. He was a +lawyer, and the sign he had erected over the front of the frame +building adjoining the courthouse was as magnificent as Danforth was +eloquent. + +But though Taylor had distrusted Danforth, he had found no +evidenceuntil nowthat the lawyer intended to betray his +fellow-citizens. Before leaving Dawes the week before he had heard +some talk, linking Danforths name with politics, but he had +discredited the talk. His own selection had been Neil Norton, and he +had asked his friends to consider Norton. + +Taylor listened intently, with the hope of hearing more of the +conversation being carried on between the two men in front of him. But +he heard no more on the subject broached by Carrington. Later, +however, his eyes still closed, still pretending to be asleep, he saw +through veiled eyelids the girl rise from her seat and come toward the +two men in front of him. + +For the first time he got a clear, full view of her face and a deep, +disturbing emotion thrilled him. For now, looking fairly at her, he +was more than ever convinced that he had seen her before, or that her +resemblance to someone he had known was more startling than he had +thought. + +Then he heard Carrington speak to her. + +Getting tired, Miss Harlan? said Carrington. Well, it will soon be +ended, now. One more night on the trainand then Dawes. + +The older man laughed, and touched the girls arm playfully. You +dont mind it, do you, Marion? + +The older man said more, but Taylor did not hear him. For at his +mention of the girls given name, so soon after Carringtons +pronouncement of Harlan, Taylors eyes popped open, and he sat +erect, staring straight at the girl. + +Whether her gaze had been drawn by his, or whether her womans +curiosity had moved her to look at him, Taylor never knew. But she met +his wide gaze fairly, and returned his stare with one equally wide. +Only, he was certain, there was a glint of mocking accusation in her +eyesto remind him, he supposed, that she had caught him +eavesdropping. + +And then she smiled, looking at Carrington. + +One is recompensed for the inconveniences of travel by the +interesting characters one chances to meet. + +And she found opportunity, with Carrington looking full at her, to +throw a swift, significant glance at Taylor. + +Taylor flushed scarlet. Not, however, because of any embarrassment he +felt over her words, but because at that instant was borne +overwhelmingly upon him the knowledge that the girl, and the man, +Carrington, who accompanied hereven the older manwere persons with +whom Fate had insisted that he playor fight. They were to choose. And +that they had chosen to fight was apparent by the girls glance, and +by Carringtons words, Well own Dawes before we get through. + +Taylor got up and went to the smoking-room, where he sat for a long +time, staring out of the window, his eyes on the vast sea of sagebrush +that stretched before him, his mental vision fixed on an earlier day +and upon a tragedy that was linked with the three persons in the +coachwho seemed desirous of antagonizing him. + + + + +CHAPTER IISLICK DUDS + + +After a time Taylors lips wreathed into a smile. He searched in his +pocketshe had transferred all his effects from the clothing in the +suitcase to his present uncomfortable raimentand produced a long, +faded envelope in danger of imminent disintegration. + +The smile faded from his lips as he drew out the contents of the +envelope, and a certain grim pity filled his eyes. He read: + +Squint: + +That rock falling on me has fixed me. There is no use in me trying to +fool myself. Im going out. Theres things a man cant say, even to a +friend like you. So Im writing this. You wont read it until after +Im gone, and then you cant tell me what you think of me for shoving +this responsibility on you. But youll accept, I know; youll do it +for me, wont you? + +Ive had a lot of troublefamily trouble. It wouldnt interest you. +But it made me come West. Maybe I shouldnt have come. I dont know; +but it seemed best. + +Youve been a mighty persevering friend, and I know you from the +ground up. You never inquired about my past, but I know youve +wondered. Once I mentioned my daughter, and I saw you look sharp at +me. Yes, there is a daughter. Her name is Marion. There was a wife and +her brother, Elam Parsons. But only Marion counts. The others were too +selfish and sneaking. + +You wont be interested in that. But I want Marion taken care of. She +was fifteen when I saw her last. She looked just like me; thank God +for that! She wont have any of the characteristics of the others! + +Squint, I want you to take care of her. Youll find her in Westwood, +Illinois. You and me have talked of selling the mine. Sell it; take my +share and for it give Marion a half-interest in your ranch, the Arrow. +If there is any left, put it in land in Dawesthat town is going to +boom. Guard it for her, and marry her, Squint; shell make you a good +wife. Tell her I want her to marry you; shell do it, for she always +liked her dad. + +There was more, but Taylor read no further. He stuffed the envelope +into a pocket and sat looking out of the window, regarding morosely +the featureless landscape. After a time he grinned saturninely: + +Looks to me like a long chance, Larry, he mused. Considered as a +marrying proposition she dont seem to be enthusiastic over me. Now +what in thunder is she doing out here, and why is that man Carrington +with herand where did she pick him up? + +There came no answer to these questions. + +Reluctant, after the girls mocking smile, to seem to intrude, Taylor +sat in the smoking-compartment during the long afternoon, until the +dusk began to descenduntil through the curtains of the compartment he +caught a glimpse of the girl and her companions returning from the +dining-car. Then, after what he considered a decent interval, he +emerged from the compartment, went to the diner, ate heartily, and +returned to the smoking-room. + +He had met Larry Harlan about three years before. Harlan had appeared +at the Arrow one morning, looking for a job. Taylor had hired him, not +because he needed men, but because he thought Harlan needed work. A +friendship had developed, and when one day Harlan had told Taylor +about a mine he had discovered in the Sangre de Christo Mountains, +some miles southwestward, offering Taylor a half-interest if the +latter would help him get at the gold, Taylor had agreed. + +They had found the mine, worked it, and had taken considerable gold +out of it, when one day a huge rock had fallen on Harlan. Taylor had +done what he could, rigging up a drag with which to take Harlan to +town and a doctor, but Harlan had died before town could be reached. + +That had been the extent of Taylors friendship for the man. But he +had followed Harlans directions. + +Sitting in the smoking-compartment, he again drew out Harlans note to +him and read further: + +Marion will have considerable money, and I dont want no sneak to get +hold of itlike the sneak that got hold of the money my wife had, that +I saved. Theres a lot of them around. If Marion is going to fall in +love with one of that kind, Id rather she wouldnt get what I +leavethe man would get it away from her. + +Use your own judgment, and Ill be satisfied. + +It was not difficult for Taylor to divine what had happened to Harlan, +nor was it difficult to understand that the mans distrust of other +men amounted to an obsession. However, Taylor had no choice but to +assume the trust and no course but to obey Harlans wishes in the +matter. + +Taylors trip eastward to Kansas City had been for the purpose of +attending to his own financial interests, and incidentally to conclude +the deal for the sale of the mine. He had deposited the money in his +own name, but he intendedor had intendedafter returning to the Arrow +to make arrangements for his absence, to go to Westwood to find Marion +Harlan. The presence of the girl on the train and the certain +conviction that she was bound for Dawes made the trip to Westwood +unnecessary. + +For Taylor had no doubt that the girl was the daughter of Larry +Harlan. That troublesome resemblance of hers to someone of his +acquaintance bothered him no longer, for the girl was the living image +of Larry Harlan. + +Taylor had not anticipated the coming of Carrington into his scheme of +things. For the first time since Larry Harlans letter had come into +his possession he realized that deep in his heart was a fugitive +desire for the coming of the girl to the Arrow. He had liked Larry +Harlan, and he had drawn mental pictures of what the daughter would be +like; and, though she was not exactly as he had pictured her, she was +near enough to the ideal he had visualized. He wanted, now more than +ever, to faithfully fulfil his obligation to Larry Harlan. + +The presence of Carrington on the train, coupled with the inference +that Carrington was a close friend of the girls, irritated Taylor. +For at the first glance he had felt a subtle antagonism for the man. +Yet he was more disturbed over the mockery in the girls eyes when she +had looked directly at him when she had caught him listening to her +talk with Carrington and the older man. + +Still, Taylor was not the type of man who permits the imminence of +discord to disturb his mental equanimity, and he grinned into the +growing darkness of the plains with a grimly humorous twist to his +lips that promised interesting developments should Carrington oppose +him. + +When he again looked out of the aperture in the curtains screening the +smoking-compartment from the aisle he saw the porter pass, carrying +bedclothing. Later he saw the porter returning, smilingly inspecting a +bill. After an interval the porter stuck his head through the curtains +and surveyed him with a flashing grin: + +Is you ready to retiah, boss? he asked. + +A quarter of an hour later Taylor was alone in his berth, gazing at +his reflection in the glass while he undressed. + +You wouldnt have the nerve to think she is interested in you, would +youyou homely son-of-a-gun? he queried of his reflection. Why, no, +she aint, of course, he added; no woman could be interested in you. +Youve been all day looking like a half-baked dudeand no woman is +interested in dudes! + +Carefully removing the contents of the several pockets of the despised +wearing apparel in which he had suffered for many days, he got into +his nightclothes and rang for the porter. When the latter appeared +with his huge grin, Taylor gave him the offensive clothing, bundled +together to form a large ball. + +George, he said seriously, almost solemnly, Im tired of being a +dude. Some day I may decide to be a dude; but not now. Take these duds +and save them until I ask for them. If you offer them to me before I +ask for them, Ill perforate you sure as hell! + +He produced a big Colt pistol from somewhere, and as the weapon +glinted in the light the porters eyes bulged and he backed away, +gingerly holding the bundle of clothing. + +Yassir, bossyassir! I shuah wont mention it till you does, boss! + +When the porter had gone, Taylor grinned into the glass. + +I sure have felt just what I looked, he said. + +Then he got into his berth and dreamed all night of a girl whose +mocking eyes seemed to say: + +Well, do you think you have profited by listening? + +Why, sure, he retorted, in his dreams; Ive seen you, aint I? + + + + +CHAPTER IIITHE SERPENT TRAIL + + +Marion Harlan did not dream of Quinton Taylor, though her last waking +thought was of him, and when she opened her eyes in the morning it was +to see him as he had sat in the seat behind Carrington and her uncle, +his eyes wide with interest, or astonishmentor some emotion that she +could not definelooking directly at her. + +She had been certain then, and still was certain that he had been +feigning sleep, that he had been listening to the talk carried on +between her uncle and Carrington. + +Why had he listened? + +That interrogation absorbed her thoughts as she dressed. + +She had not meant to be interested in him, for she had, in her first +glance at him, mentally decided that he was no more interesting than +many another ill-dressed and uncouth westerner whom she had seen on +the journey toward Dawes. + +To be sure, she had seen signs of strength in him, mental and +physical, but that had been when she looked at him coming toward her +down the aisle. But even then he had not interested her; her interest +began when she noted his interest in the conversation of her traveling +companions. And then she had noticed several things about him that had +escaped her in other glances at him. + +For one thing, despite the astonishment in his eyes, she had observed +the cold keenness of them, the odd squint at the corners, where little +wrinkles, splaying outward, indicated either deliberate impudence or +concealed mirth. She was rather inclined to believe it the latter, +though she would not have been surprised to discover the wrinkles to +mean the former. + +And then she had noted his mouth; his lips had been straight and firm; +she had been sure they were set resolutely when she had surprised him +looking at her. That had seemed to indicate that he had taken more +than a passing interest in what he had overheard. + +She speculated long over the incident, finally deciding that much +would depend upon what he had overheard. There was only one way to +determine that, and at breakfast in the dining-car she interrogated +Carrington. + +Of course, you and uncle are going to Dawes on business, and I am +merely tagging along to see if I can find any trace of my father. But +have you any business secrets that might interest an eavesdropper? On +a train, for instancea train going toward Dawes? + +What do you mean? Carringtons eyes flashed as he leaned toward her. + +Have you and uncle talked business within hearing distance of a +stranger? + +Carringtons face flushed; he exchanged a swift glance with the other +man. + +You mean that clodhopper with the tight-fitting hand-me-down in the +seat behind usyesterday? He was asleep! + +Then you did talk businessbusiness secrets, smiled the girl. I +thought really big men commonly concealed their business secrets from +the eager ears of outsiders. + +She laughed aloud at Carringtons scowl, and then went on: + +I dont think the clodhopper was asleep. In fact, I rather think he +was very wide awake. I wouldnt say for certain, but I _think_ he was +awake. You see, when I came back to talk with you he was sitting very +straight, and his eyes were wide open. + +And I shall tell you something else, she went on. During all the +time he sat behind you, when you were talking, I watched him, he was +pretending to sleep, for at times he opened his eyes and looked at +you, and I am sure he was not thinking pleasant thoughts. And I dont +believe he is a clodhopper. I think he amounts to something; and if +you will look well at him you will see, too. When he was listening to +you there was a look in his eyes that made me think of fighting. And +then, after a momentary pause, she added slowly, there isnt anything +wrong about the business you are going to transact out hereis there? + +Wrong? he laughed. Oh, no! Business is business. He leaned forward +and gazed deliberately into her eyes, his own glowing significantly. +You dont think, with me holding your good opinionand always hoping +to better itthat I would do anything to destroy it, Marion? + +The girls cheeks were suffused with faint color. + +You are assuming again, Mr. James J. Carrington. I dont care for +your subtle speeches. I like you best when you talk frankly; but I am +not sure that I shall ever like you enough to marry you. + +She smiled at the scowl in his eyes, then looked speculatively at him. +It should have been apparent to him that she had spoken the truth +regarding her feeling for him. + +The uncle knew she had spoken the truth, for she left them presently, +and the car door had hardly closed behind her when Carrington said, +smiling grimly: + +Shes a thoroughbred, Parsons. Thats why I like her. Ill have her, +too! + +Careful, grinned the other, smoothly. If she ever discovers what a +brute you are He made a gesture of finality. + +Brute! Bah! Parsons, you make me sick! Ill take her when I want her! +Why do you suppose I told her that fairy tale about her father having +been seen in this locality? To get her out here with me, of +coursewhere there isnt a hell of a lot of law, and a mans will is +the only thing that governs him. She wont have me, eh? Well, well +see! + +Parsons smirked at the other. Then you lied about Lawrence Harlan +having been seen in this country? + +Sure, admitted Carrington. Why not? + +Parsons looked leeringly at Carrington. Suppose I should tell her? + +Carrington glared at the older man. You wont, he declared. In the +first place, you dont love her as an uncle should because she looks +like Larry Harlanand you hated Larry. Suppose I should tell her that +you were the cause of the trouble between her parents; that you framed +up on her mother, to get her to leave Larry? Why, you damned, +two-faced gopher, shed wither you! + +He grinned at the other and got up, turning, when he reached his feet, +to see Quinton Taylor, standing beside a chair at the next table, just +ready to sit down, but delaying to hear the remainder of the +extraordinary conversation carried on between the two men. + +Taylor had donned the garments he had discarded in Kansas City. A blue +woolen shirt, open at the throat; corduroy trousers, the bottoms +stuffed into the soft tops of high-heeled boots; a well-filled +cartridge-belt, sagging at the right hip with the weight of a heavy +pistoland a broad-brimmed felt hat, which a smiling waiter held for +himcompleted his attire. + +Freshly shaved, his face glowed with the color that betokens perfect +health; and just now his eyes were also glowingbut with frank disgust +and dislike. + +Carrington flushed darkly and stepped close to Taylor. Carringtons +chin was thrust out belligerently; his eyes fairly danced with a rage +that he could hardly restrain. + +Listening again, eh? he said hoarsely. You had your ears trained on +us yesterday, in the Pullman, and now you are at it again. Ive a +notion to knock your damned head off! + +Taylors eyelids flickered once, the little wrinkles at the corners of +his eyes deepening a trifle. But his gaze was steady, and the blue of +his eyes grew a trifle more steely. + +Youve got a bigger notion not to, Mr. Man, he grinned. You run a +whole lot to talk. + +He sat down, twisted around in the chair and faced the table, casting +a humorous eye at the black waiter, and ignoring Carrington. + +Ill want a passable breakfast this morning, George, he said; Im +powerful hungry. + +He did not turn when Carrington went out, followed by Parsons. + +The waiter hovered near him, grinning widely. + +I reckon you-all aint none scary, boss! he said, admiringly. + + + + +CHAPTER IVTHE HOLD-UP + + +After breakfastleaving a widely grinning waiter, who watched him +admiringlyTaylor reentered the Pullman. + +Stretching out in the upholstered seat, Taylor watched the flying +landscape. But his thoughts were upon the two men he had overheard +talking about the girl in the diner. Taylor made a grimace of disgust +at the great world through which the train was speeding; and his +feline grin when his thoughts dwelt definitely upon Carrington, +indicated that the genial waiter had not erred greatly in saying +Taylor was not scary. + +Upon entering, Taylor had flashed a rapid glance into the car. He had +seen Carrington and Parsons sitting together in one of the seats and, +farther down, the girl, leaning back, was looking out of the window. +Her back was toward Taylor. She had not seen him enter the carand he +was certain she had not seen him leave it to go to the diner. He had +thoughtas he had glanced at her as he went into the smoking +compartmentthat, despite the girls seemingly affectionate manner +toward Parsons, and her cordial treatment of the big man, her manner +indicated the presence of a certain restraint. And as he looked toward +her, he wondered if Parsons or the big man had told her anything of +the conversation in the diner in which he himself figured. + +And now, looking out of the window, he decided that even if the men +had told her, she would not betray her knowledge to himunless it were +to give him another scornful glancethe kind she threw at him when she +saw him as he sat behind the two men when they had been talking of +Dawes. Taylor reddened and gritted his teeth impotently; for he knew +that if the two men had told her anything, they would have informed +her, merely, that they had again caught him listening to them. And for +that double offense, Taylor knew there would be no pardon from her. + +Half an hour later, while still thinking of the girl and the men, +Taylor felt the train slowing down. Peering as far ahead as he could +by pressing his face against the glass of the window, Taylor saw the +train was entering a big cut between some hills. It was a wild +section, with a heavy growth of timber skirting the hillson Taylors +side of the trainand running at a sharp angle toward the right-of-way +came a small river. + +Taylor recognized the place as Tobans Siding. He did not know how the +spot had come by its name; nor did he know much about it except that +there was a spur of track and a water-tank. And when the train began +to slow down he supposed the engineer had decided to stop to take on +water. He found himself wondering, though, why that should be +necessary, for he was certain the train had stopped for water a few +miles back, while he had been in the dining-car. + +The train was already late, and Taylor grinned as he settled farther +back in the seat and drew a sigh of resignation. There was no +accounting for the whims of an engineer, he supposed. + +He felt the train come to a jerking stop; and then fell a silence. An +instant later the silence was broken by two sharp reports, a distinct +interval between them. Taylor sat erect, the smile leaving his face, +and his lips setting grimly as the word Hold-up came from between +them. + +Marion Harlan also heard the two reports. Stories of train +robberiesrecollections of travelers tales recurred in her brain as +she sat, for the first tense instant following the reports, listening +for other sounds. Her face grew a little pale, and a tremor ran over +her; but she did not feel a bit like screamingthough in all the +stories she had ever read, women always yielded to the hysteria of +that moment in which a train-robber makes his presence known. + +She was not frightened, though she was just a trifle nervous, and more +than a trifle curious. So she pressed her cheek against the +window-glass and looked forward. + +What she saw caused her to draw back again, her curiosity satisfied. +For on the side of the cut near the engine, she had seen a man with a +riflea masked man, tall and rough-lookingand it seemed to her that +the weapon in his hands was menacing someone in the engine-cab. + +She stiffened, looking quickly around the car. None of the passengers +had moved. Carrington and Parsons were still sitting together in the +seat. They were sitting erect, though, and she saw they, too, were +curious. More, she saw that both men were pale, and that Carrington, +the instant she turned, became activebending over, apparently trying +to hide something under a seat. That movement on Carringtons part was +convincing, and the girl drew a deep breath. + +While she was debating the wisdom of permitting her curiosity to drive +her to the door nearest her to determine what had happened, the door +burst open and a masked man appeared in the opening! + +While she stared at him, he uttered the short, terse command: + +Hands up! + +She supposed that meant her, as well as the men in the car, and she +complied, though with a resentful glare at the mask. + +Daringly she turned her head and glanced back. Carrington had his +hands up, too; and Parsonsand the tourist, and the other man. She did +not see Taylorthough she wondered, on the instant, if he, too, would +obey the train-robbers command. + +She decided he wouldany other course would have been foolhardy; +though she could not help remembering that queer gleam in Taylors +eyes. That gleam, it had seemed to her, was a reflection ofnot +foolhardiness, but of sheer courage. + +However, she had little time to speculate. The masked man advanced, a +heavy gun in his right hand, its muzzle moving from side to side, +menacing them all. + +He halted when he had advanced to within a step of the girl. + +You guys set tight! he ordered grufflyin the manner of the +train-robber of romance. If you go to lettin down your sky-hooks one +little quiver, I bore you so fast an plenty that youll think youre +a colander! Then he turned the mask toward the girl; she could feel +his eyes burning through it. + +Shell out, lady! he commanded. + +She stared straight back at the eye-slits in the mask, defiance +glinting her own eyes. + +I havent any moneyor anything of valueto give you, she returned. + +Youve got a pocketbook therein your hand! he said. Fork it over! +He removed his hat, held it in his left hand, and extended it toward +her. Toss it in there! + +Hesitatingly, she obeyed, though not without a vindictive satisfaction +in knowing that he would find little in the purse to compensate him +for his trouble. She could see his eyes gleam greedily as he still +looked at her. + +Now that chain an locket youve got around your neck! he ordered. +Quick! he added, savagely, as she stiffened and glared at him. + +She did as she was bidden, though; for she had no doubt he would kill +herat least his manner indicated he would. And so she removed it, +held it lingering in her hand for an instant, and then tossed it into +the hat. She gulped as she did so, for the trinket had been given to +her by her father before he left home to go on that pilgrimage from +which he had never returned. + +Thats all, eh? snarled the man. Well, I aint swallowin that! Im +goin to search you! + +She believed she must have screamed at that. She knew she stood up, +prepared to fight him if he attempted to carry out his threat; and +once on her feet she looked backward. + +Neither Carrington nor Parsons had movedthey were palely silent, +watching, not offering to interfere. As for that, she knew that any +sign of interference on the part of her friends would result in their +instant death. But she did not know what they _should_ do! Something +must be done, for she could not permit the indignity the man +threatened! + +Still looking backward, she saw Taylor standing at the end of the +carwhere the partition of the smoking-compartment extended outward. +He held a gun in each hand. He had heard her scream, and on his face +as the girl turned toward him, she saw a mirthless grin that made her +shiver. She believed it must have been her gasp that caused the +train-robber to look swiftly at Taylor. + +Whatever had caused the man to look toward the rear of the car, he saw +Taylor; and the girl saw him stiffen as his pistol roared in her ears. +Taylors pistols crashed at the same instanttwicethe reports almost +together. Afterward she could not have told what surprised her the +mostseeing the man at her side drop his pistol and lurch limply +against a corner of the seat opposite her, and from there slide gently +to the floor, grunting; or the spectacle of Taylor, arrayed in cowboy +garb, emerging from the door of the smoking-compartment, the mirthless +smile on his face, and his gunshe had used bothblazing forth death +to the man who had threatened her. + +Nor could sheafterwardhave related what followed the sudden +termination of the incident in the car. Salient memories stood outthe +vivid and tragic recollection of chief incidents that occurred +immediately; but she could not have even guessed how they happened. + +She saw Taylor as he stood for an instant looking down at the man +after he came running forward to where the other lay; and she saw +Taylor leap for the front door of the car, vanish through it, and slam +it after him. + +For an instant after that there was silence, during which she +shuddered as she tried to keep her gaze from the thing that lay +doubled oddly in the aisle. + +And then she heard more shooting. It came from the direction of the +enginethe staccato crashing of pistols; the shouts of men, their +voices raised in anger. + +Pressing her cheek against the window-pane, and looking forward toward +the engine, she saw Taylor. With a gun in each hand, he was running +down the little level between the track and the steep wall of the cut, +toward her. She noted that his face still wore the mirthless grin that +had been on it when he shot the train-robber in the car; though his +eyes were alight with the lust of battlethat was all too plainand +she shivered. For Taylor, having killed one man, and grimly pursuing +others, seemed to suggest the spirit of this grim, rugged countrythe +threat of death that seemed to linger on every hand. + +She saw him snap a shot as he ran, bending far over to send the bullet +under the car; she heard a pistol crash from the other side of the +car; and then she saw Taylor go to his knees. + +She gasped with horror and held to the window-sill, for she feared +Taylor had been killed. But almost instantly she saw her error, for +Taylor was on his hands and knees crawling when she could again +concentrate her gaze; and she knew he was crawling under the car to +catch the man who had shot from the other side. + +Then Taylor disappeared, and she did not see him for a time. She heard +shots, though; many of them; and then, after a great while, a silence. +And during the silence she sat very still, her face white and her lips +stiff, waiting. + +The silence seemed to endure for an age; and then it was broken by the +sound of voices, the opening of the door of the car, and the +appearance of Taylor and some other menseveral members of the +train-crew; the express-messenger; the engineer, his right arm hanging +limplyand two men, preceding the others, their hands bound, their +faces sullen. + +On Taylors face was the grin that had been on it all along. The girl +wondered at the mans marvelous self-controlfor certainly during +those moments of excitement and danger he must have been aware of the +terrible risk he had been running. And then the thought struck hershe +had not considered that phase of the situation beforethat she _must_ +have screamed; that he had heard her, and had emerged from the +smoking-room to protect her. She blushed, gratitude and a riot of +other emotions overwhelming her, so that she leaned weakly back in the +seat, succumbing to the inevitable reaction. + +She did not look at Taylor again; she did not even see him as he +walked toward the rear of the car, followed by the train-crew, and +preceded by the two train-robbers he had captured. + +But as the train-crew passed her, she heard one of them say: + +That guys a whirlwind with a gun! Didnt do no hesitatin, did he? + +And again: + +Now, what do you suppose would make a guy jump in that way an run a +chance of gettin pluggedplenty? Do you reckon he was just yearnin +fer trouble, or do you reckon they was somethin else behind it? + +The girl might have answered, but she did not. She sat very still, +comparing Carrington with this man who had plunged instantly into a +desperate gun-fight to protect her. And she knew that Carrington would +not have done as Taylor had done. And had Carrington seen her face +just at that moment he would have understood that there was no +possibility of him ever achieving the success of which he had dreamed. + +She heard one of the men say that the two men were to be placed in the +baggage-car until they reached Dawes; and then Carrington and Parsons +came to where she sat. + +They talked, but the girl did not hear them, for her thoughts were on +the picture Taylor made when he appeared at the door of the +smoking-compartment arrayed in his cowboy rigging, the grim smile on +his face, his guns flaming death to the man who thought to take +advantage of her helplessness. + + + + +CHAPTER VTHE UNEXPECTED + + +The train pulled out again presently, and the water-tank and the cut +were rapidly left in the rear. Taylor returned to the smoking-room and +resumed his seat, and while the girl looked out of the window, some +men of the train-crew removed the body of the train-robber and +obliterated all traces of the fight. And Carrington and Parsons, +noting the girls abstractedness, again left her to herself. + +It had been the girls first glimpse of a man in cowboy raiment, and, +as she reflected, she knew she might have known Taylor was an unusual +man. However, she knew it now. + +Cursory glances at drawings she had seen made her familiar with the +type, but the cowboys of those drawings had been magnificently arrayed +in leather _chaparajos_, usually fringed with spangles; and with +long-roweled spurs; magnificent wide brimsalso bespangled, and +various other articles of personal adornment, bewildering and awe +inspiring. + +But this man, though undoubtedly a cow-puncher, was minus the +magnificent raiment of the drawings. And, paradoxical as it may seem, +the absence of any magnificent trappings made _him_ seem magnificent. + +But she was not so sure that it was the lack of those things that gave +her that impression. He did not _bulge_ in his cowboy clothing; it +fitted him perfectly. She was sure it was he who gave magnificence to +the clothing. Anyway, she was certain he was magnificent, and her eyes +glowed. She knew, now that she had seen him in clothing to which he +was accustomed, and which he knew how to wear, that she would have +been more interested in him yesterday had he appeared before her +arrayed as he was at this moment. + +He had shown himself capable, self-reliant, confident. She would have +given him her entire admiration had it not been for the knowledge that +she had caught him eavesdropping. That action had almost damned him in +her estimationit would have completely and irrevocably condemned him +had it not been for her recollection of the stern, almost savage +interest she had seen in his eyes while he had been listening to +Carrington and Parsons. + +She knew because of that expression that Carrington and Parsons had +been discussing something in which he took a personal interest. She +had not said so much to Carrington, but her instinct told her, warned +her, gave her a presentiment of impending trouble. That was what she +had meant when she had told Carrington she had seen _fighting_ in +Taylors eyes. + +Taylor confined himself to the smoking-compartment. The negro porter, +with pleasing memories of generous tips and a grimmer memory to exact +his worship, hung around him, eager to serve him, and to engage him in +conversation; once he grinningly mentioned the incident of the +cast-off clothing of the night before. + +I aint mentionin it, bossnot at all! I aint givin you them duds +till you ast for them. You done took me by sprise, bossyou shuah +did. I might near caved when you shoved that gun under ma noseI +shuah did, boss. I dont want to have nothin to do with your gun, +bossI shuah dont. Shed go pop, an I wouldnt be heah no more! + +I didnt reconize you in them heathen clos you had on yesterday, +boss; but I minds you with them duds on. I knows you; youre Squint +Taylor, of Dawes. Ive seen you on that big black hoss of yourn, a +prancin an a prancin through townmoren once Ive seen you. But I +didnt know you in them heathen clos yesterday, bossdeed I didnt! + +Later the porter slipped into the compartment. For a minute or two he +fussed around the room, setting things to order, meanwhile chuckling +to himself. Occasionally he would cease his activities long enough to +slap a knee with the palm of a hand, with which movement he would seem +to be convulsed with merriment, and then he would resume work, +chuckling audibly. + +For a time Taylor took no notice of his antics, but they assailed his +consciousness presently, and finally he asked: + +Whats eating you, George? + +The query was evidently just what George had been waiting for. For +now he turned and looked at Taylor, his face solemn, but a white gleam +of mirth in his eyes belying the solemnity. + +Tips is comin easy for George this mornin, he said; they shuah +is. No trouble at all. If a man wants to get tips all he has to be is +a dictionaryhe, he, he! + +So youre a dictionary, eh? Well, explain the meaning of this. And +he tossed a silver dollar to the other. + +The dollar in hand, George tilted his head sidewise at Taylor. + +How on earth you know I got somethin to tell you? + +How do I know Ive got two hands? + +By lookin at them, boss. + +Well, thats how I know youve got something to tell meby looking at +you. + +The porter chuckled. I reckon its worth a dollar to have a young +lady interested in you, he told himself in a confidential voice, +without looking at Taylor; yassir, its sure worth a dollar. He +slapped his knee delightedly. That young lady a heap interested in +you, pears like. While ago she pens me in a corner of the platform. +Porter, whos that man in the smoking-compartmentthat cowboy? Whats +his name, an where does he live? I hesitates, cause I didnt want +to betray no secretsan scratch my haid. Then she pop half a dollar +in my hand, an I tole her you are Squint Taylor, an that you own the +Arrow ranch, not far from Dawes. An she thank me an go away, +grinnin. + +And the young lady, George; do you know her name? + +Them men shes travelin with calls her Marion, boss. + +He peered intently at Taylor for signs of interest. He saw no such +signs, and after a while, noting that Taylor seemed preoccupied, and +was evidently no longer aware of his presence, he slipped out +noiselessly. + +At nine thirty, Taylor, looking out of the car window, noted that the +country was growing familiar. Fifteen minutes later the porter stuck +his head in between the curtains, saw that Taylor was still absorbed, +and withdrew. At nine fifty-five the porter entered the compartment. + +Well be in Dawes in five minutes, boss, he said. Ive toted your +baggage to the door. + +The porter withdrew, and a little later Taylor got up and went out +into the aisle. At the far end of the car, near the door, he saw +Marion Harlan, Parsons, and Carrington. + +He did not want to meet them again after what had occurred in the +diner, and he cast a glance toward the door behind him, hoping that +the porter had carried his baggage to that end of the car. But the +platform was emptyhis suitcase was at the other end. + +He slipped into a seat on the side of the train that would presently +disclose to him a view of Dawess depot, and of Dawes itself, leaned +an elbow on the window-sill, and waited. Apparently the three persons +at the other end of the car paid no attention to him, but glancing +sidelong once he saw the girl throw an interested glance at him. + +And then the air-brakes hissed; he felt the train slowing down, and he +got up and walked slowly toward the girl and her companions. At about +the same instant she and the others began to move toward the door; so +that when the train came to a stop they were on the car platform by +the time Taylor reached the door. And by the time he stepped out upon +the car platform the girl and her friends were on the station +platform, their baggage piled at their feet. + +Dawess depot was merely a roofless platform; and there was no shelter +from the glaring white sun that flooded it. The change from the +subdued light of the coach to the shimmering, blinding glare of the +sun on the wooden planks of the platform affected Taylors eyes, and +he was forced to look downward as he alighted. And then, not looking +up, he went to the baggage-car and pulled his two prisoners out. + +Looking up as he walked down the platform with the two men, he saw a +transformed Dawes. + +The little, frame station building had been a red, dingy blot beside +the glistening rails that paralleled the town. It was now gaily draped +with buntingred, white, and bluewhich he recognized as having been +used on the occasion of the towns anniversary celebration. + +A big American flag topped the ridge of the station; other flags +projected from various angles of the frame. + +Most of the towns other buildings were replicas of the station in the +matter of decorationsfestoons of bunting ran here and there from +building to building; broad bands of it were stretched across the +fronts of other buildings; gay loops of it crossed the street, +suspended to form triumphal arches; flags, wreaths of laurel, Japanese +lanterns, and other paraphernalia of the decorators art were +everywhere. + +Down the street near the Castle Hotel, Taylor saw transparencies, but +he could not make out the words on them. + +He grinned, for certainly the victor of yesterdays election was +outdoing himself. + +He looked into the face of a man who stood near him on the +platformwho answered his grin. + +Our new mayor is celebrating in style, eh? he said. + +Right! declared the man. + +He was about to ask the man which candidate had been victoriousthough +he was certain it was Neil Nortonwhen he saw Marion Harlan, standing +a little distance from him, smiling at him. + +It was a broad, impersonal smile, such as one citizen of a town might +exchange with another when both are confronted with the visible +evidences of political victory; and Taylor responded to it with one +equally impersonal. Whereat the girls smile faded, and her gaze, +still upon Taylor, became speculative. Its quality told Taylor that he +should not presume upon the smile. + +Taylor had no intention of presuming anything. Not even the porters +story of the girls interest in him had affected him to the extent of +fatuous imaginings. A womans curiosity, he supposed, had led her to +inquire about him. He expected she rarely saw men arrayed as he +wasand as he had been arrayed the day before. + +The girls gaze went from Taylor to the street in the immediate +vicinity of the station, and for the first time since alighting on the +platform Taylor saw a mass of people near him. + +Looking sharply at them, he saw many faces in the mass that he knew. +They all seemed to be looking at him and, with the suddenness of a +stroke came to him the consciousness that there was no soundthat +silence, deep and unusual, reigned in Dawes. The train, usually merely +stopping at the station and then resuming its trip, was still standing +motionless behind him. With a sidelong glance he saw the train-crew +standing near the steps of the cars, looking at him. The porter and +the waiter with whose faces he was familiar, were grinning at him. + +Taylor felt that his own grin, as he gazed around at the faces that +were all turned toward him, was vacuous and foolish. He _felt_ +foolish. For he knew something had attracted the attention of all +these people to him, and he had not the slightest idea what it was. +For an instant he feared that through some mental lapse he had +forgotten to remove his dude clothing; and he looked down at his +trousers and felt of his shirt, to reassure himself. And he gravely +and intently looked at his prisoners, wondering if by any chance some +practical joker of the town had arranged the train robbery for his +special benefit. If that were the explanation it had been grim +hoaxfor two men had been killed in the fight. + +Looking up again, he saw that the grins on the faces of the people +around him had grown broaderand several loud guffaws of laughter +reached his ears. He looked at Marion Harlan, and saw a puzzled +expression on her face. Carrington, too, was looking at him, and +Parsons, whose smile was a smirk of perplexity. + +Taylor reddened with embarrassment. A resentment that grew swiftly to +an angry intolerance, seized him. He straightened, squared his +shoulders, thrust out his chin, and shoving his prisoners before him, +took several long strides across the station platform. + +This movement brought him close to Marion Harlan and her friends, and +his further progress was barred by a man who placed a hand against his +chest. + +This man, too, was grinning. He seized Taylors shoulders with both +hands and looked into his face, the grin on his own broad and +expanding. + +Welcome homeyou old son-of-a-gun! said the man. + +His grin was infectious and Taylor answered it, dropping his suitcase +and looking the other straight in the eyes. + +Norton, he said, what in hell is the cause of all this staring at +me? Cant a man leave town for a few days and come back without +everybody looking at him as though he were a curiosity? + +Nortona tall, slender, sinewy man with broad shoulderslaughed aloud +and deliberately winked at several interested citizens who had +followed Taylors progress across the platform, and who now stood near +him, grinning. + +You are a curiosity, man. Youre the first mayor of this mans town! +Lordy, he said to the surrounding faces, he hasnt tumbled to it +yet! + +The color left Taylors face; he stared hard at Norton; he gazed in +bewilderment at the faces near him. + +Mayor? he said. Why, good Lord, man, I wasnt here yesterday! + +But your friends were! yelped the delighted Norton. He raised his +voice, so that it reached far into the crowd on the street: + +Hes sort of fussed up, boys; this honor being conferred on him so +sudden; but give him time and hell talk your heads off! He leaned +over to Taylor and whispered in his ear. + +Grin, man, for Gods sake! Dont stand there like a wooden man; +theyll think you dont appreciate it! Its the first time I ever saw +you lose your nerve. Buck up, man; why, they simply swamped Danforth; +wiped him clean off the map! + +Norton was whispering more into Taylors ear, but Taylor could not +follow the sequence of it, nor get a coherent meaning out of it. He +even doubted that he heard Norton. He straightened, and looked around +at the crowd that now was pressing in on him, and for the first time +in his life he knew the mental panic and the physical sickness that +overtakes the man who for the first time faces an audience whose eyes +are focused on him. + +For a bag of gold as big as the mountains that loomed over the distant +southern horizon he could not have said a word to the crowd. But he +did succeed in grinning at the faces around him, and at that the crowd +yelled. + +And just before the crowd closed in on him and he began to shake hands +with his delighted supporters, he glanced at Marion Harlan. She was +looking at him with a certain sober interest, though he was sure that +back in her eyes was a sort of humorous malicewhich had, however, a +softening quality of admiration and, perhaps, gratitude. + +His gaze went from her to Carrington. The big man was watching him +with a veiled sneer which, when he met Taylors eyes, grew open and +unmistakable. + +Taylor grinned broadly at him, for now it occurred to him that he +would be able to thwart Carringtons designs of getting hold of the +reins. His grin at Carrington was a silent challenge, and so the +other interpreted it, for his sneer grew positively venomous. + +The girl caught the exchange of glances between them, for Taylor heard +her say to Parsons, just before the noise of the crowd drowned her +voice: + +Now I _know_ he overheard you! + +Meanwhile, the two prisoners were standing near Taylor. Taylor had +almost forgotten them. He was reminded of their presence when he saw +Keats, the sheriff, standing near him. At just the instant Taylor +looked at Keats, the latter was critically watching the prisoners. + +Keats and Taylor had had many differences of opinion, for the +sheriffs official actions had not merited nor received Taylors +approval. Taylors attitude toward the man had always been that of +good-natured banter, despite the disgust he felt for the man. And now, +pursuing his customary attitude, Taylor called to him: + +Specimens, eh! Picked them up at Tobans this morning. They yearned +to hold up the train. There were four, all together, but we had to put +two out of business. I came pretty near forgetting them. If I hadnt +seen you just now, maybe I would have walked right off and left them +here. Take them to jail, Keats. + +Keats advanced. He met Taylors eyes and his lips curved with a sneer: + +Pullin off a little grand-stand play, eh! Well, its a mighty clever +idea. First you get elected mayor, an then you come in here, draggin +along a couple of mean-lookin hombres, an say theyve tried to hold +up the train at Tobans. It sounds mighty fishy to me! + +Taylor laughed. He heard a chuckle behind him, and he turned, to see +Carrington grinning significantly at Keats. Taylors eyes chilled as +his gaze went from one man to the other, for the exchange of glances +told him that between the men there was a common interest, which would +link them together against him. And in the dead silence that followed +Keatss words, Taylor drawled, grinning coldly: + +Meaning that Im a liar, Keats? + +His voice was gentle, and his shoulders seemed to droop a little as +though in his mind was a desire to placate Keats. But there were men +in Dawes who had seen Taylor work his guns, and these held their +breath and began to shove backward. That slow, drooping of Taylors +shoulders was a danger signal, a silent warning that Taylor was ready +for action, swift and violent. + +And faces around Taylor whitened as the man stood there facing Keats, +his shoulders drooping still lower, the smile on his face becoming one +of cold, grim mockery. + +The discomfiture of Keats was apparent. Indecision and fear were in +the set of his headbowed a little; and a dread reluctance was in his +shifting eyes and the pasty-white color of his face. It was plain that +Keats had overplayed; he had not intended to arouse the latent tiger +in Taylor; he had meant merely to embarrass him. + +Meaning that Im a liar, Keats? + +Again Taylors voice was gentle, though this time it carried a subtle +taunt. + +Desperately harried, Keats licked his hot lips and cast a sullen +glance around at the crowd. Then his gaze went to Taylors face, and +he drew a slow breath. + +I reckon I wasnt meanin just that, he said. + +Of course, smiled Taylor; thats no way for a sheriff to act. Take +them in, Keats, he added, waving a hand at the prisoners; its been +so long since the sheriff of this county arrested a man that the +jails gettin tired, yawning for somebody to get into it. + +He turned his back on Keats and looked straight at Carrington: + +Have you got any ideas along the sheriffs line? he asked. + +Carrington flushed and his lips went into a sullen pout. He did not +speak, merely shaking his head, negatively. + +Keatss glance at Taylor was malignant with hate; and Carringtons +sullen, venomous look was not unnoticed by the crowd. Keats stepped +forward and seized the two prisoners, hustling them away, muttering +profanely. + +And then Taylor was led away by Norton and a committee of citizens, +leaving Carrington, the girl and Parsons alone on the platform. + +Looks like were going to have trouble lining things up, remarked +Parsons. Danforth + +You shut up! snapped Carrington. Danforths an ass and so are you! + + + + +CHAPTER VIA MAN MAKES PLANS + + +Within an hour after his arrival in Dawes, Carrington was sitting in +the big front room of his suite in the Castle Hotel, inspecting the +town. + +A bay window projected over the sidewalk, and from a big leather chair +placed almost in the center of the bay between two windows and facing +a third, at the front, Carrington had a remarkably good view of the +town. + +Dawes was a thriving center of activity, with reasons for its +prosperity. Walking toward the Castle from the railroad station, +Carrington had caught a glimpse of the big dam blocking the +constricted neck of a wide basin west of the townand farther westward +stretched a vast agricultural section, level as a floor, with a carpet +of green slumbering in the white sunlight, and dotted with young trees +that seemed almost ready to bear. + +There were many small buildings on the big level, some tenthouses, and +straight through the level was a wide, sparkling stream of water, with +other and smaller streams intersecting it. These streams were +irrigation ditches, and the moisture in them was giving life to a vast +section of country that had previously been arid and dead. + +But Carringtons interest had not been so much for the land as for the +method of irrigation. To be sure, he had not stopped long to look, but +he had comprehended the system at a glance. There were locks and +flumes and water-gates, and plenty of water. But the irrigation +company had not completed its system. Carrington intended to complete +it. + +Dawes was two years old, and it had the appearance of having been +hastily constructed. Its buildings were mostly of frameeven the +Castle, large and pretentious, and the towns aristocrat of +hostelries, was of frame. Carrington smiled, for later, when he had +got himself established, he intended to introduce an innovation in +building material. + +The courthouse was a frame structure. It was directly across the +street from the Castle, and Carrington could look into its windows and +see some men at work inside at desks. He had no interest in the post +office, for that was of the national governmentand yet, perhaps, +after a while he might take some interest in that. + +For Carringtons vision, though selfish, was broad. A multitude of men +of the Carrington type have taken bold positions in the eternal battle +for progress, and all have contributed something toward the ultimate +ideal. And not all have been scoundrels. + +Carringtons vision, however, was blurred by the mote of greed. Dawes +was flourishing; he intended to modernize it, but in the process of +modernization he intended to be the chief recipient of the material +profits. + +Carrington had washed, shaved himself, and changed his clothes; and as +he sat in the big leather chair in the bay, overlooking the street, he +looked smooth, sleek, and capable. + +He had seemed massive in the Pullman, wearing a traveling suit of some +light material, and his corpulent waist-line had been somewhat +accentuated. + +The blue serge suit he wore now made a startling change in his +appearance. It made his shoulders seem broader; it made the wide, +swelling arch of his chest more pronounced, and in inverse ratio it +contracted the corpulent waist-linealmost eliminating it. + +Carrington looked to be what he wasa big, virile, magnetic giant of a +man in perfect health. + +He had not been sitting in the leather chair for more than fifteen +minutes when there came a knock on a door behind him. + +Come! he commanded. + +A tall man entered, closed the door behind him and with hat in hand +stood looking at Carrington with a half-smile which might have been +slightly diffident, or impudent or defiantit was puzzling. + +Carrington had twisted in his chair to get a glimpse of his visitor; +he now grunted, resumed his former position and said, gruffly: + +Hello, Danforth! + +Danforth stepped over to the bay, and without invitation drew up a +chair and seated himself near Carrington. + +Danforth was slender, big-framed, and sinewy. His shoulders were broad +and his waist slim. There was a stubborn thrust to his chin; his nose +was a trifle too long to perfectly fit his face; his mouth a little +too big, and the lips too thin. The nose had a slight droop that made +one think of selfishness and greed, and the thin lips, with a downward +swerve at the corners, suggested cruelty. + +These defects, however, were not prominent, for they were offset by a +really distinguished head with a mass of short, curly hair that +ruffled attractively under the brim of the felt hat he wore. + +The hat was in his right hand, now, but it had left its impress on his +hair, and as he sat down he ran his free hand through it. Danforth +knew where his attractions were. + +He grinned shallowly at Carrington when the latter turned and looked +at him. + +He cleared his throat. I suppose youve heard about it? + +I couldnt help hearing. Carrington scowled at the other. What in +hell was wrong? We send you out here, give you more than a years time +and all the money you wantwhich has been plentyand then you lose. +What in the devil was the matter? + +Too much Taylor, smirked the other. + +But what else? + +Nothing elsejust Taylor. + +Carrington exclaimed profanely. + +Why, the man didnt even know he was a candidate! He was on the train +I came in on! + +It was Neil Nortons scheme, explained Danforth. I had _him_ beaten +to a frazzle. I suppose he knew it. Two days before election he +suddenly withdrew his name and substituted Taylors. You know what +happened. He licked me two to one. He was too popular for medamn him! + +Norton owns a newspaper herethe only one in the countythe _Eagle_. + +Why didnt you buy him? + +Danforth grinned sarcastically: I didnt feel that reckless. + +Honest, eh? + +Carrington rested his chin in the palm of his right hand and scowled +into the street. He was convinced that Danforth had done everything he +could to win the election, and he was bitterly chagrined over the +result. But that result was not the dominating thought in his mind. He +kept seeing Taylor as the latter had stood on the station platform, +stunned with surprise over the knowledge that he had been so signally +honored by the people of Dawes. + +And Carrington had seen Marion Harlans glances at the man; he had +been aware of the admiring smile she had given Taylor; and bitter +passion gripped Carrington at the recollection of the smile. + +Morehe had seen Taylors face when the girl had smiled. The smile had +thrilled Taylorit had held promise for him, and Carrington knew it. + +Carrington continued to stare out into the street. Danforth watched +him furtively, in silence. + +At last, not opening his lips, Carrington spoke: + +Tell me about this man, Taylor. + +Taylor owns the Arrow ranch, in the basin south of here. His ranch +covers about twenty thousand acres. He has a clear title. + +According to report, he employs about thirty men. They are holy +terrorsthat is, they are what is called hard cases, though they are +not outlaws by any means. Just a devil-may-care bunch that raises hell +when it strikes town. They swear by Taylor. + +So far as Carrington could see, everybody in Dawes swore by Taylor. +Carrington grimaced. + +That isnt what I want to know, he flared. How long has he been +here; what kind of a fellow is he? + +Taylor owned the Arrow before Dawes was founded. When the railroad +came through it brought with it some land-sharks that tried to frame +up on the ranch-owners in the vicinity. It was a slick scheme, they +tell me. They had clouded every title, and figured to grab the whole +county, it seems. + +Taylor went after them. People Ive talked with here say it was a +dandy shindy while it lasted. The land-grabbers brought the courts in, +and a crooked judge. Taylor fought them, crooked judge and all, to a +bite-the-dust finish. Toward the end it was a free-for-alland the +land-grabbers were chased out of the county. + +Naturally, the folks around here think a lot of Taylor for the part +he played in the deal. Besides that, hes a man that makes friends +quicklyand holds them. + +Has Taylor any interests besides his ranch? + +A share in the water company, I believe. He owns some land in town; +and he is usually on all the public committees here. + +About thirty, isnt he? + +Twenty-eight. + +Carrington looked at the other with a sidelong, sneering grin: + +Have any ladies come into his young life? + +Danforth snickered. Youve got meI hadnt inquired. He doesnt seem +to be much of a ladies man, though, I take it. Doesnt seem to have +time to monkey with them. + +H-m! Carringtons lips went into a pout as he stared straight ahead +of him. + +Danforth at last broke a long silence with: + +Well, we got licked, all right. Whats going to happen now? Are you +going to quit? + +Quit? Carrington snapped the word at the other, his eyes flaming +with rage. Then he laughed, mirthlessly, resuming: This defeat was +unexpected; I wasnt set for it. But it wont alter thingsvery much. +Ill have to shake a leg, thats all. What time does the next train +leave here for the capital? + +At two oclock this afternoon. Danforths eyes widened as he looked +at Carrington. The curiosity in his glance caused Carrington to laugh +shortly. + +You dont mean that the governor is in this thing? said Danforth. + +Why not? demanded Carrington. Bah! Do you think I came in with my +eyes closed! + +There was a new light in Danforths eyesthe flame of renewed hope. + +Then weve still got a chance, he declared. + +Carrington laughed. A too-popular mayor is not a good thing for a +town, he said significantly. + + + + +CHAPTER VIITHE SHADOW OF THE PAST + + +Marion Harlan and her uncle, Elam Parsons, did not accompany +Carrington to the Castle Hotel. By telegraph, through Danforth, +Carrington had bought a house near Dawes, and shortly after Quinton +Taylor left the station platform accompanied by his friends and +admirers, Marion and her uncle were in a buckboard riding toward the +place that, henceforth, was to be their home. + +For that question had been settled before the party left Westwood. +Parsons had declared his future activities were to be centered in +Dawes, that he had no further interests to keep him in Westwood, and +that he intended to make his home in Dawes. + +Certainly Marion had few interests in the town that had been the scene +of the domestic tragedy that had left her parentless. She was glad to +get away. For though she had not been to blame for what had happened, +she was painfully conscious of the stares that followed her +everywhere, and aware of the morbid curiosity with which her neighbors +regarded her. Alsothrough the medium of certain of her friends, she +had become cognizant of speculative whisperings, such as: To think of +being brought up like that? Do you think she will be like her mother? +OrWhats bred in the bone, _et cetera_. + +Perhaps these good people did not mean to be unkind; certainly the +crimson stains that colored the girls cheeks when she passed them +should have won their charity and their silence. + +There was nothing in Westwood for her; and so she was glad to get +away. And the trip westward toward Dawes opened a new vista of life to +her. She was leaving the old and the tragic and adventuring into the +new and promising, where she could face life without the onus of a +shame that had not been hers. + +Before she was half way to Dawes she had forgotten Westwood and its +wagging tongues. She alone, of all the passengers in the Pullman, had +not been aware of the heat and the discomfort. She had loved every +foot of the great prairie land that, green and beautiful, had flashed +past the car window; she had gazed with eager, interested eyes into +the far reaches of the desert through which she had passed, filling +her soul with the mystic beauty of this new world, reveling in its +vastness and in the atmosphere of calm that seemed to engulf it. + +Dawes had not disappointed her; on the contrary, she loved it at first +sight. For though Dawes was new and crude, it looked rugged and +honestand rather too busy to hesitate for the purpose of indulging in +gossipidle or otherwise. Dawes, she was certain, was occupying itself +with progressa thing that, long since, Westwood had forgotten. + +Five minutes after she had entered the buckboard, the spirit of this +new world had seized upon the girl and she was athrob and atingle with +the joy of it. It filled her veins; it made her cheeks flame and her +eyes dance. And the strange aromathe pungent breath of the sage, +borne to her on the slight breezeshe drew into her lungs with great +long breaths that seemed to intoxicate her. + +Oh, she exclaimed delightedly, isnt it great! Oh, I love it! + +Elam Parsons grinned at herthe habitual smirk with which he +recognized all emotion not his own. + +It _does_ look like a good field for business, he conceded. + +The girl looked at him quickly, divined the sordidness of his +thoughts, and puckered her brows in a frown. And thereafter she +enjoyed the esthetic beauties of her world without seeking +confirmation from her uncle. + +Her delight grew as the journey to the new home progressed. She saw +the fertile farming country stretching far in the big section of +country beyond the water-filled basin; her eyes glowed as the +irrigation ditches, with their locks and gates, came under her +observation; and she sat silent, awed by the mightiness of it allthe +tall, majestic mountains looming somberly many miles distant behind a +glowing mistlike a rose veil or a gauze curtain lowered to partly +conceal the mystic beauty of them. + +Intervening were hills and flats and draws and valleys, and miles and +miles of level grass land, green and peaceful in the shimmering +sunlight that came from somewhere near the center of the big, +pale-blue inverted bowl of sky; she caught the silvery glitter of a +river that wound its way through the country like a monstrous serpent; +she saw dark blotches, miles long, which she knew were forests, for +she could see the spires of trees thrusting upward. But from where she +rode the trees seemed to be no larger than bushes. + +Looking backward, she could see Dawes. Already the buckboard had +traveled two or three miles, but the town seemed near, and she had +quite a shock when she looked back at it and saw the buildings, mere +huddled shanties, spoiling the beauty of her picture. + +A mile or so fartherfour miles altogether, Parsons told herand they +came in sight of a house. She had difficulty restraining her delight +when they climbed out of the buckboard and Parsons told her the place +was to be their permanent home. For it was such a house as she had +longed to live in all the days of her life. + +The first impression it gave her was that of spaciousness. For though +only one story in height, the house contained many rooms. Those, +however, she saw later. + +The exterior was what intrigued her interest at first glance. So far +as she knew, it was the only brick building in the country. She had +seen none such in Dawes. + +There was a big porch across the front; the windows were large; there +were vines and plants thriving in the shade from some big cottonwood +trees near byin fact, the house seemed to have been built in a grove +of the giant trees; there were several outhouses, one of which had +chickens in an enclosure near it; there was a garden, well-kept; and +the girl saw that back of the house ran a little stream which flowed +sharply downward, later to tumble into the big basin far below the +irrigation dam. + +While Parsons was superintending the unloading of the buckboard, +Marion explored the house. It was completely furnished, and her eyes +glowed with pleasure as she inspected it. And when Parsons and the +driver were carrying the baggage in she was outside the house, +standing at the edge of a butte whose precipitous walls descended +sharply to the floor of the irrigation basin, two or three hundred +feet below. She could no longer see the cultivated level, with its +irrigation ditches, but she could see the big dam, a mile or so up the +valley toward Dawes, with the water creeping over it, and the big +valley itself, slumbering in the pure, white light of the morning. + +She went inside, slightly awed, and Parsons, noting her excitement, +smirked at her. She left him and went to her room. Emerging later she +discovered that Parsons was not in the house. She saw him, however, at +a distance, looking out into the valley. + +And then, in the kitchen, Marion came upon the housekeeper, a negro +woman of uncertain age. Parsons had not told her there was to be a +housekeeper. + +The negro woman grinned broadly at her astonishment. + +Lawsey, maam; you jes got to have a housekeeper, I reckon! How you +ever git along without a housekeeper? Youre too fine an dainty to +keep house youself! + +The womans name, the latter told her, was Martha, and there was +honest delightand, it seemed to Marion, downright relief in her eyes +when she looked at the new mistress. + +You aint got no past, thats certain, honey, she declared, with a +delighted smile. The woman that lived here befo had a past, honey. A +man named Huggins lived in this house, an she said shes his wife. +Wife! Lawsey! No man has a wife like that! She had a past, that woman, +an mebbe a present, toohe, he, he! + +He was the man what put the railroad through here, honey. I done hear +the woman sayher name was Blanche, honeythat Huggins was one of them +ultra rich. But whatever it was that ailed him, honey, didnt help his +looks none. Pig-eye, I used to call him, when Ise mad at himwhich +was mostly all the timehe, he, he! + +The girls face whitened. Was she never to escape the atmosphere she +loathed? She shuddered and Martha patted her sympathetically on the +shoulder. + +There, there, honey; you aint sponsible for other folks affairs. +Jes you hold you head up an go about you business. Nobody say +anything to you because you livin here. + +But Marthas words neither comforted nor consoled the girl. She went +again to her room and sat for a long time, looking out of a window. +For now all the cheer had gone out of the house; the rooms looked dull +and drearyand empty, as of something gone out of them. + + + + +CHAPTER VIIICONCERNING SQUINT + + +Marion Harlan had responded eagerly to Carringtons fabrication +regarding the rumor of Lawrence Harlans presence in Dawes. +Carringtons reference to her fathers sojourn in the town had been +vaguehe merely told her that a rumor had reached hima mans word, +without detailsand she had accepted it at its face value. She was +impatient to run the rumor down, to personally satisfy herself, and +she believed Carrington. + +But she spent a fruitless week interrogating people in Dawes. She had +gone to the courthouse, there to pass long hours searching the +recordsand had found nothing. Then, systematically, she had gone from +store to storemaking small purchases and quizzing everyone she came +in contact with. None had known a man named Harlan; it seemed that not +one person in Dawes had ever heard of him. + +Parsons had returned to town in the buckboard shortly after noon on +the day of their arrival at the new house, and she had not seen him +again until the following morning. Then he had told her that +Carrington had gone awayhe did not know where. Carrington would not +return for a week or two, he inferred. + +Parsons had bought some horses. A little bay, short-coupled but wiry, +belonged to her, Parsons saidit was a present from Carrington. + +She hesitated to accept the horse; but the little animal won her +regard by his affectionate mannerisms, and at the end of a day of +doubt and indecision she accepted him. + +She had ridden horses in Westwoodbareback when no one had been +looking, and with a side-saddle at other timesbut she discovered no +side-saddle in Dawes. However, she did encounter no difficulty in +unearthing a riding-habit with a divided skirt, and though she got +into that with a pulse of trepidation and embarrassment, she soon +discovered it to be most comfortable and convenient. + +And Dawes did not stare at her because she rode straddle. At first +she was fearful, and watched Dawess citizens furtively; but when she +saw that she attracted no attention other than would be attracted by +any good-looking young woman in more conventional attire, she felt +more at ease. But she could not help thinking about the sanctimonious +inhabitants of Westwood. Would they not have declared their kindly +predictions vindicated had they been permitted to see her? She could +almost hear the chorus of I-told-you-sosthey rang in her ears over +a distance of many hundreds of miles! + +But the spirit of the young, unfettered country had got into her soul, +and she went her way unmindful of Westwoods opinions. + +For three days she continued her search for tidings of her father, +eager and hopeful; and then for the remainder of the week she did her +searching mechanically, doggedly, with a presentiment of failure to +harass her. + +And then one morning, when she was standing beside her horse near the +stable door, ready to mount and fully determined to pursue the +Carrington rumor to the end, the word she sought was brought to her. + +She saw a horseman coming toward her from the direction of Dawes. He +was not Parsonsfor the rider was short and broad; and besides, +Parsons was spending most of his time in Dawes. + +The girl watched the rider, assured, as he came nearer, that he was a +stranger; and when he turned his horse toward her, and she saw he +_was_ a stranger, she leaned close and whispered to her own animal: + +Oh, Billy; what if it _should_ be! + +An instant later she was watching the stranger dismount within a few +feet of where she was standing. + +He was short and stocky, and undeniably Irish. He was far past middle +age, as his gray hair and seamed wrinkles of his face indicated; but +there was the light of a youthful spirit and good-nature in his eyes +that squinted at the girl with a quizzical interest. + +With the bridle-rein in the crook of his elbow and his hat in his +hand, he bowed elaborately to the girl. + +Would ye be Miss Harlan, maam? he asked. + +Yes, she breathed, her face alight with eagerness, for now since the +man had spoken her name the presentiment of news grew stronger. + +The mans face flashed into a wide, delighted grin and he reached out +a hand, into which she placed one of hers, hardly knowing that she did +it. + +Me names Ben Mullarky, maam. Ive got a little shack down on the +Rabbit-Earwhich is a crick, for all the name some locoed ignoramus +give it. You cud see the shack from here, maamif yed look sharp. + +He pointed out a spot to hera wooded section far out in the big level +country southward, beside the riverand she saw the roof of a building +near the edge of the timber. + +Thats me shack, offered Mullarky. Me ol woman an meself owns +heran a quarter-sectionall proved. We call it seven miles from the +shack to Dawes. Thatd make it about three from here. + +Yes, yes, said the girl eagerly. + +He grinned at her. Comin in to town this mornin for some +knickknacks for me ol woman, I hear from Colemanwho keeps a +storethat theres a fine-lookin girl named Harlan searchin the +country for news of her father, Larry Harlan. I knowed him, maam. + +You did? Oh, how wonderful! She stood erect, breathing fast, her +eyes glowing with mingled joy and impatience. She had not caught the +significance of Mullarkys picturesque past tense, knowed; but when +he repeated it, with just a slight emphasis: + +I _knowed_ him, maam, she drew a quick, full breath and her face +whitened. + +You knew him, she said slowly. Does that mean + +Mullarky scratched his head and looked downward, not meeting her eyes. + +Squint Taylor would tell you the story, maam, he said. You see, +maam, he worked for Squint, an Squint was with him when it +happened. + +Hes dead, then? She stood rigid, tense, searching Mullarkys face +with wide, dreading eyes, and when she saw his gaze shift under hers +she drew a deep sigh and leaned against Billy, covering her face with +her hands. + +Mullarky did not attempt to disturb her; he stood, looking glumly at +her, reproaching himself for his awkwardness in breaking the news to +her. + +It was some minutes before she faced him again, and then she was pale +and composed, except for the haunting sadness that had come into her +eyes. + +Thank you, she said. Can you tell me where I can find Mr. +TaylorSquint, you called him? Is that the Taylor who was elected +mayorlast week? + +The same, maam. He turned and pointed southward, into the big, +level country that she admired so much. + +Do you see that big timber grove way off therewhere the crick +doubles to the northwith that big green patch beyond? She nodded. +Thats Taylors ranchthe Arrow. Youll find him there. Hes a mighty +fine man, maam. Larry Harlan would tell you that if he was here. +Taylor was the best friend that Larry Harlan ever hadout here. He +looked at her pityingly. Im sorry, maam, to be the bearer of ill +news; but when I heard you was in town, lookin for your father, I +couldnt help comin to see you. + +She asked some questions about her fatherwhich Mullarky answered; +though he could tell her nothing that would acquaint her with the +details of her fathers life between the time he had left Westwood and +the day of his appearance in this section of the world. + +Mebbe Taylor will know, maam, he repeated again and again. And +then, when she thanked him once more and mounted her horse, he said: + +Youll be goin to see Squint right away, maam, I suppose. You can +ease your horse right down the slope, here, an strike the level. +Youll find a trail right down there. Youll follow it along the +crick, an itll take you into the Arrow ranchhouse. Itll take you +past me own shack, too; an if youll stop in an tell the ol woman +who you are, shell be tickled to give you a snack an a cup of tea. +She liked Larry herself. + +The girl watched Mullarky ride away. He turned in the saddle, at +intervals, to grin at her. + +Then, when Mullarky had gone she leaned against Billy and stood for a +long time, her shoulders quivering. + +At last, though, she mounted the little animal and sent him down the +slope. + +She found the trail about which Mullarky had spoken, and rode it +steadily; though she saw little of the wild, virgin country through +which she passed, because her brimming eyes blurred it all. + +She came at last to Mullarkys shack, and a stout, motherly woman, +with an ample bosom and a kindly face, welcomed her. + +So youre Larry Harlans daughter, said Mrs. Mullarky, when her +insistence had brought the girl inside the cabin; you poor darlin. +An Ben told youthe blunderin idiot. Hell have a piece of my mind +when he comes back! An youre stoppin at the old Huggins house, eh? +She looked sharply at the girl, and the latters face reddened. +Whereat Mrs. Mullarky patted her shoulder and murmured: + +It aint your fault that theres indacint women in the world; an no +taint of them will ever reach you. But the fools in this world is +always waggin their tongues, associatin whats happened with what +they think will happen. An mebbe theyll wonder about you. Its your +uncle thats there with you, you say? Well, then, dont you worry. You +run right along to see Squint Taylor, now, an find out what he knows +about your father. Taylors a mighty fine man, darlin. + +And so Marion went on her way again, grateful for Mrs. Mullarkys +kindness, but depressed over the knowledge that the atmosphere of +suspicion, which had enveloped her in Westwood, had followed her into +this new country which, she had hoped, would have been more friendly. + +She came in sight of the Arrow ranchhouse presently, and gazed at it +admiringly. It was a big building, of adobe brick, with a wide +porchor galleryentirely surrounding it. It was in the center of a +big space, with timber flanking it on three sides, and at the north +was a green stretch of level that reached to the sloping banks of a +river. + +There were several smaller buildings; a big, fenced enclosurethe +corrals, she supposed; a pasture, and a garden. Everything was in +perfect order, and had it not been for the aroma of the sage that +assailed her nostrils, the awe-inspiring bigness of it all, the sight +of thousands of cattlewhich she could see through the trees beyond +the clearing, she could have likened the place to a big eastern +farmhouse of the better class, isolated and prosperous. + +She dismounted from her horse at a corner of the house, near a door +that opened upon the wide porch, and stood, pale and hesitant, looking +at the door, which was closed. + +And as she stared at the door, it swung inward and Quinton Taylor +appeared in the opening. + + + + +CHAPTER IXA MAN LIES + + +Taylor was arrayed as Marion had mentally pictured him that day when, +in the Pullman, she had associated him with ranches and ranges. +Evidently he was ready to ride, for leather chaps incased his legs. +The chaps were plain, not even adorned with the spangles of the +drawings she had seen; and they were well-worn and shiny in spots. A +pair of big, Mexican spurs were on the heels of his boots; the +inevitable cartridge-belt about his middle, sagging with the heavy +pistol; a quirt dangled from his left hand. Assuredly he belonged in +this environmenthe even seemed to dominate it. + +She had wondered how he would greet her; but his greeting was not at +all what she had feared it would be. For he did not presume upon their +meeting on the train; he gave no sign that he had ever seen her +before; there was not even a glint in his eyes to tell her that he +remembered the scornful look she had given him when she discovered him +listening to the conversation carried on between her uncle and +Carrington. His manner indicated that if _she_ did not care to mention +the matter _he_ would not. His face was grave as he stepped across the +porch and stood before her. And he said merely: + +Are you looking for someone, maam? + +I came to see you, Mr. Taylor, she said. (And then he knew that the +negro porter on the train had not lied when he said the girl had paid +him for certain information.) + +But Taylors face was still grave, for he thought he knew what she had +come for. He had overheard a great deal of the conversation between +Parsons and Carrington in the dining-car, and he remembered such +phrases as: That fairy tale about her father having been seen in this +locality; To get her out here, where there isnt a hell of a lot of +law, and a mans will is the only thing that governs him; and, Then +you lied about Lawrence Harlan having been seen in this country. +Also, he remembered distinctly another phrase, uttered by Carrington: +That you framed up on her mother, to get her to leave Larry. + +All of that conversation was vivid in Taylors mind, and mingled with +the recollection of it now was a grim pity for the girl, for the +hypocritical character of her supposed friends. + +To be sure, the girl did not know that Parsons had lied about her +father having been seen in the vicinity of Dawes; but that did not +alter the fact that Larry Harlan had really been here; and Taylor +surmised that she had made inquiries, thus discovering that there was +truth in Carringtons statement. + +He got a chair for her and seated himself on the porch railing. + +You came to see me? he said, encouragingly. + +I am Marion Harlan, the daughter of Lawrence Harlan, began the girl. +And then she paused to note the effect of her words on Taylor. + +So far as she could see, there was no sign of emotion on Taylors +face. He nodded, looking steadily at her. + +And you are seeking news of your father, he said. Who told you to +come to me? + +A man named Ben Mullarky. He said my father had worked for youthat +you had been his best friend. + +She saw his lips come together in straight lines. + +Poor Larry. You knew he died, Miss Harlan? + +Mullarky told me. The girls eyes moistened. And I should like to +know something about himhow he lived afterafter he left home; +whether he was happyall about him. You see, Mr. Taylor, I loved him! + +And Larry Harlan loved his daughter, said Taylor softly. + +He began to tell her of her father; how several years before Harlan +had come to him, seeking employment; how Larry and himself had formed +a friendship; how they had gone together in search of the gold that +Larry claimed to have discovered in the Sangre de Christo Mountains; +of the injury Larry had suffered, and how the man had died while he +himself had been taking him toward civilization and assistance. + +During the recital, however, one thought dominated him, reddening his +face with visible evidence of the sense of guilt that had seized him. +He must deliberately lie to the daughter of the man who had been his +friend. + +In his pocket at this instant was Larrys note to him, in which the +man had expressed his fear of fortune-hunters. Taylor remembered the +exact words: + +Marion will have considerable money and I dont want no sneak to get +hold of itlike the sneak that got hold of the money my wife had, that +I saved. Theres a lot of them around. If Marion is going to fall in +with one of that kind, Id rather she wouldnt get what I leave; the +man would get it away from her. Use your own judgment and Ill be +satisfied. + +And Taylors judgment was that Carrington and Parsons were +fortune-hunters; that if they discovered the girl to be entitled to a +share of the money that had been received from the sale of the mine, +they would endeavor to convert it to their own use. And Taylor was +determined they should not have it. + +The conversation he had overheard in the dining-car had convinced him +of their utter hypocrisy and selfishness; it had aroused in him a +feeling of savage resentment and disgust that would not permit him to +transfer a cent of the money to the girl as long as they held the +slightest influence over her. + +Again he mentally quoted from Larrys note to him: + +The others were too selfish and sneaking. (That meant Parsonsand one +other.) Squint, I want you to take care of her.... Sellthe minetake +my share and for it give Marion a half-interest in your ranch, the +Arrow. If there is any left, put it in land in Dawesthat town is +going to boom. Guard it for her, and marry her, Squint; shell make +you a good wife. + +Since the first meeting with the girl on the train Taylor had felt an +entire sympathy with Larry Harlan in his expressed desire to have +Taylor marry the girl; in fact, she was the first girl that Taylor had +ever wanted to marry, and the passion in his heart for her had already +passed the wistful stagehe was determined to have her. But that +passion did not lessen his sense of obligation to Larry Harlan. Nor +would itif he could not have the girl himselfprevent him doing what +he could to keep her from forming any sort of an alliance with the +sort of man Larry had wished to save her from, as expressed in this +passage of the note: If Marion is going to fall in with one of that +kind, Id rather she wouldnt get what I leave. + +Therefore, since Taylor distrusted Carrington and Parsons, he had +decided he would not tell the girl of the money her father had +leftthe share of the proceeds of the mine. He would hold it for her, +as a sacred trust, until the time cameif it ever camewhen she would +have discovered their faithlessnessor until she needed the money. +More, he was determined to expose the men. + +He knew, thanks to his eavesdropping on the train, at least something +regarding the motives that had brought them to Dawes; Carringtons +words, When we get hold of the reins, had convinced him that they +and the interests behind them were to endeavor to rob the people of +Dawes. That was indicated by their attempt to have David Danforth +elected mayor of the town. + +Taylor had already decided that he could not permit Marion to see the +note her father had left, for he did not want her to feel that she was +under any obligationparental or otherwiseto marry him. If he won her +at all, he wanted to win her on his merits. + +As a matter of fact, since he had decided to lie about the money, he +was determined to say nothing about the note at all. He would keep +silent, making whatever explanations that seemed to be necessary, +trusting to time and the logical sequence of events for the desired +outcome. + +He was forced to begin to lie at once. When he had finished the story +of Larrys untimely death, the girl looked straight at him. + +Then you were with him when he died. Diddid he mention anyonemy +motheror me? + +He said: Squint, there is a daughterTaylor was quoting from the +noteshe was fifteen when I saw her last. She looked just like +methank God for that! Taylor blushed when he saw the girls face +redden, for he knew what her thoughts were. He should not have quoted +that sentence. He resolved to be more careful; and went on: He told +me I was to take care of you, to offer you a home at the Arrowafter I +found you. I was to go to Westwood, Illinois, to find you. I suppose +he wanted me to bring you here. + +The speech was entirely unworthy, and Taylor knew it, and he eased his +conscience by adding: He thought, I suppose, that you would like to +be where he had been. Ive not touched the room he had. All his +effects are thereeverything he owned, just as he left them. I had +given him a room in the house because I liked him (that was the +truth), and I wanted him where I could talk to him. + +I cannot thank you enough for that! she said earnestly. And then +Taylor was forced to lie again, for she immediately asked: And the +mine? It proved to be worthless, I suppose. For, she added, that +would be just fathers luck. + +The mine wasnt what we thought it would be, said Taylor. He was +looking at his boots when he spoke, and he wondered if his face was as +red as it felt. + +I am not surprised. There was no disappointment in her voice, and +therefore Taylor knew she was not avariciousthough he knew he had not +expected her to be. Then he left nothing but his personal +belongings? she added. + +Taylor nodded. + +The girl sat for a long time, looking out over the river into the vast +level that stretched away from it. + +He has ridden there, I suppose, she said wistfully. He was here for +nearly three years, you said. Then he must have been everywhere around +here. And she got up, gazing about her, as though she would firmly +fix the locality for future reminiscent dreams. Then suddenly she +said: + +I should like to see his roommay I? + +You sure can! + +She followed him into the house, and he stood in the open doorway, +watching her as she went from place to place, looking at Larrys +effects. + +Taylor did not remain long at the door; he went out upon the porch +again, leaving her in the room, and after a long time she joined him, +her eyes moist, but a smile on her lips. + +Youll leave his things therea little longer, wont you? I should +like to have them, and I shall come for them, some day. + +Sure, he said. But, look here, Miss Harlan. Why should you take his +things? Leave them hereand come yourself. That room is yours, if you +say the word. And a half-interest in the ranch. I was going to offer +your father an interest in itif he had lived + +He realized his mistake when he saw her eyes widen incredulously. And +there was a change in her voiceit was full of doubt, of distrust +almost. + +What had father done to deserve an interest in your ranch? she +demanded. + +Why, he answered hesitatingly, its rather hard to say. But he +helped me much; he suggested improvements that made the place more +valuable; he was a good man, and he took a great deal of the work off +my mindand I liked him, he finished lamely. + +And do you think I could do his share of the work? she interrogated, +looking at him with an odd smile, the meaning of which Taylor could +not fathom. + +I couldnt expect that, of course, he said boldly; but I owe Harlan +something for what he did for me, and I thought + +You thought you would be charitable to the daughter, she finished +for him, with a smile in which there was gratitude and understanding. + +I am sure I cant thank you enough for feeling that way toward my +father and myself. But I cant accept, you know. + +Taylor did know, of course. A desperate desire to make amends for his +lying, to force upon her gratuitously what he had illegally robbed her +of, had been the motive underlying his offer. And he would have been +disappointed had she accepted, for that would have revealed a lack of +spirit which he had hoped she possessed. + +And yet Taylor felt decidedly uncomfortable over the refusal. He +wanted her to have what belonged to her, for he divined from the note +her father had left that she would have need of it. + +He discovered by judicious questioning, by inference, and through +crafty suggestion, that she was entirely dependent upon her uncle; +that her uncle had bought the Huggins house, and that Carrington had +made her a present of the horse she rode. + +This last bit of information, volunteered by Marion, provoked Taylor +to a rage that made him grit his teeth. + +A little while longer they talked, and when the girl mounted her horse +to ride away, they had entered into an agreement under which on +Tuesdays and Fridaysthe first Tuesday falling on the following +dayTaylor was to be absent from the ranch. And during his absence the +girl was to come and stay at the ranchhouse, there to occupy her +fathers room and, if she desired, to enter the other rooms at will. + +As a concession to propriety, she was to bring Martha, the Huggins +housekeeper, with her. + +But Taylor, after the girl had left, stood for an hour on the porch, +watching the dust-cloud that followed the girls progress through the +big basin, his face red, his soul filled with loathing for the part +his judgment was forcing him to play. But arrayed against the loathing +was a complacent satisfaction aroused over the thought that Carrington +would never get the money that Larry Harlan had left to the girl. + + + + +CHAPTER XTHE FRAME-UP + + +James J. Carrington was unscrupulous, but even his most devout enemy +could not have said that he lacked vision and thoroughness. And, while +he had been listening to Danforth in his apartment in the Castle +Hotel, he had discovered that Neil Norton had made a technical blunder +in electing Quinton Taylor mayor of Dawes. Perhaps that was why +Carrington had not seemed to be very greatly disturbed over the +knowledge that Danforth had been defeated; certainly it was why +Carrington had taken the first train to the capital. + +Carrington was tingling with elation when he reached the capital; but +on making inquiries he found that the governor had left the city the +day before, and that he was not expected to return for several days. + +Carrington passed the interval renewing some acquaintances, and fuming +with impatience in the barroom, the billiard-room, and the lobby of +his hotel. + +But he was the first visitor admitted to the governors office when +the latter returned. + +The governor was a big man, flaccid and portly, and he received +Carrington with a big Stetson set rakishly on the back of his head and +an enormous black cigar in his mouth. That he was not a statesman but +a professional politician was quite as apparent from his appearance as +was his huge, welcoming smile, a certain indication that he was on +terms of intimate friendship with Carrington. Formerly an eastern +political worker, and a power in the councils of his party, his +appointment as governor of the Territory had come, not because of his +ability to fill the position, but as a reward for the delivery of +certain votes which had helped to make his party successful at the +polls. He would be the last carpetbag governor of the Territory, for +the Territory had at last been admitted to the Union; the new +Legislature was even then in session; charters were already being +issued to municipalities that desired self-governmentand the +governor, soon to quit his position as temporary chief, had no real +interest in the new rgime, and no desire to aid in eliminating the +inevitable confusion. + +Take a seat, Jim, he invited, and have a cigar. My secretary tells +me youve been buzzing around here like a bee lost from the hive, for +the past week. He grinned hugely at Carrington, poking the latter +playfully in the ribs as Carrington essayed to light the cigar that +had been given him. + +Worried about that man Taylor, in Dawes, eh? he went on, as +Carrington smoked. Well, it _was_ too bad that Danforth didnt trim +him, wasnt it? Butand his eyes narrowedIm still governor, and +Taylor isnt mayor yetand never will be! + +Carrington smiled. You saw the mistake, too, eh? + +Saw it! boomed the governor. Ive been watching that town as a cat +watches a mouse. Itching for the clean-up, Jim, he whispered. Why, +Ive got the papers all made outousting him and appointing Danforth +mayor. Right here they are. He reached into a pigeon-hole and drew +out some legal papers. You can serve them yourself. Just hand them to +Judge Littlefieldhell do the rest. Its likelyif Taylor starts a +fuss, that youll have to help Littlefield handle the casearranging +for deputies, and such. If you need any more help, just wire me. I +dont pack my carpetbag for a year yet, and we can do a lot of work in +that time. + +Carrington and the governor talked for an hour or more, and when +Carrington left for the office he was grinning with pleasurable +anticipation. For a municipality, already sovereign according to the +laws of the people, had been delivered into his hands. + +Just at dusk on Tuesday evening Carrington alighted from the train at +Dawes. He went to his rooms in the Castle, removed the stains of +travel, descended the stairs to the dining-room, and ate heartily; +then, stopping at the cigar-counter to light a cigar, he inquired of +the clerk where he could find Judge Littlefield. + +Hes got a house right next to the courthouseon your left, from +here, the clerk told him. + +A few minutes later Carrington was seated opposite Judge Littlefield, +with a table between them, in the front room of the judges residence. + +My name is CarringtonJames J., was Carringtons introduction of +himself. I have just left the governor, and he gave me these, to hand +over to you. He shoved over the papers the governor had given him, +smiling slightly at the other. + +The judge answered the smile with a beaming smirk. + +Ive heard of you, he said; the governor has often spoken of you. +He glanced hastily over the papers, and his smirk widened. The good +people of Dawes will be rather shocked over this decision, I suppose. +But laymen _will_ confuse thingswont they? Now, if Norton and his +friends had come to _me_ before they decided to enter Taylors name, +this thing would not have happened. + +Im glad it _did_ happen, laughed Carrington. The chances are that +even Norton would have beaten Danforth, and then the governor could +not have interfered. + +Carringtons gaze became grim as he looked at the judge. You are +prepared to go the limit in this case, I suppose? he interrogated. +There is a chance that Taylor and his friends will attempt to make +trouble. But any trouble is to be handled firmly, you understand. +There is to be no monkey business. If they accept the laws mandates, +as all law-abiding citizens should accept it, all well and good. And +if they dontand they want trouble, well give them that! +Understand? + +Perfectly, smiled the judge. The law is not to be assailed. + +Smilingly he bowed Carrington out. + +Carrington took a turn down the street, walking until his cigar burned +itself out; then he entered the hotel and sat for a time in the lobby. +Then he went to bed, satisfied that he had done a good weeks work, +and conscious that he had launched a heavy blow at the man for whom he +had conceived a great and bitter hatred. + + + + +CHAPTER XINO FUN FOOLING HER + + +Accompanied by Martha, who rode one of the horses Parsons had bought, +Marion Harlan began her trip to the Arrow shortly after dawn. + +The girl had said nothing to Parsons regarding her meeting with Taylor +the previous day, nor of her intention to pass the day at the Arrow. +For she feared that Parsons might make some objectionand she wanted +to go. + +That she feared her uncles deterrent influence argued that she was +aware that she was doing wrong in going to the Arroweven with Martha +as chaperon; but that was, perhaps, the very reason the thought of +going engaged her interest. + +She wondered many times, as she rode, with the negro woman trailing +her, if there was not inherent in her some of those undesirable traits +concerning which the good people of Westwood had entertained fears. + +The thought crimsoned her cheeks and brightened her eyes; but she knew +she had no vicious thoughtsthat she was going to the Arrow, not +because she wanted to see Taylor again, but because she wanted to sit +in the room that had been occupied by her father. She wanted to look +again at his belongings, to feel his former presenceas she had felt +it while gazing out over the vast level beyond the river, where he had +ridden many times. + +She looked in on Mrs. Mullarky as they passed the Mullarky cabin, and +when the good woman learned of her proposed visit to the Arrow, she +gave her entire approval. + +I dont blame you, darlin, declared Mrs. Mullarky. Let the world +jabberif it wants to. If it was me father that had been over there, +Id stay there, takin Squint Taylor at his wordan divvle a bit Id +care what the world would say about it! + +So Marion rode on, slightly relieved. But the crimson stain was still +on her cheeks when she and Martha dismounted at the porch, and she +looked fearfully around, half-expecting that Taylor would appear from +somewhere, having tricked her. + +But Taylor was nowhere in sight. A fat man appeared from somewhere in +the vicinity of the stable, doffed his hat politely, informed her that +he was the stable boss and would care for the horses; he having been +delegated by Taylor to perform whatever service Miss Harlan desired; +and ambled off, leading the horses, leaving the girl and Martha +standing near the edge of the porch. + +Marion entered the house with a strange feeling of guilt and shame. +Standing in the open doorwaywhere she had seen Taylor standing when +she had dismounted the day beforeshe was afflicted with regret and +mortification over her coming. It wasnt right for a girl to do as she +was doing; and for an instant she hesitated on the verge of flight. + +But Marthas voice directly behind her, reassured her. + +They aint a soul here, honeynot a soul. Youve got the whole house +to yoself. This am a larkshuah enough. He, he, he! + +It was the voice of the temptressand Marion heeded it. With a defiant +toss of her head she entered the room, took off her hat, laid it on a +convenient table, calmly telling Martha to do the same. Then she went +boldly from one room to another, finally coming to a halt in the +doorway of the room that had been occupied by her father. + +For her that room seemed to hallow the place. It was as though her +father were here with her; as though there were no need of Martha +being here with her. The thought of it removed any stigma that might +have been attached to her coming; it made her heedless of the opinion +of the world and its gossip-mongers. + +She forgot the world in her interest, and for more than an hour, with +Martha sitting in a chair sympathetically watching her, she reveled in +the visible proofs of her fathers occupancy of the room. + +Later she and Martha went out on the porch, where, seated in +rocking-chairsthat had not been on the porch the day beforeshe +filled her mental vision with pictures of her fathers life at the +Arrow. Those pictures were imaginary, but they were intensely +satisfying to the girl who had loved her father, for she could almost +see him moving about her. + +You shuah does look soft an dreamy, honey, Martha told her once. +You looks jes like a delicate ghost. A while ago, lookin at you, I +shuah was scared you was goin to blow away! + +But Marion was not the ethereal wraith that Martha thought her. She +proved that a little later, when, with the negro woman abetting her, +she went into the house and prepared dinner. For she ate so heartily +that Martha was forced to amend her former statement. + +For a ghost you shuah does eat plenty, honey, she said. + +Later they were out on the porch again. The big level on the other +side of the river was flooded with a slumberous sunshine, with the +glowing, rose haze of early afternoon enveloping it, and the girl was +enjoying it when there came an interruption. + +A cowboy emerged from a building down near the corralMarion learned +later that the building was the bunkhouse, which meant that it was +used as sleeping-quarters for the Arrow outfitand walked, with the +rolling stride so peculiar to his kind, toward the porch. + +He was a tall young man, red of face, and just now affected with a +mighty embarrassment, which was revealed in the awkward manner in +which he removed his hat and shuffled his feet as he came to a halt +within a few feet of Marion. + +The boss wants to know how you are gettin along, maam, an if +theres anything youre wantin? + +We are enjoying ourselves immensely, thank you; and there is nothing +we wantparticularly. + +The puncher had turned to go before the girl thought of the +significance of the boss. + +Her face was a trifle pale as she called to the puncher. + +Who is your bossif you please? she asked. + +The puncher wheeled, a slow grin on his face. + +Why, Squint Taylor, maam. + +She sat erect. Do you mean that Mr. Taylor is here? + +Hes in the bunkhouse, maam. + +She got up, and, holding her head very erect, began to walk toward the +room in which she had left her hat. + +But half-way across the porch the punchers voice halted her: + +Squint was sayin you didnt expect him to be here, an that Id have +to do the explainin. He couldnt come, you see. + +Ashamed, I suppose, she said coldly. + +She was facing the puncher now, and she saw him grin. + +Why, no, maam; I dont reckon hes a heap ashamed. But itd be +mighty inconvenient for him. You see, maam, this mornin, when he was +gittin ready to ride to the south line, his cayuse got an ornery +streak an throwed him, sprainin Squints ankle. + +The girls emotions suddenly reacted; the resentment she had yielded +to became self-reproach. For she had judged hastily, and she had +always felt that one had no right to judge hastily. + +And Taylor had been remarkably considerate; for he had not even +permitted her to know of the accident until after noon. That indicated +that he had no intention of forcing himself on her. + +She hesitated, saw Martha grinning into a hand, looked at the +punchers expressionless face, and felt that she had been rather +prudish. Her cheeks flushed with color. + +Taylor had actually been a martyr on a small scale in confining +himself to the bunkhouse, when he could have enjoyed the comforts and +spaciousness of the ranchhouse if it had not been for her own +presence. + +Isis his ankle badly sprained? she hesitatingly asked the now +sober-faced puncher. + +Kind of bad, maam; he aint been able to do no walkin on it. Been +hobblin an swearin, mostly, maam. Its sure a trial to be near +him. + +And it is warm here; it must be terribly hot in that little place! + +She was at the edge of the porch now, her face radiating sympathy. + +I am not surprised that he should swear! she told the puncher, who +grinned and muttered: + +Hes sure first class at it, maam. + +Why, she said, paying no attention to the punchers compliment of +his employer, he is hurt, and I have been depriving him of his house. +You tell him to come right out of that stuffy place! Help him to come +here! + +And without waiting to watch the puncher depart, she darted into the +house, pulled a big rocker out on the porch, got a pillow and arranged +it so that it would form a resting-place for the injured mans +headproviding he decided to occupy the chair, which she doubtedand +then stood on the edge of the porch, awaiting his appearance. + +Inside the bunkhouse the puncher was grinning at Taylor, who, with his +right foot swathed in bandages, was sitting on a bench, anxiously +awaiting the delivery of the punchers message. + +Well, talk, you damned grinning inquisitor! was Taylors greeting to +the puncher. What did she say? + +At first she didnt seem to be a heap overjoyed to know that you was +in this country, said the other; but when she heard youd been hurt +she sort of stampeded, invitin you to come an set on the porch with +her. + +Taylor got up and started for the door, the bandaged foot dragging +clumsily. + +Shucks, drawled the puncher; if you go to _runnin_ to her shell +have suspicions. Accordin to my notion, she expects you to come a +hobblin, same as though your leg was broke. Help him to come, she +told me. An youre goin that wayyou hear me! Ill bust your ankle +with a club before Ill have her think Im a liar! + +Maybe I _was_ a little eager, grinned Taylor. + +An instant later he stepped out of the bunkhouse door, leaning heavily +on the punchers shoulder. + +The two made slow progress to the porch; and Taylors ascent to the +porch and his final achievement of the rocking-chair were accomplished +slowly, with the assistance of Miss Harlan. + +Then, with a face almost the color of the scarlet neckerchief he wore, +Taylor watched the retreat of the puncher. + +His face became redder when Miss Harlan drew another rocker close to +his and demanded to be told the story of the accident. + +My own fault, declared Taylor. I was in a hurry. Accidents always +happen that way, dont they? Slipped trying to swing on my horse, with +him running. Missed the stirrup. Clumsy, wasnt it? + +Eager to keep his word, of course, Marion reasoned. She had insisted +that he be gone when she arrived, and he had injured himself hurrying. + +She watched him as he talked of the accident. And now for the first +time she understood why he had acquired the nickname Squint. + +His eyes were deep-set, though not small. He did not really squint, +for there was plenty of room between the eyelidswhich, by the way, +were fringed with lashes that might have been the envy of any woman; +but there were many little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, which +spread fanwise toward cheek and brow, and these created the illusion +of squinting. + +Also, he had a habit of partially closing his eyes when looking +directly at one; and at such times they held a twinkling glint that +caused one to speculate over their meaning. + +Miss Harlan was certain the twinkle meant humor. But other persons had +been equally sure the twinkle meant other emotions, or passion. +Looking into Taylors eyes in the dining-car, Carrington had decided +they were filled with cold, implacable hostility, with the promise of +violence, to himself. And yet the squint had not been absent. + +Whatever had been expressed in the eyes had been sufficient to deter +Carrington from his announced purpose to knock hell out of their +owner. + +The girl was aware that Taylor was not handsome; that his attractions +were not of a surface character. Something about him struck deeper +than that. A subtle magnetism gripped herthe magnetism of strength, +moral and mental. In his eyes she could see the signs of it; in the +lines of his jaw and the set of his lips were suggestions of +indomitability and force. + +All the visible signs were, however, glossed over with the deep, slow +humor that radiated from him, that glowed in his eyes. + +It all made her conscious of a great similarity between them; for +despite the doubts and suspicions of the people of Westwood, she had +been able to surviveand humor had been the grace that had saved her +from disappointment and pessimism. Those other traits in +Taylorvisible to one who studied himshe knew for her own; and her +spirits now responded to his. + +Her cheeks were glowing as she looked at him, and her eyes, half +veiled by the drooping lashes, were dancing with mischief. + +You were in that hot bunkhouse all morning, she said. Why didnt +you send word before? + +You were careful to tell me that you didnt want me around when you +came. + +There was a gleam of reproach in his eyes. + +But you were injured! + +Look how things go in the world, he invited, narrowing his eyes at +her. Its almost enough to make a man let go all holds and just drift +along. Maybe a man would be just as well off. + +Early this morning I knew I had to light out for the day, and I +didnt want to go any more than a gopher wants to go into a +rattlesnakes den. But I had to keep my word. Then Spotted Tail gets +notions + +Spotted Tail? she interrupted. + +My horse, he grinned at her. He gets notions. Maybe he wants to get +away as much as I want to stay. Anyhow, he was in a hurry; and things +shape up so that Ive got to stay. + +And then, when I hang around the bunkhouse all morning, worrying +because Im afraid youll find out that I didnt keep my word, and +that Im still here, you send word that youll not object to me coming +on the porch with you. Id call that a misjudgment all aroundon my +part. + +Yesit was that, she told him. You certainly are entitled to the +comforts of your own houseespecially when you are hurt. But are you +sure you _worried_ because you were afraid I would discover you were +here? + +I expect you can prove that by looking at me, Miss Harlannoticing +that Ive got thin and pale-looking since you saw me last? + +She threw a demure glance at him. I am afraid you are in great +danger; you do not look nearly as well as when I saw you, the first +time, on the train. + +He looked gravely at her. + +The porter threw them out of the window, he said. That is, I gave +him orders to. + +What? she said, perplexed. I dont understand. What did the porter +throw out of the window? + +My dude clothes, he said. + +So he _had_ observed the ridicule in her eyes. + +She met his gaze, and both laughed. + +He had been curious about her all along, and he artfully questioned +her about Westwood, gradually drawing from her the rather unexciting +details of her life. Yet these details were chiefly volunteered, +Taylor noticed, and did not result entirely from his questions. + +Carringtons name came into the discussion, also, and Parsons. Taylor +discovered that Carrington and Parsons had been partners in many +business deals, and that they had come to Dawes because the town +offered many possibilities. The girl quoted Carringtons words; Taylor +was convinced that she knew nothing of the character of the business +the men had come to Dawes to transact. + +Their talk strayed to minor subjects and to those of great importance, +ranging from a discussion of prairie hens to sage comment upon certain +abstruse philosophy. Always, however, the personal note was dominant +and the personal interest acute. + +That atmospherethe deep interest of each for the othermade their +conversation animated. For half the time the girl paid no attention to +Taylors words. She watched him when he talked, noting the various +shades of expression of his eyes, the curve of his lips, wondering at +the deep music of his voice. She marveled that at first she had +thought him uninteresting and plain. + +For she had discovered that he was rather good-looking; that he was +endowed with a natural instinct to reach accurate and logical +conclusions; that he was quiet-mannered and politeand a gentleman. +Her first impressions of him had not been correct, for during their +talk she discovered through casual remarks, that Taylor had been +educated with some care, that his ancestors were of that sturdy +American stock which had made the settling of the eastern New-World +wilderness possible, and that there was in his manner the unmistakable +gentleness of good breeding. + +However, Taylors first impressions of the girl had endured without +amendations. At a glance he had yielded to the spell of her, and the +intimate and informal conversation carried on between them; the +flashes of personality he caught merely served to convince him of her +desirability. + +Twice during their talk Martha cleared her throat significantly and +loudly, trying to attract their attention. + +The efforts bore no fruit, and Martha might have been entirely +forgotten if she had not finally got to her feet and laid a hand on +Marions shoulder. + +Is gwine to lie down a spell, honey, she said. You-all dont need +no third party to entertain you. An Is powerful tiahd. And over the +girls shoulder she smiled broadly and sympathetically at Taylor. + +The sun was filling the western level with a glowing, golden haze when +Miss Harlan got to her feet and announced that she was going home. + +Its the first day I have really enjoyed, she told Taylor as she sat +in the saddle, looking at him. He had got up and was standing at the +porch edge. That is, it is the first enjoyable day I have passed +since I have been here, she added. + +I wouldnt say that Ive been exactly bored myself, he grinned at +her. But Im not so sure about Friday; for if you come Friday the +chances are that my ankle will be well again, and Ill have to make +myself scarce. You see, my excuse will be gone. + +Martha was sitting on her horse close by, and her eyes were dancing. + +Don you go an bust your haid, Mr. Taylor! she warned. I knows +somebuddy that would be powerful sorry if that would happen to you! + +Martha! said Marion severely. But her eyes were eloquent as they met +Taylors twinkling ones; and she saw a deep color come into Taylors +cheeks. + +Taylor watched her until she grew dim in the distance; then he turned +and faced the tall young puncher, who had stepped upon the porch and +had been standing near. + +The puncher grinned. Takin em off now, boss? he asked. + +He pointed to the bandages on Taylors right foot. In one of the young +punchers hands was Taylors right boot. + +Yes, returned Taylor. + +He sat down in the rocker he had occupied all afternoon, and the young +puncher removed the bandages, revealing Taylors bare foot and ankle, +with no bruise or swelling to mar the white skin. + +Taylor drew on the sock which the puncher drew from the boot; then he +pulled on the boot and stood up. + +The puncher was grinning hugely, but no smile was on Taylors face. + +It worked, boss, said the puncher; she didnt tumble. I thought Id +laff my head off when I seen her fixin the pillow for youan your +foot not hurt more than mine. You ought to be plumb tickled, pullin +off a trick like that! + +I aint a heap tickled, declared Taylor glumly. Theres no fun in +fooling _her_! + +Which indicated that Taylors thoughts were now serious. + + + + +CHAPTER XIILIFTING THE MASK + + +Elam Parsons awoke early in the morning following that on which Marion +Harlans visit to the Arrow occurred. He lay for a long time smiling +at the ceiling, with a feeling that something pleasurable was in store +for him, but not able to determine what that something was. + +It was not long, however, before Parsons remembered. + +When he had got out of bed the previous morning he had discovered the +absence of Marion and Martha. Also, he found that two of the horses +were missingMarions, and one of the others he had personally bought. + +Parsons spent the day in Dawes. Shortly before dusk he got on his +horse and rode homeward. Dismounting at the stable, he noted that the +two absent horses had not come in. He grinned disagreeably and went +into the house. He emerged almost instantly, for Marion and Martha had +not returned. + +Later he saw them, Marion leading, coming up the slope that led to the +level upon which the house stood. + +Marion had retired early, and after she had gone to her room Parsons +had questioned Martha. + +Twice while getting into his clothes this morning Parsons chuckled +audibly. There was malicious amusement in the sound. + +Once he caught himself saying aloud: + +I knew it would come, sooner or later. And shes picked out the +clodhopper! This will tickle Carrington! + +Again he laughedsuch a laugh as the good people of Westwood might +have used had they known what Parsons knewthat Marion Harlan had +visited a stranger at his ranchhousea lonely place, far from prying +eyes. + +Parsons hated the girl as heartily as he had hated her father. He +hated her because of her close resemblance to her parent; and he had +hated Larry Harlan ever since their first meeting. + +Parsons likewise had no affection for Carrington. They had been +business associates for many years, and their association had been +profitable for both; but there was none of that respect and admiration +which marks many partnerships. + +On several occasions Carrington had betrayed greediness in the +division of the spoils of their ventures. But Carrington was the +strong man, ruthless and determined, and Parsons was forced to nurse +his resentment in silence. He meant some day, however, to repay +Carrington, and he lost no opportunity to harass him. And yet it had +been Parsons who had brought Carrington to Westwood two years before. +He knew Carrington; he knew something of the big mans way with women, +of his merciless treatment of them. And he had invited Carrington to +Westwood, hoping that the big man would add Marion Harlan to his list +of victims. + +So far, Carrington had made little progress. This fact, contrary to +Parsons principles, had afforded the man secret enjoyment. He liked +to see Carrington squirm under disappointment. He anticipated much +pleasure in watching Carringtons face when he should tell him where +Marion had been the day before. + +He breakfasted aloneearlychuckling his joy. And shortly after he +left the table he was on a horse, riding toward Dawes. + +He reached town about eight and went directly to Carringtons rooms in +the Castle. + +Carrington had shaved and washed, and was sitting at a front window, +coatless, his hair uncombed, when Parsons knocked on the door. + +Youre back, eh? said Parsons as he took a chair near the window. +Danforth was telling me you went to see the governor. Did you fix +it? + +Carrington grinned. Taylor was to take the oath today. He wont take +itat least, not the sort of oath he expected. + +Its lucky you knew the governor. + +H-m. The grim grunt indicated that, governor or no governor, +Carrington would not be denied. + +Parsons smirked. But Carrington detected an unusual quality in the +smirksomething more than satisfaction over the success of the visit +to the governor. There was malicious amusement in the smirk, and +anticipation. Parsons expressed satisfaction was not over what _had_ +happened, but over what was _going_ to happen. + +Carrington knew Parsons, and therefore Carrington gave no sign of what +he had seen in Parsons face. He talked of Dawes and of their own +prospects. But once, when Carrington mentioned Marion Harlan, quite +casually, he noted that Parsons eyes widened. + +But Parsons said nothing on the subject which had brought him until he +had talked for half an hour. Then, noting that his manner had aroused +Carringtons interest, he said softly: + +This man, Taylor, seems destined to get in your way, doesnt he? + +What do you mean? demanded Carrington shortly. + +Do you remember telling meon the train, with this man, Taylor, +listeningthat your story to Marion, of her father having been seen in +this locality, was a fairy talewithout foundation? + +At Carringtons nod Parsons continued: + +Well, it seems it was not a fairy tale, after all. For Larry Harlan +was in his section for two or three years! + +Who told you that? Carrington slid forward in his chair and was +looking hard at Parsons. + +Parsons was enjoying the others astonishment, and Parsons was not to +be hurriedhe wanted to _taste_ the flavor of his news; it was as good +to his palate as a choice morsel of food to the palate of a disciple +of Epicurus. + +It came in a sort of roundabout way, I understand, said Parsons. It +seems that during your absence Marion made a number of inquiries about +her father. Then a man named Ben Mullarky rode over to the house and +told her that Larry had been in this countrythat he had worked for +the Arrow. + +Thats Taylors ranch, said Carrington. A deep scowl furrowed his +forehead; his lips extended in a sullen pout. + +Parsons was enjoying him. Taylor again, eh? he said softly. First, +he appears on the train, where he gets an earful of something we dont +want him to hear; then he is elected mayor, which is detrimental to +our interests; then we discover that Larry Harlan worked for him. +_Youll_ be interested to know that Marion went right over to the +Arrowin fact, she spent part of Monday there, and practically _all_ +of yesterday. More, Taylor has invited her to come whenever she wants +to. + +She went alone? demanded Carrington. + +With Martha, my negro housekeeper. But that Parsons made a gesture +of derision and went on: Martha says Taylor was there with her, and +that the two of themwith Martha asleep in the housespent the entire +afternoon on the porch, talking rather intimately. + +To Parsons surprise Carrington did not betray the perturbation +Parsons expected. The scowl was still furrowing his forehead, his lips +were still in the sullen pout; but he said nothing, looking steadily +at Parsons. + +At last his lips moved slightly; Parsons could see the clenched teeth +between them. + +Wheres Larry Harlan now? + +Parsons related the story told him by Marthawhich had been imparted +to the negro woman by Marion in confidencethat Larry Harlan had been +accidentally killed, searching for a mine. + +When Parsons finished Carrington got up. There was a grin on his face +as he stepped to where Parsons sat and placed his two hands heavily on +the others shoulders. + +There was a grin on his face, but his eyes were agleam with a +slumbering passion that made Parsons catch his breath with a gasp. And +his voice, low, and freighted with menace, caused Parsons to quake +with terror. + +Parsons, he said, I want you to understand this: I am going to be +the law out here. Ill run things to suit myself. Ill have no +half-hearted loyalty, and Ill destroy any man who opposes me! Those +who are not with me to the last gasp are against me! He laughed, and +Parsons felt the mans hot breath on his faceso close was it to his +own. + +I was born a thousand years too late, Parsons! he went on. I am a +robber baron brought down to datemodernized. I believe that in me +flows the blood of a pirate, a savage, or an ancient king; I have all +the instincts of a tribal chief whose principles are to rule or ruin! +Ill have no law out here but my own desires; and hypocrisyin +othersdoesnt appeal to me! + +Youve told me a tale that interested me, but in the telling of it +you made one mistakeyou enjoyed the discomfiture you thought it would +give me. You tingled with malice. Just to show you that Ill not +tolerate disloyalty from youeven in thoughtIm going to punish you. + +He dropped his big hands to Parsons throat, shutting off the +incipient scream that issued from between the mans lips. Parsons +fought with all his strength to escape the grip of the iron fingers at +his throat, twisting and squirming frenziedly in the chair. But the +fingers tightened their grip, and when the mans face began to turn +blue-black, Carrington released him and looked down at his victim, +laughing vibrantly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIIITHE SHADOW OF TROUBLE + + +Elam recovered slowly, for Carrington had choked him into +unconsciousness. Out of the blank, dark coma Parsons came, his brain +reeling, his body racked with agonizing pains. His hands went to his +throat before he could open his eyes; he pulled at the flesh to ease +the constriction that still existed there; he caught his breath in +great gasps that shrilled through the room. And when at last he +succeeded in getting his breath to come regularly, he opened his eyes +and saw Carrington seated in a chair near him, watching him with a +cold, speculative smile. + +He heard Carringtons voice saying: Pretty close, wasnt it, +Parsons? But he did not answer; his vocal cords were still partially +paralyzed. + +He closed his eyes again and stretched out in the chair. Carrington +thought he had fainted, but Parsons was merely restingand thinking. + +His thoughts were not pleasant. Many times during the years of their +association he had seen the beast in Carringtons eyes, but this was +the first time Carrington had even shown it in his presence, naked and +ugly. Carrington had told him many times that were he not hemmed in +with laws and courts he would tramp ruthlessly over every obstacle +that got in his way; and Parsons knew now that the man had meant what +he said. The beast in him was rampant; his passions were to have free +rein; he had thrown off the shackles of civilization and was prepared +to do murder to attain his aims. + +Parsons realized his own precarious predicament. Carrington controlled +every cent Parsons ownedit was in the common pool, which was in +Carringtons charge. Parsons might leave Dawes, but his money must +stayCarrington would never give it up. More, Parsons was now afraid +to ask for an accounting or a division, for fear Carrington would kill +him. + +Parsons knew he must stay in Dawes, and that from now on he must play +lackey to the master who, at last in an environment that suited him, +had so ruthlessly demonstrated his principles. + +In a spirit of abject surrender Parsons again opened his eyes and sat +up. Carrington rose and again stood over him. + +You understand now, Parsons, Im running things. You stay in the +background. If you interfere with me Ill kill you. Ill kill you if +you laugh at me again. Your job out here is to take care of Marion +Harlan. Youre to keep her here. If she gets away Ill manhandle you! +Now get out of here! + +An hour later Parsons was sitting on the front porch of the big house, +staring vacantly out into the big level below him, his heart full of +hatred and impotent resentment; his brain, formerly full of craft and +guile, now temporarily atrophied through its attempts to comprehend +the new character of the man who had throttled him. + +In Dawes, Carrington was getting into his clothing. He was smiling, +his eyes glowing with grim satisfaction. At nine oclock Carrington +descended the stairs, stopped in the hotel lobby to light a cigar; +then crossed the street and went into the courthouse, where he was +greeted effusively by Judge Littlefield. Quinton Taylor, too, was +going to the courthouse. + +This morning at ten oclock, according to information received from +Neil Nortonsent to Taylor by messenger the night beforeTaylor was to +take the oath of office. + +Taylor was conscious of the honor bestowed upon him by the people of +Dawes, though at first he had demurred, pointing out that he was not +actually a resident of the townthe Arrow lying seven miles southward. +But this objection had been met and dismissed by his friends, who had +insisted that he was a resident of the town by virtue of his large +interests there, and from the fact that he occupied an apartment above +the Dawes bank, and that he spent more time in it than he spent in the +Arrow ranchhouse. + +But on the ride to Daweson Spotted Tail(this morning wonderfully +docile despite Tuesdays slander by his master)Taylors thoughts +dwelt not upon the honor that was to be his, but upon the questionable +trick he had played on Marion Harlan, with the able assistance of the +tall young puncher, Bud Hemmingway. + +He looked down at the foot, now unbandaged, with a frown. The girls +complete and matter-of-fact belief in the story of his injury; her +sympathy and deep concern; the self-accusation in her eyes; the +instant pardon she had granted him for staying at the ranchhouse when +he should not have stayedall these he arrayed against the bald fact +that he had tricked her. And he felt decidedly guilty. + +And yet somehow there was some justification for the trick. It was the +justification of desire. The things a man wants are not to be denied +by the narrow standards of custom. Does a man miss an opportunity to +establish acquaintance with a girl he has fallen in love with, merely +because custom has decreed that she shall not come unattendedsave by +a negro womanto his house? + +Taylor made desire his justification, and his sense of guilt was +dispelled by half. + +Nor was the guilt so poignant that it rested heavily on his conscience +since he had done no harm to the girl. + +What harm had been done had been done to Taylor himself. He kept +seeing Marion as she sat on the porch, and the spell of her had seized +him so firmly that last night, after she had left, the ranchhouse had +seemed to be nothing more than four walls out of which all the life +had gone. He felt lonesome this morning, and was in the grip of a +nameless longing. + +All the humor had departed from him. For the first time in all his +days a conception of the meaning of life assailed him, revealing to +him a glimpse of the difficulties of a man in love. For a man may love +a girl: his difficulties begin when the girl seems to become +unattainable. + +Looming large in Taylors thoughts this morning was Carrington. Having +overheard Carrington talking of her on the train, Taylor thought he +knew what Carrington wanted; but he was in doubt regarding the state +of the girls feelings toward the man. Had she yielded to the mans +intense personal magnetism? + +Carrington was handsome; there was no doubt that almost any girl would +be flattered by his attentions. And had Carrington been worthy of +Marion, Taylor would have entertained no hope of successhe would not +even have thought of it. + +But he had overheard Carrington; he knew the mans nature was vile and +bestial; and already he hated him with a fervor that made his blood +riot when he thought of him. + +When he reached Dawes he found himself hoping that Marion would not be +in town to see that his ankle was unbandaged. But he might have saved +himself that throb of perturbation, for at that minute Marion was +standing in the front room of the big house, looking out of one of the +windows at Parsons, wondering what had happened to make him seem so +glum and abstracted. + +When Taylor dismounted in front of the courthouse there were several +men grouped on the sidewalk near the door. + +Neil Norton was in the group, and he came forward, smiling. + +Were here to witness the ceremony, he told Taylor. + +Taylors greeting to the other men was not that of the professional +politician. He merely grinned at them and returned a short: Well, +lets get it over with, to Nortons remark. Then, followed by his +friends, he entered the courthouse. + +Taylor knew Judge Littlefield. He had no admiration for the man, and +yet his greeting was polite and courteousit was the greeting of an +American citizen to an official. + +Taylors first quick glance about the interior of the courthouse +showed him Carrington. The latter was sitting in an armchair near a +window toward the rear of the room. He smiled as Taylors glance swept +him, but Taylor might not have seen the smile. For Taylor was deeply +interested in other things. + +A conception of the serious responsibility that he was to accept +assailed him. Until now the thing had been entirely personal; his +thoughts had centered upon the honor that was to be hishis friends +had selected him for an important position. And yet Taylor was not +vain. + +Now, however, ready to accept the oath of office, he realized that he +was to become the servant of the municipality; that these friends of +his had elected him not merely to honor him but because they trusted +him, because they were convinced that he would administer the affairs +of the young town capably and in a fair and impartial manner. They +depended upon him for justice, advice, and guidance. + +All these things, to be sure, Taylor would give them to the best of +his ability. They must have known that or they would not have elected +him. + +These thoughts sobered him as he walked to the little wooden railing +in front of the judges desk; and his face was grave as he looked at +the other. + +I am ready to take the oath, Judge Littlefield, he gravely +announced. + +Glancing sidewise, Taylor saw that a great many men had come into the +room. He did not turn to look at them, however, for he saw a gleam in +Judge Littlefields eyes that held his attention. + +That will not be necessary, Mr. Taylor, he heard the judge say. The +governor, through the attorney-general, has ruled you were not legally +elected to the office you aspire to. Only last night I was notified of +the decision. It was late, or I should have taken steps to apprise you +of the situation. + +Taylor straightened. He heard exclamations from many men in the room; +he was conscious of a tension that had come into the atmosphere. Some +men scuffled their feet; and then there was a deep silence. + +Taylor smiled without mirth. His dominant emotion was curiosity. + +Not legally elected? he said. Why? + +The judge passed a paper to Taylor; it was one of those that had been +delivered to the judge by Carrington. + +The judge did not meet Taylors eyes. + +Youll find a full statement of the case, there, he said. Briefly, +however, the governor finds that your name did not appear on the +ballots. + +Norton, who had been standing at Taylors side all along, now shoved +his way to the railing and leaned over it, his face white with wrath. + +Theres something wrong here, Judge Littlefield! he charged. +Taylors name was on every ballot that was counted for him. I +personally examined every ballot! + +The judge smiled tolerantly, almost benignantly. + +Of courseto be sure, he said. Mr. Taylors name appeared on a good +many ballots; his friends _wrote_ it, with pencil, and otherwise. But +the law expressly states that a candidates name must be _printed_. +Therefore, obeying the letter of the law, the governor has ruled that +Mr. Taylor was not elected. There was malicious satisfaction in Judge +Littlefields eyes as they met Taylors. Taylor could see that the +judge was in entire sympathy with the influences that were opposing +him, though the judge tried, with a grave smile, to create an +impression of impartiality. + +Under the governors ruling, therefore, he continued, and acting +under explicit directions from the attorney-general, I am empowered to +administer the oath of office to the legally elected candidate, David +Danforth. Now, if Mr. Danforth is in the courtroom, and will come +forward, we shall conclude. + +Mr. Danforth was in the courtroom; he was sitting near Carrington; and +he came forward, his face slightly flushed, with the gaze of every +person in the room on him. + +He smiled apologetically at Taylor as he reached the railing, +extending a hand. + +Im damned sorry, Taylor, he declared. This is all a surprise to +me. I hadnt any doubt that they would swear you in. No hard +feelings? + +Taylor had been conscious of the humiliation of his position. He knew +that his friends would expect him to fight. And yet he felt more like +gracefully yielding to the forces which had barred him from office +upon the basis of so slight a technicality. And despite the knowledge +that he had been robbed of the office, he would have taken Danforths +hand, had he not at that instant chanced to glance at Carrington. + +The latters eyes were aglow with a vindictive triumph; as his gaze +met Taylors, his lips curved with a sneer. + +A dark passion seized Taylorthe bitter, savage rage of jealousy. The +antagonism he had felt for Carrington that day on the train when he +had heard Carringtons voice for the first time was suddenly +intensified. It had been growing slowly, provoked by his knowledge of +the mans evil designs on Marion Harlan. But now there had come into +the first antagonism a gripping lust to injure the other, a +determination to balk him, to defeat him, to meet him on his own +ground and crush him. + +For Carringtons sneer had caused the differences between them to +become sharply personal; it would make the fight that was brewing +between the two men not a political fight, but a fight of the spirit. + +Taylor interpreted the sneer as a challenge, and he accepted it. His +eyes gleamed with hatred unmistakable as they held Carringtons; and +the grin on his lips was the cold, unhumorous grin of the fighter who +is not dismayed by odds. His voice was low and sharp, and it carried +to every person in the room: + +We wont shake, Danforth; you are not particular enough about the +character of your friends! + +The look was significant, and it compelled the eyes of all of Taylors +friends, so that Carrington instantly found himself the center of +interest. + +However, he did not change color; on his face a bland smile testified +to his entire indifference to what Taylor or Taylors friends thought +of him. + +Taylor grinned mirthlessly at the judge, spoke shortly to Norton, and +led the way out through the front door, followed by a number of his +friends. + +Norton took Taylor into his office, adjoining the courthouse, and +threw himself into a chair, grumbling profanely. Outside they could +see the crowd filing down the street, voicing its opinion of the +startling proceeding. + +An election is an election, they heard one man saya Taylor +sympathizer. What difference does it make that Taylors name wasnt +_printed_? Its a dawg-gone frame-up, thats what it is! + +But Danforths adherents were not lacking; and there were arguments in +loud, vigorous language among men who passed the door of the _Eagle_ +office. + +I could have printed the damned ballots, myselfif I had thought it +necessary, mourned Norton. And now were skinned out of it! + +Nortons disgust was complete and bitter; he had slid down in the +chair, his chin on his chest, his hands shoved deep into the pockets +of his trousers. + +Yet his dejection had not infected Taylor; the latters lips were +curved in a faint smile, ironic and saturnine. It was plain to Norton +that whatever humor there was in the situation was making its appeal +to Taylor. The thought angered Norton, and he sat up, demanding +sharply: Well, what in hell are you going to do about it? + +Taylor grinned at the other. Nothing, now, he said. We might appeal +to the courts, but if the law specifies that a candidates name must +be printed, the courts would sustain the governor. It looks to me, +Norton, as though Carrington and Danforth have the cards stacked. + +Norton groaned and again slid down into his chair. He heard Taylor go +out, but he did not change his position. He sat there with his eyes +closed, profanely accusing himself, for he alone was to blame for the +complete defeat that had descended upon his candidate; and he could +not expect Taylor to fight a law which, though unjust and arbitrary, +was the only law in the Territory. + +Taylor had not gone far. He stepped into the door of the courthouse, +to meet Carrington, who was coming out. Danforth and Judge Littlefield +were talking animatedly in the rear of the room. They ceased talking +when they saw Taylor, and faced toward him, looking at him +wonderingly. + +Carrington halted just inside the threshold of the doorway, and he, +too, watched Taylor curiously, though there was a bland, sneering +smile on his face. + +Taylors smile as he looked at the men was still faintly ironic, and +his eyes were agleam with a light that baffled the other menthey +could not determine just what emotion they reflected. + +And Taylors manner was as quietly deliberate and nonchalant as though +he had merely stepped into the room for a social visit. His gaze swept +the three men. + +Framing upagain, eh? he said, with drawling emphasis. You sure did +a good job for a starter. I just stepped in to say a few words to +youall of you. To you first, Littlefield. And now his eyes held the +judgethey seemed to squint genially at the man. + +I happen to know that our big, sleek four-flusher herenodding +toward Carringtoncame here to loot Dawes. Quite accidentally, I +overheard him boasting of his intentions. Danforth was sent here by +Carrington more than a year ago to line things up, politically. I +dont know how many are in the gameand I dont care. You are in it, +Littlefield. I saw that by the delight you took in informing me of the +decision of the attorney-general. I just stepped in to tell you that I +know what is going on, and to warn you that you cant do it! You had +better pull out before you make an ass of yourself, Littlefield! + +The judges face was crimson. This is an outrage, Taylor! he +sputtered. Ill have you jailed for contempt of court! + +Not you! gibed Taylor, calmly. You havent the nerve! Id like +nothing better than to have you do it. Youre a little fuzzy dog that +doesnt crawl out of its kennel until it hears the snap of its +masters fingers! Thats all for you! + +He grinned at Danforth, felinely, and the man flushed under the odd +gleam in the eyes that held his. + +I can classify you with one word, Dave, he declared; youre a +crook! That lets you out; you do what you are told! + +He now ignored the others and faced Carrington. + +His grin faded quickly, the lips stiffening. But still there was a +hint of cold humor in his manner that created the impression that he +was completely in earnest; that he was keenly enjoying himself and +that he did not feel at all tragic. And yet, underlying the mask of +humor, Carrington saw the passionate hatred Taylor felt for him. + +Carrington sneered. He attempted to smile, but the malevolent +bitterness of his passions turned the smile into a hideous smirk. He +had hated Taylor at first sight; and now, with the jealousy provoked +by the knowledge that Taylor had turned his eyes toward Marion Harlan, +the hatred had become a lust to destroy the other. + +Before Taylor could speak, Carrington stepped toward him, thrusting +his face close to Taylors. The man was in the grip of a mighty rage +that bloated his face, that made his breath come in great labored +gasps. He had not meant to so boldly betray his hatred, but the +violence of his passions drove him on. + +He knew that Taylor was baiting him, mocking him, taunting him; that +Taylors words to the judge and to Danforth had been uttered with the +grimly humorous purpose of arousing the men to some unwise and +precipitate action; he knew that Taylor was enjoying the confusion he +had brought. + +But Carrington had lost his self-control. + +Without a word, but with a smothered imprecation that issued +gutturally from between his clenched teeth, he swung a fist with +bitter malignance at Taylors face. + +The blow did not land, for Taylor, self-possessed and alert, had been +expecting it. He slipped his head sidewise slightly, evading the fist +by a narrow margin, and, tensed, his muscles taut, he drove his own +right fist upward, heavily. + +Carrington, reeling forward under the impetus of the force he had +expended, ran fairly into the fist. It crashed to the point of his jaw +and he was unconscious, rigid, and upright on his feet in the instant +before he sagged and tumbled headlong out through the open doorway +into the street. + +With a bound, his face set in a mirthless grin, Taylor was after him, +landing beyond him in the windrowed dust at the edge of the sidewalk, +ready and willing to administer further punishment. + + + + +CHAPTER XIVTHE FACE OF A FIGHTER + + +Slouching in his chair, in an attitude of complete dejection, Neil +Norton was glumly digesting the dregs of defeat. + +The _Eagle_ office adjoined the courthouse. Both were one-story frame +structures, flimsy, with one thin wall between them; and to Nortons +ears as he sat with his unpleasant thoughts, came the sound of voices, +muffled, but resonant. Someone was speaking with force and insistence. +Norton attuned his ears to the voice. It was then he discovered there +was only one voice, and that Taylors. + +He sat erect, both hands gripping the arms of his chair. Then he got +up, walked to the front door of the _Eagle_ office, and looked out. He +was just in time to see Carrington tumble out through the door of the +courthouse and land heavily on the sidewalk in front of the building. +Immediately afterward he saw Taylor follow. + +Norton exclaimed his astonishment, and he saw Taylor turn toward him, +a broad, mirthless grin on his face. + +Good Heavens! breathed Norton, hes started a ruckus! + +Taylor had not moved. He was looking at Norton when a man leaped from +the door of the courthouse, straight at him. It was Danforth, his face +hideous with rage. + +Taylor sensed the movement, wheeled, stumbled, and lost his balance +just as Danforth crashed against him. The two men went down in a heap +into the deep dust of the street, rolling over and over. + +Danforths impetus had given him the initial advantage, and he was +making the most of it. His fists were working into Taylors face as +they rolled in the dust, his arms swinging like flails. Taylor, caught +almost unprepared, could not get into a position to defend himself. He +shielded his face somewhat by holding his chin close to his chest and +hunching his shoulders up; but Danforth landed some blows. + +There came an instant, however, when Taylors surprise over the +assault changed to resentment over the punishment he was receiving. He +had struck Carrington in self-defense, and he had not expected the +attack by Danforth. + +Norton, also surprised, saw that his friend was at a disadvantage, and +he was running forward to help him when he saw Taylor roll on top of +Danforth. + +To Nortons astonishment, Taylor did not seem to be in a vicious +humor, despite the blows Danforth had landed on him. Taylor came out +of the smother with a grin on his face, wide and exultant, and +distinctly visible to Norton in spite of the streaks of dust that +covered it. Taylor shook his head, his hair erupting a heavy cloud. +Then he got up, permitting Danforth to do likewise. + +Regaining his feet, Danforth threw himself headlong toward Taylor, +cursing, his face working with malignant rage. When Taylor hit him the +dust flew from Danforths clothes as it rolls from a dirty carpet +flayed with a beater. Danforth halted, his knees sagged, his head +wabbled. But Taylor gave him a slight respite, and he came on again. + +This time Taylor met him with a smother of sharp, deadening uppercuts +that threw the man backward, his mouth open, his eyes closed. He fell, +sagging backward, his knees unjointed, without a sound. + +And now Norton was not the only spectator. Far up the street a man had +emerged from a doorway. He saw the erupting volcanoes of dust in the +street, and he ran back, shouting, Fight! Fight! + +Dawes had seen many fights, and had grown accustomed to them. But +there is always novelty in another, and long before Danforth had +received the blows that had rendered him inactive, nearly all the +doors of Dawess buildings were vomiting men. They came, seemingly, in +endless streams, in groups, in twos and singly, eager, excited, all +the streams converging at the street in front of the courthouse. + +Mindful of the ethics in an affair of this kind, the crowd kept +considerately at a distance, permitting the fighting men to continue +at their work without interference, with plenty of room for their +energetic movements. + +Word ran from lip to lip that Taylor, stung by the knowledge that he +had been robbed of the office to which he had been elected, had +attacked Carrington and Danforth with the grim purpose of punishing +them personally for their misdeeds. + +Taylor was aware of the gathering crowd. When he had delivered the +blows that had finished his political rival, he saw the dense mass of +men in the street around him; and he felt that all Dawes had +assembled. + +There was still no rancor in Taylors heart; the same savage humor +which had driven him into the courthouse to acquaint Carrington and +the others with his knowledge of their designs, still gripped him. He +had not meant to force a fight, but neither had he any intention of +permitting Carrington and Danforth to inflict physical punishment upon +him. + +But a malicious devil had seized him. He knew that what he had done +would be magnified and distorted by Carrington, Danforth, and the +judge; that they would charge him with the blame for it; that he faced +the probability of a jail sentence for defending himself. And he was +determined to complete the work he had started. + +Therefore, having disposed of Danforth, he grinned at the eager, +excited faces that hemmed him about, and wheeled toward Carrington. + +He was just in time. For Carrington, not badly hurt by Taylors blow, +which had catapulted him out of the door of the courthouse, had been +standing back a little, awaiting an opportunity. The swiftness of +Taylors movements had prevented interference by Carrington; but now, +with Danforth down, Carrington saw his chance. + +Without a word, Carrington lunged forward. They met with a shock that +caused the dry dust to splay and spume upward and outward in thin, +minute streaks like the leaping, spraying waters of a fountain. They +were lost, momentarily, in a haze, as the dust fell and enveloped +them. + +They emerged from the blot presently, Carrington staggering, his chin +on his chest, his eyes glazedTaylor crowding him closely. For while +they had been lost in the smother of dust, Taylor had landed a +deadening uppercut on the big mans chin. + +The big mans brain was befogged; and yet he still retained presence +of mind enough to shield his chin from another of those terrific +blows. He had crossed his arms over the lower part of his face, +fending off Taylors fists with his elbows. + +A Danforth man in the crowd called on Carrington to wallop Taylor, +and the big mans answering grin indicated that he was not as badly +hurt as he seemed. + +Almost instantly he demonstrated that, for when Taylor, still +following him, momentarily left an opening, Carrington stepped quickly +forward and struckhis big arm flashing out with amazing rapidity. + +The heavy fist landed high on Taylors head above the ear. It was not +a blow that would have finished the fight, even had it landed lower, +but it served to warn Taylor that his antagonist was still strong, and +he went in more warily. + +The advantage of the fight was all with Taylor. For Taylor was cool +and deliberate, while Carrington, raging over the blows he had +received, and in the clutch of a bitter desire to destroy his enemy, +wasted much energy in swinging wildly. + +The inaccuracy of Carringtons hitting amused Taylor; the men in the +crowd about him could see his lips writhing in a vicious smile at +Carringtons efforts. + +Carrington landed some blows. But he had lived luxuriously during the +later years of his life; his muscles had deteriorated, and though he +was still strong, his strength was not to be compared with that of the +out-of-door man whose clean and simple habits had toughened his +muscles until they were equal to any emergency. + +And so the battle went slowly but surely against Carrington. Fighting +desperately, and showing by the expression of his face that he knew +his chances were small, he tried to work at close quarters. He kept +coming in stubbornly, blocking some blows, taking others; and finally +he succeeded in getting his arms around Taylor. + +The crowd had by this time become intensely partisan. At first it had +been silent, but now it became clamorous. There were some Danforth +men, and knowing Danforth to be aligned with Carringtonbecause, it +seemed to them, Carrington was taking Danforths end of the fightthey +howled for the big man to give it to him! And they grew bitter when +they saw that despite Carringtons best efforts, and their own verbal +support of him, Carrington was doomed to defeat. + +Taylors admirers vastly outnumbered Carringtons. They did not find +it necessary to shout advice to their champion; but they shouted and +roared with approval as Taylor, driving forward, the grin still on his +face, striking heavily and blocking deftly, kept his enemy retreating +before him. + +Carrington, locking his arms around Taylor, hugged him desperately for +some secondsuntil he recovered his breath, and until his head +cleared, and he could fix objects firmly in his vision; and then he +heaved mightily, swung Taylor from his feet and tried to throw him. +Taylors feet could get no leverage, but his arms were still free, and +with both of them he hammered the big mans head until Carrington, in +insane rage, threw Taylor from him. + +Taylor landed a little off balance, and before he could set himself, +Carrington threw himself forward. He swung malignantly, the blow +landing glancingly on Taylors head, staggering him. His feet struck +an obstruction and he went to one knee, Carrington striking at him as +he tried to rise. + +The blow missed, Carrington turning clear around from the force of the +blow and tumbling headlong into the dust near Taylor. + +They clambered to their feet at the same instant, and in the next they +came together with a shock that made them both reel backward. And +then, still grinning, Taylor stepped lightly forward. Paying no +attention to Carringtons blows, he shot in several short, terrific, +deadening uppercuts that landed fairly on the big mans chin. +Carringtons hands dropped to his sides, his knees doubled and he fell +limply forward into the dust of the street where he lay, huddled and +unconscious, while turmoil raged over him. + +For the Danforth men in the crowd had yielded to rage over the defeat +of their favorites. They had seen Danforth go down under the terrific +punishment meted out to him by Taylor; they had seen Carrington suffer +the same fate. Several of them drove forward, muttering profane +threats. + +Norton, pale and watchful, fearing just such a contingency, shoved +forward to the center, shouting: + +Hold on, men! None of that! Its a fair fight! Keep off, theredo you +hear? + +A score of Taylor men surged forward to Nortons side; the crowd +split, forming two sectionsone group of men massing near Norton, the +other congregating around a tall man who seemed to be the leader of +their faction. A number of other menthe cautious and faint-hearted +element which had no personal animus to spur it to participation in +what seemed to threaten to develop into a riotretreated a short +distance up the street and stood watching, morbidly curious. + +But though violence, concerted and deadly, was imminent, it was +delayed. For Taylor had not yet finished, and the crowd was curiously +following his movements. + +Taylor was a picturesquely ludicrous figure. He was covered with dust +from head to foot; his face was streaked with it; his hair was full of +it; it had been ground into his cheeks, and where blood from a cut on +his forehead had trickled to his right temple, the dust was matted +until it resembled crimson mud. + +And yet the man was still smiling. It was not a smile at which most +men care to look when its owners attention is definitely centered +upon them; it was a smile full of grimly humorous malice and +determination; the smile of the fighting man who cares nothing for +consequences. + +The concerted action which had threatened was, by the tacit consent of +the prospective belligerents, postponed for the instant. The gaze of +every partisanand of all the non-partisanswas directed at Taylor. + +He had not yet finished. For an instant he stood looking down at +Carrington and Danforthboth now beginning to recover from their +chastisement, and sitting up in the dust gazing dizzily about +themthen with a chuckle, grim and malicious, Taylor dove toward the +door of the courthouse, where Littlefield was standing. + +The judge had been stunned by the ferocity of the action he had +witnessed. Whatever judicial dignity had been his had been whelmed by +the paralyzing fear that had gripped him, and he stood, holding to the +door-jambs, nerveless, motionless. + +He saw Taylor start toward him; he saw a certain light leaping in the +mans eyes, and he cringed and cried out in dread. + +But he had not the power to retreat from the menace that was +approaching him. He threw out his hands impotently as Taylor reached +him, as though to protest physically. But Taylor ignored the movement, +reaching upward, a dusty finger and thumb closing on the judges right +ear. + +There was a jerk, a shrill cry of pain from the judge, and then he was +led into the street, near where Carrington and Danforth had fallen, +and twisted ungently around until he faced the crowd. + +Men, said Taylor, in the silence that greeted him as he stood erect, +his finger and thumb still gripping the judges ear, Judge +Littlefield is going to say a few words to you. Hes going to tell you +who started this ruckusso there wont be any nonsense about actions +in contempt of court. Deals like this are pulled off better when the +court takes the public into its confidence. Who started this thing, +judge? Did I? + +Noo, was Littlefields hesitating reply. + +Who did start it? + +Mr. Carrington. + +You saw him? + +Yes. + +What did he do? + +Heerstruck at you. + +And Danforth? + +He attacked you while you were in the street. + +And Im not to blame? + +No. + +Taylor grinned and released the judges ear. Thats all, gentlemen, +he said; court is dismissed! + +The judge said nothing as he walked toward the door of the courthouse. +Nor did Carrington and Danforth speak as they followed the judge. Both +Carrington and Danforth seemed to have had enough fighting for one +day. + +The victor looked around at the faces in the crowd that were turned to +his, and his grin grew eloquent. + +Looks like were going to have a mighty peaceable administration, +boys! he said. His grin included Norton, at whom he deliberately +winked. Then he turned, mounted his horsewhich had stood docilely +near by during the excitement, and which whinnied as he approached +itand rode down the street to the Dawes bank, before which he +dismounted. Then he went to his rooms on the floor above, washed and +changed his clothes, and attended to the bruises on his face. Later, +looking out of the window, he saw the crowd slowly dispersing; and +still later he opened the door on Neil Norton, who came in, deep +concern on his face. + +Youve started something, Squint. After you left I went into the +_Eagle_ office. The partition is thin, and I could hear Carrington +raising hell in there. You look out; hell try to play some dogs +trick on you now! Theres going to be the devil to pay in this mans +town! + +Taylor laughed. How long does it take for a sprained ankle to mend, +Norton? + +Norton looked sharply at Taylors feet. + +You sprain one of yours? he asked. + +Lord, no! denied Taylor. I was just wondering. How long? he +insisted. + +About two weeks. Say, Squint, your brain wasnt injured in that +ruckus, was it? he asked solicitously. + +Its as good as it ever was. + +I dont believe it! declared Norton. Here youve started something +serious, and you go to rambling about sprained ankles. + +Norton, said Taylor slowly, a sprained ankle is a mighty serious +thingwhen youve forgotten which one it was! + +What in + +And, resumed Taylor, when you dont know but that she took +particular pains to make a mental note of it. If Id wrap the left one +up, now, and she knew it was the right one that had been hurtor if +Id wrap up the right one, and she knew it was the wrong one, why +shed likely + +_She?_ groaned Norton, looking at his friend with bulging eyes that +were haunted by a fear that Taylors brain _had_ cracked under the +strain of the excitement he had undergone. He remembered now, that +Taylor _had_ acted in a peculiar manner during the fight; that he had +grinned all through it when he should have been in deadly earnest. + +Plumb loco! he muttered. + +And then he saw Taylor grinning broadly at him; and he was suddenly +struck with the conviction that Taylor was not insane; that he was in +possession of some secret that he was trying to confide to his friend, +and that he had begun obliquely. Norton drew a deep breath of relief. + +Lord! he sighed, you sure had me going. And you dont know which +ankle you sprained? + +Ive clean forgot. And now shell find out that Ive lied to her. + +_She?_ said Norton significantly. + +Marion Harlan, grinned Taylor. + +Norton caught his breath with a gasp. You mean youve fallen in love +with her? And that youve made herOh, Lord! What a situation! Dont +you know her uncle and Carrington are in cahoots in this deal? + +Its my recollection that I told you about that the day I got back, +Taylor reminded him. And then Taylor told him the story of the +bandaged ankle. + +When Taylor concluded, Norton lay back in his chair and regarded his +friend blankly. + +And you mean to tell me that all the time you were fighting +Carrington and Danforth you were thinking about that ankle? + +Mostly all the time, Taylor admitted. + +Norton made a gesture of impotence. Well, he said, if a man can +keep his mind on a girl while two men are trying to knock hell out of +him, hes sure got a bad case. And all Ive got to say is that youre +going to have a lovely ruckus! + + + + +CHAPTER XVGLOOMAND PLANS + + +Elam Parsons sat all day on the wide porch of the big house nursing +his resentment. He was hunched up in the chair, his shoulders were +slouched forward, his chin resting on the wings of his high, starched +collar, his lips in a pout, his eyes sullen and gleaming with +malevolence. + +Parsons was beginning to recover from his astonishment over the attack +Carrington had made on him. He saw now that he should have known +Carrington was the kind of man he had shown himself to be; for now +that Parsons reflected, he remembered little things that Carrington +had done which should have warned him. + +Carrington had never been a real friend. Carrington had used himthat +was it; Carrington had made him think he was an important member of +the partnership, and he had thought so himself. Now he understood +Carrington. Carrington was selfish and cruelmore, Carrington was a +beast and an ingrate. For it had been Parsons who had made it possible +for Carrington to succeedfor he had used Parsons money all +alonghaving had very little himself. + +So Parsons reflected, knowing, however, that he had not the courage to +oppose Carrington. He feared Carrington; he had always feared him, but +now his fear had become terrorand hate. For Parsons could still feel +the mans fingers at his throat; and as he sat there on the porch his +own fingers stroked the spot, while in his heart flamed a great +yearning for vengeance. + + * * * * * + +Marion Harlan had got up this morning feeling rather more interested +in the big house than she had felt the day beforeor upon any day that +she had occupied it. She, like Parsons, had awakened with a +presentiment of impending pleasure. But, unlike Parsons, she found it +impossible to definitely select an outstanding incident or memory upon +which to base her expectations. + +Her anticipations seemed to be broad and inclusivelike a clear, +unobstructed sunset, with an effulgent glow that seemed to embrace the +whole world, warming it, bringing a great peace. + +For upon this morning, suddenly awakening to the pure, white light +that shone into her window, she was conscious of a feeling of +satisfaction with life that was strange and foreigna thing that she +had never before experienced. Always there had been a shadow of the +past to darken her vision of the future, but this morning that shadow +seemed to have vanished. + +For a long time she could not understand, and she snuggled up in bed, +her brow thoughtfully furrowed, trying to solve the mystery. It was +not until she got up and was looking out of the window at the mighty +basin in whichlike a dot of brown in a lake of emerald +greenclustered the buildings of the Arrow ranch, that knowledge in an +overwhelming flood assailed her. Then a crimson flush stained her +cheeks, her eyes glowed with happiness, and she clasped her hands and +stood rigid for a long time. + +She knew now. A name sprang to her lips, and she murmured it aloud, +softly: Quinton Taylor. + +Later she appeared to Marthaa vision that made the negro woman gasp +with amazement. + +What happen to you, honey? You-all git good news? You look light an +airylike yous goin to fly! + +Ive decided to like this placeafter all, Martha. II thought at +first that I wouldnt, but I have changed my mind. + +Martha looked sharply at her, a sidelong glance that had quite a +little subtle knowledge in it. + +I reckon that Squint Taylor make a good many girls change their +mind, honeyhe, he, he! + +Martha! + +Doan you git sturbed, now, honey. Martha shuah knows the signs. I +done discover the signs a long while agowhen I fall in love with a +worfless nigger in St. Louis. He shuah did captivate me, honey. I done +try to wiggle out of itbut taint no use. Face the facs, Martha, +face the facs, I tell myselfan I done it. Aint no use for to try +an fool the facs, honeynot one bit of use! The ol fac he look at +you an say: Doan you try to wiggle way from me; Is heah, an heah +Is goin to stay! That Squint man aint no lady-killer, honey, but +hes shuah a he-man from the groun up! + +Marion escaped Martha as quickly as she could; and after breakfast +began systematically to rearrange the furniture to suit her artistic +ideals. + +Martha helped, but not again did Martha refer to Quinton +Taylorsomething in Marions manner warned her that she could trespass +too far in that direction. + +Some time during the morning Marion saw Parsons ride up and dismount +at the stable door; and later she heard him cross the porch. She +looked out of one of the front windows and saw him huddled in a big +rocking-chair, and she wondered at the depression that sat so heavily +upon him. + +The girl did not pause in her work long enough to partake of the lunch +that Martha set for herso interested was she; and therefore she did +not know whether or not Parsons came into the house. But along about +four oclock in the afternoon, wearied of her task, Marion entered the +kitchen. From Martha she learned that Parsons had not stirred from the +chair on the porch during the entire day. + +Concerned, Marion went out to him. + +Parsons did not hear her; he was still moodily and resentfully +reviewing the incident of the morning. + +He started when the girl placed a gentle hand on one of his shoulders, +seeming to cringe from her touch; then he looked up at her suddenly. + +What do you want? he demanded. + +Dont you feel well, Uncle Elam? she inquired. Her hand rose from +his shoulder to his head, and her fingers ran through his hair with a +light, gentle touch that made him shiver with repugnance. There were +times when Parsons hated this living image of his brother-in-law with +a fervor that seemed to sear his heart. Now, however, pity for himself +had rather dulled the edge of his hatred. A calamity had befallen him; +he was crushed under it; and the sympathy of one whom he hated was not +entirely undesirable. + +No sense of guilt assailed the man. He had never betrayed his hate to +her, and he would not do so now. That wasnt his way. He had always +masked it from her, making her think he felt an affection for her +which was rather the equal of that which custom required a man should +feel for a niece. Yet he had always hated her. + +Im not exactly well, he muttered. Its the damned atmosphere, I +suppose. + +Martha tells me that it _does_ affect some persons, said the girl. +And lack of appetite seems to be one of the first symptomsin your +case. For Martha tells me you have not eaten. + +The girls soft voice irritated Parsons. + +Go away! he ordered crossly; I want to think! + +It was not the first time the girl had endured his moods. She smiled +tolerantly, and softly withdrew, busying herself inside the house. + +Parsons did not eat supper; he slunk off to bed and lay for hours in +his room brooding over the thing that had happened to him. + +He got up early the next morning, mounted his horse and left the house +before Marion could get a glimpse of him. It was still rather early +when he reached Dawes. There, in a saloon, he overheard the story of +the fight in the street in front of the courthouse, and with tingling +eagerness and venomous satisfaction he listened to a man telling +another of the terrible punishment inflicted upon Carrington by +Quinton Taylor. + +Parsons did not go to see Carrington, for he feared a repetition of +Carringtons savage rage, should he permit the latter to observe his +satisfaction over the incident of yesterday. He knew he could not face +Carrington and conceal the gloating triumph that gripped him. + +So he returned to the big house. And for the greater part of the day +he sat in the rocker on the porch, his soul filled with a vindictive +joy. + +He ate heartily, too; and his manner indicated that he had quite +recovered from the indisposition that had affected him the previous +day. He even smiled at Marion when she told him he was looking +better. + +But his bitter yearning for vengeance had not been satisfied by the +knowledge that Taylor had thrashed Carrington. He knew, now that +Carrington had ruthlessly cast him aside, that he was no longer to +figure importantly in the scheme to loot the town; he knew that it was +Carringtons intention to rob him of every dollar he had entrusted to +the man. He knew, too, that Carrington would not hesitate to murder +him should he offer the slightest objection, or should he make any +visible resistance to Carringtons plans. + +But Parsons was determined to be revenged upon Carrington, and he was +convinced that he could secure his revenge without boldly announcing +his plans. + +As for that, he had no plans. But while sitting in the rocker on the +porch during the long afternoon, the vindictive light in his eyes +suddenly deepened, and he grinned evilly. + +That night after supper he exerted himself to be agreeable to Marion. +During the interval between sunset and darkness he walked with the +girl along the edge of the butte above the big valley which held the +irrigation dam. And while standing in a timber grove at the edge of +the butte, he questioned her deftly about the news she had received of +her father, and she told him of her visits to the Arrow. + +He had watched her narrowly, and he saw the flush that came into her +cheeks each time Taylor was mentioned. + +He is a remarkably forceful man, he observed once, when he mentioned +Taylor. And if I am not mistaken, Carrington is going to have his +hands full with him. + +What do you mean? Do you mean that Mr. Taylor is not in sympathy with +Carringtons plans concerning Dawes? + +I mean just that. And if you had happened to be in Dawes yesterday +you might have witnessed a demonstration of Taylors lack of sympathy +with Carringtons plans. Forand now Parsons eyes gleamed +maliciouslyafter Judge Littlefield, acting under instructions from +the governor, had refused to administer the oath of office to +Taylorinducting his rival, Danforth, into the position instead + +Here the girl interrupted, and Parsons was forced to relate the tale +in its entirety. + +Uncle Elam, she said when Parsons paused, are you certain that +Carringtons intentions toward Dawes are honorable? + +Parsons smiled crookedly behind a palm, and then uncertainly at the +girl. + +I dont know, Marion. Carrington is a rather hard man to gauge. He +has always been mighty uncommunicative and headstrong. He is getting +ruthless and domineering, too. I am rather afraidthat is, my dear, I +am beginning to believe we made a mistake in Carrington. He doesnt +seem to be the sort of man we thought him to be. If he were like that +man Taylor, now He paused and glanced covertly at the girl, noting +the glow in her eyes. + +Yes, he resumed, Taylor _is_ a man. My dear, he added +confidentially, there is going to be trouble in DawesI am convinced +of that; trouble between Carrington and Taylor. Taylor thrashed +Carrington yesterday, but Carrington isnt the kind to give up. I have +withdrawn from active participation in the affairs that brought me +here. I am not going to take sides. I dont care who wins. That may +sound disloyal to youbut look here! He showed her several black and +blue marks on his throat. Carrington did thatthe day before +yesterday. Choked me. His voice quavered with self-pity, whereat the +girl caught her breath in quick sympathy and bent to examine the +marks. When she stood erect again Parsons saw her eyes flashing with +indignation, and he knew that whatever respect the girl had had for +Carrington had been forever destroyed. + +Oh! she said, why did he choke you? + +Because I frankly told him I did not approve of his methods, lied +Parsons, smirking virtuously. He showed his hand, unmistakably, and +his methods mean evil to Dawes. + +The girl stiffened. I shall go directly to Dawes and tell Carrington +what I think of him! she declared. + +Nofor Gods sake! protested Parsons. He would kill me! He would +know, instantly, that I had been talking. My life would not be worth a +snap of your fingers! Dont let on that I have said _anything_ to you! +Let him come here, and treat him as you have always treated him. But +warn Taylor. Taylor may know somethingit is certain he suspects +somethingbut Taylor will not know everything. Make a friend of +Taylor, my dear. Go to himvisit his ranchas much as you like. But if +Carrington says anything to you about going there, tell him I opposed +it. That will mislead him. + +When Parsons and the girl reached the house, Parsons stood near the +kitchen door and watched her enter. He did not go in, himself; he +walked around to the front and sat on the edge of the porch, grinning +maliciously. For he knew something of the tortures of jealousy, and he +was convinced that he had added something to the antagonism that +already had been the cause of one clash between Carrington and Taylor. +And Parsons was convinced that both he and Carrington had made a +mistake in planning to loot Dawes; that despite the connivance of the +governor and Judge Littlefield, Quinton Taylor would defeat them. + +Parsons might lose his money; but the point was that Carrington would +also lose. And if Parsons was wise and cautiousand did not antagonize +Taylorthere was a chance that he might gain more through his +friendshipa professed friendshipfor Taylor, than he would have won +had he been loyal to Carrington. At the least, he would have the +satisfaction of working against Carrington in the dark. And to a man +of Parsons character that was a satisfaction not to be lightly +considered. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIA MAN BECOMES A BRUTE + + +During the days that Parsons had passed nursing his resentment, +Carrington had been busy. Despite the bruises that marked his face +(which, by the way, a clever barber had disguised until they were +hardly visible) Carrington appeared in public as though nothing had +happened. + +The fight at the courthouse had aroused the big man to the point of +volcanic action. The lust for power that had seized him; the +implacable resolution to rule, to win, to have his own way in all +things; his passionate hatred of Taylor; his determination to destroy +anyone who got in his paththese were the forces that drove him. + +Taylor had brought matters to a sudden and unexpected crisis. +Carrington had planned to begin his campaign differently, to insinuate +himself into the political life of Dawes; and he had gone to the +courthouse intending to keep in the background, but Taylor had forced +him into the open. + +Therefore, Carrington had no choice, and he instantly accepted +Taylors challenge. After reentering the courthouse, following the +departure of Taylor, Carrington had insisted that Judge Littlefield +have Taylor taken into custody on a contempt of court charge. +Littlefield had flatly refused, and the resulting argument had been +what Neil Norton had overheard. But Littlefield had not yielded to +Carringtons insistence. + +That would be ridiculous, after what has happened, the judge +declared. The whole country would be laughing at us. More, you can +see that public sentiment is with Taylor. And he forced me to publicly +admit that you were to blame. I simply wont do it! + +All right, grinned Carrington, darkly; Ill find another way to get +him! + +And so for the instant Carrington dismissed Taylor from his thoughts, +devoting his attention to the task of organizing his forces for the +campaign he was to make against the town. + +He held many conferences with Danforth and with three of five men who +had been elected to the new city councilthat political body having +also been provided under the new charter. Three of the +membersCartwright, Ellis, and Wardenwere Danforth men, cogs of that +secret machine which for more than a year Danforth had been perfecting +at Carringtons orders. + +Some officials were appointed by Mayor Danforthat Carringtons +direction; a chief of police, a municipal judge, a town clerk, a +treasurerand a host of other office-holders inevitable to a system of +government which permits the practice. + +Carrington dominated every conference; he made it plain that he was to +rule Dawesthat Danforth and all the others were subject to his +orders. + +Only one day was required to perfect Carringtons organization, and on +Thursday evening, with everything running smoothly, Carrington +appeared in the palm-decorated foyer of the Castle, a smugly +complacent smile on his face. For he had won the first battle in the +war he was to wage. To be sure, he had been worsted in a physical +encounter with Taylor, as the bruises still on his face indicated, but +he intended to repay Taylor for that thrashingand his lips went into +an ugly pout when his thoughts dwelt upon the man. + +He had almost forgotten Parsons; he did not think of the other until +about eight oclock in the evening, when, with Danforth in the barroom +of the Castle, Danforth mentioned his name. Then Carrington remembered +that he had not seen Parsons since he had throttled the man. He +ordered another drink, not permitting Danforth to see his eyes, which +were glowing with a flame that would have betrayed him. + +This is good-night, he said to Danforth as he raised his glass. +Ive got to see Parsons tonight. + +Yet it was not Parsons who was uppermost in his mind when he left the +Castle, mounted on his horse; the face of Marion Harlan was in the +mental picture he drew as he rode toward the Huggins house, and there +ran in his brain a reckless thoughtwhich had been uttered to Parsons +at the instant before his fingers had closed around the latters +throat a few days before: + +I was born a thousand years too late, Parsons! I am a robber baron +brought down to datemodernized. I believe that in me flows the blood +of a pirate, a savage, or an ancient king. I have all the instincts of +a tribal chief whose principles are to rule or ruin! Ill have no law +out here but my own desires! + +And tonight Carringtons desires were for the girl who had accompanied +him to Dawes; the girl who had stirred his passions as no woman had +ever stirred them, and whonow that he had seized the towns +governmentwas to be as much his vassal as Parsons, Danforthor any of +them. He grinned as he rode toward the Huggins housea grin that grew +to a laugh as he rode up the drive toward the house; low, vibrant, +hideous with its threat of unrestrained passion. + +The night had been too beautiful for Marion Harlan to remain indoors, +and so, after darkness had swathed the big valley back of the house, +she had slipped out, noting that her uncle had gone again to the chair +on the front porch. She had walked with Parsons along the butte above +the valley, but she wanted to be alone now, to view the beauties +without danger of interruption. Above all, she wanted to think. + +For the news that Parsons had communicated to her had affected her +strangely; she felt that her uncles revelations of Carringtons +character amounted to a vindication of her own secret opinion of the +man. + +He had been a volcanic wooer, and she had distrusted him all along. +She had never permitted that distrust to appear on the surface, +however, out of respect for her unclefor she had always thought he +and Carrington were firm friends. She saw now, though, that she had +always suspected Carrington of being just what her uncles revelation +had proved him to bea ruthless, selfish, domineering brute of a man, +who would have no mercy upon any person who got in his way. + +Reflecting upon his actions during the days she had known him in +Westwoodand upon his glances when sometimes she had caught him +looking at her, and at other times when his gazebold, and flaming +with naked passionhad been fixed upon her, she shuddered, comparing +him with Quinton Taylor, quiet, polite, and considerate. + +Loyally, she hated Carrington now for the things he had done to +Parsons. She mentally vowed that the next time she saw Carrington she +would tell him exactly what she thought of him, regardless of the +effect her frank opinion might have on her uncles fortunes. + +But still she had not come to the edge of the butte for the purpose of +devoting her entire thoughts to Carrington; there was another face +that obtruded insistently in the mental pictures she drewQuinton +Taylors. And she found a grass knoll at the edge of the butte, +twisted around so that she could look over the edge of the butte and +into the big basin that slumbered somberly in the mysterious darkness, +staring intently until she discovered a pin-point of light gleaming +out of it. That light, she knew, came from one of the windows of the +Arrow ranchhouse, and she watched it long, wondering what Taylor would +be doing about now. + +For she was keeping no secrets from herself tonight. She knew that she +liked Taylor better than she had ever liked any man of her +acquaintance. + +At first she had told herself that her liking for the man had been +aroused merely because he had been good to her father. But she knew +now that she liked Taylor for himself. There was no mistaking the +nameless longing that had taken possession of her; the insistent and +yearning desire to be near him; the regret that had affected her when +she had left the Arrow at the end of her last visit. Taylor would +never know how near she had come to accepting his invitation to share +the Arrow with him. Had it not been for proprietythe same propriety +which had inseparably linked itself with all her actionswhich she +must observe punctiliously despite the fact that girls of her +acquaintance had violated it openly without hurt or damage to their +reputations; had it not been that she must bend to its mandates, +because of the shadow that had always lurked near her, she would have +gone to live at the Arrow. + +For she knew that she could have stayed at the Arrow without danger. +Taylor was a gentlemanshe knewand Taylor would never offend her in +the manner the world affected to dreadand suspect. But she could not +do the things other girls could dothat was why she had refused +Taylors invitation. + +She had thought she had conquered her aversion for the big housethe +aversion that had been aroused because of the story Martha had told +her regarding its former inhabitants, but that aversion recurred to +her with disquieting insistence as she sat there on the edge of the +butte. + +It seemed to her that the serpent of immorality which had dragged its +trail across hers so many times was never to leave her, and she found +herself wondering about the house and about Carrington and her uncle. + +Carrington had bought the horse for herBilly; and she had accepted it +after some consideration. But what if Carrington had bought the house? +That would meanwhy, the people of Dawes, if they discovered itif +Carrington had bought itmight place their own interpretation upon the +fact that she was living in it. And the interpretation of the people +of Dawes would be no more charitable than that of the people of +Westwood! They would think + +She got up quickly, her face pale, and started toward the house, +determined to ask her uncle. + +Walking swiftly toward the front porch, where she had seen Parsons go, +she remembered that Parsons had told her he had arranged for the +house, but that might not mean that he had personally bought it. + +She meant to find out, and if Carrington owned the house, she would +not stay in it another nightnot even tonight. + +She was walking fast when she reached the edge of the porchalmost +running; and when she got to the nearest corner, she saw that the +porch was quite vacant; Parsons must have gone in. + +She stood for an instant at the porch-edge, a beam of silvery +moonlight streaming upon her through a break in the trees overhead, +convinced that Parsons had gone to bed; and convinced, likewise, that, +were she to disturb him now to ask the question that was in her mind, +he would laugh at her. + +She decided she would wait until the morning, and she was about to +return to the edge of the butte, when she realized that it had grown +rather late. She had not noticed how quickly the time had fled. + +She turned, intending to enter the house from one of the rear doors +through which she had emerged, when a sound reached her earsthe rapid +drumming of a horses hoofs. She wheeled, facing the direction from +which the sound cameand saw Carrington riding toward her, not more +than fifty feet distant. + +He saw her at the instant her gaze rested on himan instant before, +she surmised, for there was a huge grin on his face as she turned to +him. + +He was at her side before she could obey a sudden impulse to runfor +she did not wish to talk to him tonightand in another instant he had +dismounted and was standing close to her. + +All alone, eh? he laughed. And enjoying the moon? Do you know that +you made a ravishing picture, standing there with the light shining on +you? I saw you as you started to turn, and I shall remember the +picture all my life! You are more beautiful than ever, girl! + +Carrington was breathing fast. The girl thought he had been riding +hard. But, despite that explanation for the repressed excitement under +which he seemed to be laboring, the girl thought she detected the +presence of restrained passion in his eyes, and she shrank back a +little. + +She had often seen passion in his eyes, identical with what glowed in +them now, but she had always felt a certain immunity, a masterfulness +over him that had permitted her to feel that she could repulse him at +will. Now, however, she felt a sudden, cringing dread of him. The +dread, no doubt, was provoked by her uncles revelation of the mans +character; and, for the first time during her acquaintance with +Carrington, she felt a fear of him, and became aware of the +overpowering force and virility of the man. + +Her voice was a little tremulous when she answered: + +I was looking for Uncle Elam. He must have gone in. + +His face was not very distinct to her, for he was standing in a shadow +cast by a near-by tree, and she could not see the bruises that marred +the flesh, but it seemed to her that his face had never seemed so +repulsive. And the significance of his grin made her gasp. + +Thats good. Im glad he did go in; I did not come to see Parsons. + +She had meant to take him to task for what he had done to her uncle, +but there was something in his voice that made thoughts of defending +Parsons seem futilea need gone in the necessity to conserve her voice +and strength for an imminent crisis. + +For Carringtons voice, thick and vibrant, smote her with a +presentiment of danger to herself. She looked sharply at him, saw that +his face was red and bloated with passion and, taking a backward step, +she said shortly: + +I must go in. II promised Martha + +His voice interrupted her; she felt one of his hands on her arm, the +fingers gripping it tightly. + +No, you dont, he said, hoarsely; I came here to have a talk with +you, and I mean to have it! + +What do you mean? she asked. She was rigid and erect, but she could +not keep the quaver out of her voice. + +Playing the innocent, eh? he mocked, his voice dry and light. +Youve played innocent ever since I saw you the first time. It +doesnt go anymore. Youre going to face the music. He thrust his +face close to hers and the expression of his eyes thrilled her with +horror. + +What do you suppose I brought you here for? he demanded. Ill tell +you. I bought the house for you. Parsons knows whyDawes knows +whyeverybody knows. You ought to knowyou shall know. He laughed, +sneeringly. Westwood could tell you, or the woman who lived in the +Huggins house before you came. Martha could tell youshe lived here + +He heard her draw her breath sharply and he mocked her, gloating: + +Ah, Martha has told you! Well, youve got to face the music, I tell +you! Ive got things going my way herethe way Ive wanted things to +go since Ive been old enough to realize what life is. Ive got the +governor, the mayor, the judgeseverythingwith me, and Im going to +rule. Im going to rule, my way! If you are sensible, youll have +things pretty easy; but if youre going to try to balk me youre going +to payplenty! + +She did not answer, standing rigid in his grasp, her face chalk-white. +He did not notice her pallor, nor how she stood, paralyzed with dread; +and he thought because of her silence that she was going to passively +submit. He thought victory was near, and he was going to be +magnanimous in his moment of triumph. + +His grip on her arm relaxed and he leaned forward to whisper: + +Thats the girl. No fuss, no heroics. Well get along; well + +Her right hand struck his facea full sweep of the arm behind +itburning, stinging, sending him staggering back a little from its +very unexpectedness. And before he could make a move to recover his +equilibrium she had gone like a flash of light, as elusive as the +moonbeam in which she had stood when he had first come upon her. + +He cursed gutturally and leaped forward, running with great leaps +toward the rear of the house, where he had seen her vanish. He reached +the door through which she had gone, finding it closed and locked +against him. Stepping back a little, he hurled himself against the +door, sending it crashing from its hinges, so that he tumbled headlong +into the room and sprawled upon the floor. He was up in an instant, +tossing the wreck of the door from him, breathing heavily, cursing +frightfully; for he had completely lost his senses and was in the grip +of an insane rage over the knowledge that she had tricked him. + +Parsons heard the crash as the door went from its hinges. He got out +of bed in a tremor of fear and opened the door of his room, peering +into the big room that adjoined the dining-room. From the direction of +the kitchen he caught a thin shaft of lightfrom the kerosene-lamp +that Martha had placed on a table for Marions convenience. A big form +blotted out the light, casting a huge, gigantic shadow; and Parsons +saw the shadow on the ceiling of the room into which he looked. + +Huge as the shadow was, Parsons had no difficulty in recognizing it as +belonging to Carrington; and with chattering teeth Parsons quickly +closed his door, locked it, and stood against it, his knees knocking +together. + +Martha, too, had heard the crash. She bounded out of bed and ran to +the door of her room, swinging it wide, for instinct told her +something had happened to Marion. Her room was closer to the kitchen, +and she saw Carrington plainly, as he was rising from the dbris. And +she was just in time to see Marion slipping through the doorway of her +own room. And by the time Carrington got to his feet, Martha had heard +Marions door click shut, heard the lock snap home. + +Martha instantly closed the door of her own room, fastened it and ran +to another door that connected her room with Marions. She swung that +door open and looked into the girls room; heard the girl stifle a +shriekfor the girl thought Carrington was coming upon her from that +directionand then Martha was at the girls side, whispering to +herexcitedly comforting her. + +The damn trashhoundin you this way! He ain goin to hurt you, +honeynot one bit! + +Outside the door they could hear Carrington walking about in the room. +There came to the ears of the two women the scratch of a match, and +then a steady glimmer of light streaked into the room from the bottom +of the door, and they knew Carrington had lighted a lamp. A little +later, while Martha stood, her arms around the girl, who leaned +against the negro woman, very white and still, they heard Carrington +talking with Parsons. They heard Parsons protesting, Carrington +cursing him. + +He ain goin to git you, honey, whispered Martha. That man come +heah the firs day, an I knowed hes a rapscallion. She pointed +upward, to where a trap-door, partly open, appeared in the ceiling of +the room. + +Theres the attic, honey. Ill boost you, an you go up there an +hide from that wild man. You got to, for that worfless Parsons am +tellin him which room yous in. You hurryyou heah me! + +She helped the girl upward, and stood listening until the trap-door +grated shut. Then she turned and grinned at the door that led into the +big room adjoining the kitchen. Carrington was at it, his shoulder +against it; Martha could hear him cursing. + +Open up, here! came Carringtons voice through the door, muffled, +but resonant. Open the door, damn you, or Ill tear it down! + +Tear away, white man! giggled Martha softly. Theys a big sprise +waitin you when you git in heah! + +For an instant following Carringtons curses and demands there was a +silence. It was broken by a splintering crash, and the negro woman saw +the door split so that the light from the other room streaked through +it. But the door held, momentarily. Then Carrington again lunged +against it and it burst open, pieces of the lock flying across the +room. + +This time Carrington did not fall with the door, but reeled through +the opening, erect, big, a vibrant, mirthless laugh on his lips. + +The light from the other room streamed in past him, shining full upon +Martha, who stood, her hands on her hips, looking at the man. + +Carrington was disconcerted by the presence of Martha when he had +expected to see Marion. He stepped back, cursing. + +Martha giggled softly. + +What you doin in my room, man; just when Ise goin to retiah? You +git out o heahquick! Yo heah me? Yo aint got no business bustin +my door down! + +Bah! Carringtons voice was malignant with baffled rage. With one +step he was at Marthas side, his hands on her throat, his muscles +rigid and straining. + +Wheres Marion Harlan? he demanded. Tell me, you black devil, or +Ill choke hell out of you! + +Martha was not frightened; she giggled mockingly. + +That girl bust in heah a minute ago; then she bust out agin, runnin +fit to kill herself. I reckon by this time shes done throw herself +off the butterather than have you git her! + +Carrington shoved Martha from him, so that she staggered and fell; and +with a bound he was through the door that led into Marthas room. + +The negro woman did not move. She sat on the floor, a malicious grin +on her face, listening to Carrington as he raged through the house. + +Once, about five minutes after he left, Carrington returned and stuck +his head into the room. Martha still sat where Carrington had thrown +her. She did not care what Carrington did to the house, so long as he +was ignorant of the existence of the trap-door. + +And Carrington did not notice the door. For an hour Martha heard him +raging around the house, opening and slamming doors and overturning +furniture. Once when she did not hear him for several minutes, she got +up and went to one of the windows. She saw him, out at the stable, +looking in at the horses. + +Then he returned to the house, and Martha resumed her place on the +floor. Later, she heard Carrington enter the house again, and after +that she heard Parsons voice, raised in high-terrored protest. Then +there was another silence. Again Martha looked out of a window. This +time she saw Carrington on his horse, riding away. + +But for half an hour Martha remained at the window. She feared +Carringtons departure was a subterfuge, and she was not mistaken. For +a little later Carrington returned, riding swiftly. He slid from his +horse at a little distance from the house and ran toward it. Martha +was in the kitchen when he came in. He did not speak to her as he came +into the room, but passed her and again made a search of the house. +Passing Martha again he gave her a malevolent look, then halted at the +outside door. + +The mans wild rage seemed to have left him; he was calmpolite, even. + +Tell your mistress I am sorry for what has occurred. I am afraid I +was a bit excited. I shall not harm her; I wont bother her again. + +He stepped through the doorway and, going again to a window and +drawing back the curtain slightly, Martha watched him. + +Carrington went to the stable, entered, and emerged again presently, +leading two horsesParsons horse and Billy. He led the animals to +where his own horse stood, climbed into the saddle and rode away, the +two horses following. At the edge of the wood he turned and looked +back. Then the darkness swallowed him. + +For another half-hour Martha watched the Dawes trail from a window. +Then she drew a deep breath and went into Marions room, standing +under the trap-door. + +I reckon you kin come down now, honeyhes gone. + +A little later, with Marion standing near her in the room, the light +from the kerosene-lamp streaming upon them through the shattered door, +Martha was speaking rapidly: + +He acted mighty suspicious, honey; an hes up to some dogs trick, +shuah as youm alive. You got to git out of heah, honeymighty quick! +Pears he thinks you is hid somewhares around heah, an hes figgerin +on makin you stay heah. An if you wants to git away, yous got to +walk, for hes took the hosses! She shook her head, her eyes wide +with a reflection of the complete stupefaction that had descended upon +her. Laws Amighty, what a ragin devil that man is, honey! Ise seen +men _an_ menan I knowed a nigger once that was + +But Martha paused, for Marion was paying no attention to her. The girl +was pulling some articles of wearing apparel from some drawers, +packing them hurriedly into a small handbag, and Martha sprang quickly +to help her, divining what the girl intended to do. + +Thats right, honey; doan you stay heah in this house another minit! +You git out as quick as you kin. You go right over to that Squint +mans house an tell him to protect you. Cause yous goin to need +protection, honeyan dont you forgit it! + +The girls white face was an eloquent sign of her conception of the +danger that confronted her. But she spoke no word while packing her +handbag. When she was ready she turned to the door, to confront +Martha, who also carried a satchel. Together the two went out of the +house, crossed the level surrounding it, and began to descend the long +slope that led down into the mighty basin in which, some hours before, +the girl had seen the pin-point of light glimmering across the sea of +darkness toward her. And toward that light, as toward a beacon that +promised a haven from a storm, she went, Martha following. + +From a window of the house a man watched themParsonsin the grip of a +paralyzing terror, his pallid face pressed tightly against the glass +of the window as he watched until he could see them no longer. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIITHE WRONG ANKLE + + +Bud Hemmingway, the tall, red-faced young puncher who had assisted +Quinton Taylor in the sprained-ankle deception, saw the dawn breaking +through one of the windows of the bunkhouse when he suddenly opened +his eyes after dreaming of steaming flapjacks soaked in the sirup he +liked best. He stretched out on his back in the wall-bunk and licked +his lips. + +Lordy, Im hungry! + +But he decided to rest for a few minutes while he considered the +cookaway with the outfit to a distant corner of the range. + +He reflected bitterly that the cook was away most of the time, and +that a man fared considerably better with the outfit than he did by +staying at the home ranch. For one thing, when a man was with the +outfit he got grub, without having to rustle it himselfthat was why +it was better to be with the outfit. + +A man dont git nothin to eat at all, scarcelywhen hes got to +rustle his own grub, mourned Bud. Hes got the appetite, all right, +but he dont know how to rassle the ingredients which goes into good +grub. Take them flapjacks, now. (He licked his lips again.) Theyre +scrumptuous. But that damned hyena which slings grub for the outfit +wont tell a man how he makes em, which greediness is goin to git +him into a heap of trouble some daywhen I git so hungry that I feel a +heap reckless! + +Bud watched the dawn broaden. He knew he ought to get up, for this was +the day on which Marion Harlan was to visit the Arrowand Taylor had +warned him to be on hand early to bandage the ankle againTaylor +having decided that not enough time had elapsed to effect a cure. + +But Bud did not get up until a glowing shaft entering the window +warned him that the sun was soon to appear above the horizon. Then he +bounded out of the bunk and lurched heavily to an east window. + +What he saw when he looked out made him gasp for breath and hang hard +to the window-sill, while his eyes bulged and widened with +astonishment. For upon the porch of the ranchhouseseated in the +identical chairs in which they had sat during their previous visit, +were Marion Harlan and the negro woman! + +Bud stepped back from the window and rubbed his eyes. Then he went to +the window again and looked with all his vision. And then a grin +covered his face. + +For the two women seemed to be asleep. Bud would have sworn they were +asleep! For the negress was hunched up in her chaira big, almost +shapeless black masswith her chin hidden in the swell of her ample +bosom; while the girl was leaning back, her figure slack with the +utter relaxation that accompanies deep sleep, her eyes closed and her +hat a little awry. Bud was certain _she_ was asleep, for no girl in +her waking moments would permit her hat to rest upon her head in that +negligent manner. + +Bad scratched his head many times while hurriedly getting into his +clothing. + +Im bettin _they_ didnt wait for flapjacks _this_ morning! he +confided to himself, mentally. Must like it here a heap, he +reflected. Well, theres nothin like gittin an early start when +youre goin anywhere! he grinned. + +Stealthily he opened the door of the bunkhouse, watching furtively as +he stepped out, lest he be seen; and then when he noted that the women +did not move, he darted across the yard, vaulted the corral fence, ran +around the corner of the ranchhouse, carefully opened a rear door, and +presently stood beside a bed gently shaking its tousled-haired +occupant. + +Git up, you sufferin fool! he whispered hoarsely; theyre here! + +Taylors eyes snapped open and were fixed on Bud with a resentful +glare, which instantly changed to reserved amusement when he saw Buds +bulging eyes and general evidence of suppressed excitement. + +He yawned sleepily, stretching his arms wide. + +The outfit, eh? Well, tell Bothwell Ill see him + +Bothwell, hell! sneered Bud. It aint the outfit! It aint no +damned range boss! Its _her_, I tell you! An if youre figgerin on +gittin that ankle bandaged before That starts you to runnin, eh? +he jeered. + +For Taylor was out of bed with one leap. In another he had Bud by the +shoulders and had crowded him back against the wall. + +Bud, he said, Ive a notion to manhandle you! Didnt I tell you to +have me up early? + +Git your fingers out of my windpipe, objected Bud. Early! Sufferin +shorthorns! Did you want me to git you up last night? Its only four, +nowan theyve been here for hours, I reckonmebbe all night. Hows a +man to know anything about a woman? + +Taylor was getting into his clothes. Bud watched him, marveling at his +deft movements. Youre sure a wolf at hustlin when _shes_ around! +he offered. + +But he got no reply. Taylor was dressed in a miraculously short time, +and then he sat down on the edge of the bed and stuck a foot out +toward Bud. + +Shut up, and get the bandage on! he directed. + +Bud dove for a dresser and pulled out a drawer, returning instantly +with a roll of white cloth, which he unfolded as he knelt beside the +bed. For an instant after kneeling he scratched his head, looking at +Taylors feet in perplexity, and then he looked up at Taylor, his face +thoughtfully furrowed. + +Which ankle was it I bandaged before? he demanded; Ive forgot! + +Taylor groaned. He, too, had forgotten. Since he had talked with Neil +Norton about the ankle directly after the fight with Carrington in +front of the courthouse he had tried in vain to remember which ankle +he had bandaged for Miss Harlans benefit. Driven to the necessity of +making a quick decision, his brain became a mere muddle of desperate +conjecture. Out of the muddle sprang a disgust for Bud for _his_ poor +memory. + +Youve forgot! he blurted at Bud. Why, damn it, you ought to know +which one it wasyou bandaged it! + +Well, grinned Bud gleefully, it was _your_ ankle, wasnt it? +Strikes me that if I busted one of _my_ ankles I wouldnt forget which +one it was! Leastways, if Id busted it just to hang around a girl! + +Taylor sneered scornfully. You wouldnt bust an ankle for a girlyou +aint got backbone enough. Hell! he exploded; do something! Take a +chance and bandage one of themI dont care a damn which one! If she +noticed the other time, Ill tell her that one was cured and I busted +the other one! + +Shed know you was lyin, grinned Bud. He stood erect, his eyes +alight with an inspiration. Wrap up both of em! he suggested. If +she goes to gittin curiouswhich she will, bein a womantell her you +busted both of em! + +It wont do, objected Taylor; I couldnt lie that heavy an keep a +straight face. + +Bud began to wrap the left ankle. As he worked, the doubt in his eyes +began to fade and was succeeded by conviction. When he finished, he +stood up and grinned at Taylor. + +Thats the one, he said; the left. I mind, now, that we talked +about it. You go right out to her, limpin, the same as you done +before, an shell not say a word about it. Youll see. + +Taylor grunted disbelievingly, and hobbled to the front door. He +looked back at Bud, who was snickering, made a malicious grimace at +him, and softly opened the door. + +Miss Harlan had been asleep, but she was not asleep when Taylor opened +the door. Indeed, she was never more wide awake in her life. At the +sound of the door opening she turned her head and sat stiffly erect, +to face Taylor. + +Taylor looked apologetically at his ankle, his cheeks tinged with a +flush of embarrassment. + +This ankle, maamit aint quite well yet. Youll excuse me not being +gone. But Budthats my friendsays it wont be quite right for a few +days yet. But I wont be in your wayand I hope you enjoy yourself. + +Miss Harlan was enjoying herself. She was enjoying herself despite the +shadow of the tragedy that had almost descended upon her. And mirth, +routing the bitter, resentful emotions that had dwelt in her heart +during the night, twitched mightily at her lips and threatened to +curve them into a smile. + +For during her last visit to the Arrow she had noted particularly that +it had been Taylors _right_ ankle which had been bandaged, and now he +appeared before her with the _left_ swathed in white cloth! + +But even had she not known, Taylors face must have told her of the +deception. For there was guilt in his eyes, and doubt, and a sort of +breathless speculation, andshe was certainan intense curiosity to +discover whether or not she was aware of the trick. + +But she looked straight at him, betraying nothing of the emotions that +had seized her. + +Does it pain you _very_ much? she inquired. + +Had not Taylor been so eager to make his case strong, he might have +noted the exceedingly light sarcasm of her voice. + +It hurts a heap, maam, he declared. Why, last night + +I shouldnt think it would be necessary to lie about an ankle, she +said, coldly. + +Taylors face went crimson, and in his astonishment he stepped heavily +upon the traitor foot and stood, convicted, before her, looking very +much like a reproved schoolboy. + +She rose from her chair, and now she turned from Taylor and stood +looking out over the big level, while behind her Taylor shifted his +feet, scowled and felt decidedly uncomfortable. + +From where Taylor watched her she looked very rigid and indignantwith +her head proudly erect and her shoulders squared; and he could almost +_feel_ that her eyes were flashing with resentment. + +Yet had he been able to see her face, he would have seen her lips +twitching and her eyes dancing with a light that might have puzzled +him. For she had already forgiven him. + +Theres lies_and_ lies, he offered palliatively, breaking a painful +silence. + +There was no answer, and Taylor, desperately in earnest in his desire +for forgiveness, and looking decidedly funny to Bud Hemmingway, who +was watching from the interior of the room beyond the open door, +walked across the porch with no suspicion of a limp, and halted near +the girl. + +Shucks, Miss Harlan, he said. Im sure caught; and Im admitting it +was a sort of mean trick to pull off on you. But if you wanted to be +near a girl youd taken a shine tothat you liked a whole lot, I mean, +Miss Harlanand you couldnt think of any _good_ excuse to be around +her? You couldnt blame a man for thatcould you? Besides, he added, +when peering at the side of her face, he saw the twitching lips, ready +to break into a smile, Ill make it up to you! + +How? It was a strained voice that answered him. + +By manhandling Bud Hemmingway for wrapping up the wrong ankle, +maam! he declared. + +Both heard a cackle of mirth from the room behind them. And both +turned, to see Bud Hemmingway retreating through a door into the +kitchen. + +It might have been Buds action that brought the smile to Miss +Harlans face, or it might have been that she had forgiven Taylor. But +at any rate Taylor read the smile correctly, and he succeeded in +looking properly repentant when he felt Miss Harlans gaze upon him. + +I wont play any more trickson you, he declared. You aint holding +it against me? + +If you will promise not to harm Bud, she said. + +That goes, he agreed, and went into the house to get his discarded +boot. + +When he reappeared, Miss Harlan was again seated in the chair. Swiftly +her thoughts had reverted to the incident of the night before, and her +face was wan and pale, and her lips pressed tightly together in a +brave effort to repress the emotions that rioted within her. In spite +of her courage, and of her determination not to let Taylor know of +what had happened to her, her eyes were moist and her lips quivering. + +He stepped close to her and peered sharply at her, standing erect +instantly, his face grave. + +Shucks! he said, accusingly; I wouldnt be called hospitablenow, +would I? Standing here, talking a lot of nonsense, and youyou must +have started _early_ to get here by this time! Again he flashed a +keen glance at her, and his voice leaped. + +Something has happened, Miss Harlan! What is it? + +She got up again and faced him, smiling, her eyes shining mistily +through the moisture in them. She was almost on the verge of tears, +and her voice was tremulous when she answered: + +Mr. Taylor, II have come to ask if youstillif your offer about the +Arrow is still openifI could stay heremyself and Martha; if I could +accept the offer you made about giving me fathers share of the Arrow. +ForforI cant go back Eastto Westwood, and I wont stay in the +Huggins house a minute longer! + +Sure! he said, with a grim smile, aware of her profound emotion; +aware, too, that something had gone terribly wrong with herto make +her accept what she had once considered charityan offer made out of +his regard for her father. + +But, look here, he added. Whats wrong? Theres something + +Plenty, Mr. Squint. + +This was Martha. She had been awake for some little time, sitting back +with her eyes closed, listening. She was now sitting erect, her eyes +shining with eagerness to tell all she knew of the nights happenings. + +Plenty, Mr. Squint, she repeated, paying no attention to Miss +Harlans sharp, Martha! That big rapscallion, Carrington, has been +makin things mighty misable for Missy Harlan. He come to the house +las night an bust the door down, tryin to git at missy, an shes +run away from him like a whitehead. Then, when he finds he cant +diskiver where I hide missy he run the hosses off an we have to walk +heah. Thats all, Mr. Squint, ceptin that me an missy doan stay in +that house no moreif we have to walk Eastall the way! + +Miss Harlan saw a flash light Taylors eyes; saw the flash recede, to +be replaced by a chilling glow. And his lips grew straight and +stifftwo hard lines pressed firmly together. She saw his chest swell +and noted the tenseness of his muscles as he stepped closer to her. + +Was your uncle there with you, Miss Harlan? + +She nodded, and saw his lips curve with a mirthless smile. + +What did Carrington do? The passion in his voice made an icy shiver +run over hershe felt the terrible earnestness that had come over him, +and a pulse of fear gripped her. + +She had never felt more like crying than at this instant, and until +this minute she had not known how deeply she had been affected by +Carringtons conduct, nor how tired she was, nor how she had yearned +for the sympathy Taylor was giving her. But she felt that something in +Taylors manner portended violence, and she did not want him to risk +his life fighting Carringtonfor her. + +You see, she explained, Mr. Carrington did not really _do_ +anything. He just came there, and was impertinent, and impudent, and +insulting. And he told me that he had bought the house; that it didnt +belong to unclethough I thought it did; and that the people of +Dawesand everywherewould thinkthingsabout meas the people of +Westwood hadthought. And IIwhy, I just couldnt stay + +Thats enough, Miss Harlan. So Carrington didnt do anything. His +voice was vibrant with some sternly repressed passion. + +So you walked all the way here, and you have had no breakfast, he +said, shortly. He turned toward the front door, his voice snapping +like the report of a rifle: + +Bud! + +And, looking through the doorway, Miss Harlan saw Bud jump as though +he had been shot. He appeared in the doorway, serious-faced and alert. + +Rustle some breakfastquick! And hoe out that spare bedroom. Jump! + +Taylor understood perfectly what had happened, for he remembered what +he had overheard between Carrington and Parsons on the train. To be +sure, Miss Harlan knew nothing about the conversation, and so she +mentally commended Taylors quickness of perception, and felt grateful +to him because he had spared her the horror of explaining further. + +She sat down again, aware of the startling unconventionality of this +visit and of the conversation that had resulted from it, but oppressed +with no sense of shame. For it seemed entirely natural that she should +have come to Taylor, though she supposed that was because he had been +her fathers friend, and that she had no other person to go tonot +even if she went East, to Westwood. But she would not have mentioned +what had happened at the big house if Martha had not taken the +initiative. + +She was startled over the change that had come in Taylor. Watching him +covertly as he stood near her, and following his movements as he +walked around in the room, helping Bud, generously leaving her to +herself and her thoughts, she looked in vain for that gentleness and +subtle thoughtfulness that hitherto had seemed to distinguish him. She +had admired him for his easy-going manner, the slow deliberateness of +his glances, the quizzical gleam of his eyes. + +But she saw him now as many of the men in this section of the country +had seen him when he faced the necessity for rapid, determined action. +It was the other side of his character; before she had heard his +voice, and before she had seen him smilethe stern, unyielding side of +him which she had discovered always was ready for the blows of +adversity and enmityhis fighting side. + +And when she went into the house to breakfast, feeling the strangeness +of it allof the odd fate which had led her to the Arrow; the queer +reluctance that affected her over the action in accepting the +hospitality of a man whoexcept for his association with her +fatherwas almost a stranger to hershe found that he did not intend +to insinuate his presence upon her. + +He called her, and stood near the table when she and Martha went in. +Then he told her gravely that the house was hers, and that he and +Bud would live in the bunkhouse. + +And when you get settled, he told her, as he stood in the doorway, +ready to go, well write those articles of partnership. And, he +added, dont you go to worrying about Carrington. If he comes here, +and Bud or me aint here, youll find a loaded rifle hanging behind +the front door. Dont be afraid to use ittheres no law against +killing snakes out here! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIIITHE BEAST AGAIN + + +Carrington was conscious of the error his unrestrained passion had +driven him to committing. Yet he had not been sincere when he had +declared to Martha that he wouldnt bother the girl again. For after +leading the two horses to Dawes and arranging for their care, he +hunted up Danforth. It was nearly midnight when Danforth reached +Carringtons rooms in the Castle, and Carrington was in a sullen mood. + +I want two or three men who will do what they are told and keep their +mouths shut, he told Danforth. Get themquickand send them to the +Huggins housemine, nowand have them stay there. Nobody is to leave +the housenot even to come to town. Understand? Not even Parsons. +Hustle! There is no train out of here tonight? No? Well, thats all +right. Get going! + +Danforth had noticed Carringtons sullenness, and the strained +excitement of his manner, and there was in Danforths mind an +inclination to warn Carrington about including the woman in the scheme +to subjugate Dawesfor he knew Carrington of old; but a certain light +in the big mans eyes warned Danforth and he shut his half-opened lips +and departed on his errand. + +In an hour he returned, telling Carrington that his orders had been +obeyed. + +Danforth seated himself in a chair near one of the front windows and +waited, for he knew Carrington still had something to say to himthe +mans eyes told him, for they were alight with a cold, speculative +gleam as they rested on Danforth. + +At last, after a silence that lasted long, Carrington said, shortly: + +What do you know about Taylor? + +What I told you beforethe first day. And that isnt much. + +I had a talk with Parsons the other dayabout Larry Harlan, said +Carrington. It seems that Larry Harlan worked for Taylorfor two or +three years. I didnt question Parsons closely about the connection +between Taylor and Harlan, but it seems to me that Parsons mentioned a +mine. What about it? Do you know anything about it? + +Danforth related what he knew regarding the incident of the minethe +story told by Taylor when he returned after Larry Harlans deathand +Carringtons eyes gleamed with interest. + +Do you think he told a straight story? he asked. + +He watched Danforth intently. + +Hell, yes! declared the other. Hes too square to lie! + +Five minutes later Carrington said good-night to Danforth. But +Carrington did not immediately go to bed; he sat for a long time in a +chair near the window looking out at the buildings of Dawes. + +In the courtroom early the next morning he leaned over Judge +Littlefields desk, smiling. + +Did you ever hear of Quinton Taylor being connected with a mining +venture? + +Well, rather. + +Where? + +At Nogelin the Sangre de Christo Mountains. + +How far is that? + +About ten milesdue west. + +What do you know about the mine? + +Very little. Taylor and a man named Lawrence Harlan registered the +claim here. I heard that Harlan diedwas killed in an accident. Soon +afterward, Taylor sold the mineto a man named Thorntonfor a +consideration, not mentioned. The judge looked sharply at Carrington. +Why this inquiry? he asked; do you think there is anything wrong +about the transaction? + +There is no determining that until an investigation is made. +Carrington laughed as he left the judge. + +Later he got on his horse and rode to the big house. On the front +porch, seated in a chair, smoking, he saw one of the men Danforth had +sent in obedience to his order; at the rear of the house was another; +and, lounging carelessly on the grass near the edge of the butte +fringing the big valley, he saw still anothermen who seemed to find +their work agreeable, for they grinned at Carrington when he rode up. + +Carrington dismounted and entered the houseby one of the rear +doorswhich he had wrecked the night before. He went in boldly, +grinning, for he anticipated that by this time Marion Harlan would +have reached that stage of intimidation where she would no longer +resist him. + +At first he was only mildly disturbed at the appearance of the +interior; for nothing had been done to bring order out of the chaos he +had created the night before, and the condition of the furniture, and +the atmosphere of gloomy emptiness that greeted him indicated nothing. +The terror under which the girl had labored during the night might +still be gripping her. + +He had no suspicion that the girl had left the house until after he +had looked into all the rooms but the one occupied by Parsons. Then a +conviction that she _had_ fled seized him; he scowled and leaped to +the door of Parsons room, pounding heavily upon it. + +Parsons did not answer his knock, and an instant later, when +Carrington forced the door and stepped into the room, he saw Parsons +standing near a window, pallid and shaking. + +With a bound Carrington reached Parsons side and gripped the man by +the collar of his coat. + +Wheres Miss Harlan? he demanded. He noted that Parsons swayed in +his grasp, and he peered at the other with a malignant joy. He had +always hated Parsons, tolerating him because of Parsons money. + +Shes gone, whispered Parsons tremulously. II tried to stop her, +knowing you wouldnt want it, butshe went awayanyway. + +Where? Carringtons fingers were gripping Parsons shoulder near the +throat with a bitter, viselike strength that made the man cringe and +groan from the pain of it. + +Dont, Jim; for Gods sake, dont! Youre hurting me! II couldnt +help it; I couldnt stop her! + +The abject, terrified appeal in his eyes; the fawning, doglike +subjection of his manner, enraged Carrington. He shook the little man +with a force that racked the other from head to heel. + +Where did she godamn you! + +To the Arrow. + +Aroused to desperation by the flaming fury that blazed in Carringtons +eyes, Parsons tried to wrench himself free, tugging desperately, and +whining: Dont, Jim! For he knew that he was to be punished for his +dereliction. + +He shrieked when Carrington struck him; a sound which died in his +throat as the blow landed. Carrington left him lie where he fell, and +went out to the men, interrogating the one he had seen on the front +porch. + +From that person he learned that no one had left the house since the +men had come; so that Carrington knew Marion must have departed soon +after he had left the night beforeor some time during the time of his +departure and the arrival of the men. + +Ten minutes after emerging from the house he went in again. Parsons +was sitting on the floor of his room, swaying weakly back and forth, +whining tonelessly, his lips loose and drooling blood. + +For an instant Carrington stood over him, looking down at him with a +merciless, tigerlike grin. Then he stooped, gripped Parsons by the +shoulders, and, lifting him bodily, threw him across the bed. Parsons +did not resist, but lay, his arms flung wide, watching the big man +fearfully. + +Dont hit me again, Jim! he pleaded. Jim, Ive never done anything +to you! + +Bah! Carrington leaned over the other, grinning malevolently. + +Youve double-crossed me, Elam, he said silkily. Youre through. +Get out of here before I kill you! I want to; and if you are here in +five minutes, I shall kill you! Go to the Arrowwith your niece. Tell +her what you know about meif you havent done so already. And tell +her that I am coming for herand for Taylor, too! Now, get out! + +In less than five minutes, while Carrington was at the front of the +house talking with the three men, Parsons tottered from a rear door, +staggered weakly into some dense shrubbery that skirted the far side +of the house, and made his slow way toward the big slope down which +Marion and Martha had gone some hours before. + +Retribution had descended swiftly upon Parsons; it seemed to him he +was out of it, crushed and beaten. But no thread of philosophy weaved +its way through the fabric of the mans complete misery and +humiliation, and no reflection that he had merely reaped what he had +sown glimmered in his consciousness. He was merely conscious that he +had been beaten and robbed by the man who had always been his +confederate, and as he reeled down the big slope on his way to the +Arrow he whined and moaned in a toneless voice of vengeanceand more +vengeance. + + + + +CHAPTER XIXTHE AMBUSH + + +The incident of the fight between Carrington, Danforth, Judge +Littlefield, and Taylor in front of the courthouse had eloquently +revealed a trait of Taylors character which was quite generally known +to the people of Dawes, and which, in a great measure, accounted for +Taylors popularity. + +Few of Dawess citizens had ever seen Taylor angry. Neil Norton had +seen him in a rage once, and the memory of the mans face was still +vivid. A few of the towns citizens had watched him oncewhen he had +thrashed a gunman who had insulted himand the story of that fight +still taxed the vocabularies of those who had witnessed it. One +enthusiastic watcher, at the conclusion of the fight, had +picturesquely termed Taylor a regular he-wolf in a scrap; and thus +there was written into the traditions of the town a page of his +history which carried the lesson, repeated by many tongues: + +Dont rile Taylor! + +Riding into Dawes about two hours after he had heard from Marion +Harlan the story of the attack on her by Carrington, Taylors face was +set and grim. His ancient hatred of Carrington was intensified by +another passion that had burned its way into his heart, filling it +with a primitive lust to destroyjealousy. + +He dismounted in front of the Castle Hotel, and, entering, he asked +the clerk where he could find Carrington. The clerk could give him no +information, and Taylor went out, the clerks puzzled gaze following +him. + +Evidently he doesnt want to congratulate Carrington about anything, +the clerk confided to a bystander. + +Mounting his horse, Taylor rode down the street to the building which +Danforth had selected as a place from which to administer the +government of Dawes. A gilt sign over the front bore upon it the +words: + +CITY HALL. + +Taylor went inside, and found Danforth seated at a desk. The latter +looked sourly at his visitor until he caught a glimpse of his eyes, +then his face paled, and he sat silent until Taylor spoke: + +Wheres Carrington? + +I havent seen Carrington this morning, lied Danforth, for he _had_ +seen Carrington some time before, riding out of town toward the +Huggins house. He suspected Carringtons errand was in some way +concerned with the three men who had been sent there. But he divined +from the expression in Taylors eyes that trouble between Taylor and +Carrington was imminent, and he would not set Taylor on the others +trail without first warning Carrington. + +He met Taylors straight, cold look of disbelief with a vindictive +smirk, which grew venomous as Taylor wheeled and walked out. Taylor +had not gone far when Danforth called a man to his side, whispered +rapidly to him, telling him to hurry. Later the man slipped out of the +rear door of the building, mounted a horse, and rode hurriedly down +the river trail toward the Huggins house. + +Taylor rode to the _Eagle_ office, but Norton was not there, and so, +pursuing his quest, Taylor looked into saloons and stores, and various +other places. Men who knew him noted his taciturnityfor he spoke +little except to greet a friend here and there shortlyand commented +upon his abrupt manner. + +Whats up with Taylor? asked a man who knew him. Looks sort of +riled. + +Taylor found Carrington in none of the places in which he looked. He +returned to the _Eagle_ office, and found Norton there. He greeted +Norton with a short: + +Seen Carrington? + +Why, yes. Norton peered closely at his friend. What in blazes is +wrong? His thoughts went to another time, when he had seen Taylor as +he appeared now, and he drew a deep breath. + +Briefly Taylor told him, and when the tale was ended, Nortons eyes +were blazing with indignation. + +So, thats the kind of a whelp he is! he said. Well, he added, I +saw him go out on the river trail a while ago; its likely hes gone +to the Huggins house. + +Hisnow, said Taylor; thats what makes it worse. Well, he added +as he stepped toward the door, Ill be going. + +Be careful, Squint, warned Norton, placing a hand on his friends +shoulder. I know you can lick himand I hope you give him all thats +coming to him. But watch himhes tricky! He paused. If you need any +helpsomeone to go with you, to keep an eye + +Its a one-man job, grinned Taylor mirthlessly. + +Youll promise you wont be thinking of that anklethis time? said +Norton seriously. + +Taylor permitted himself a faint smile. Thats all explained now, he +said. Shes been a lot generousand forgiving. No, he added, I +wont be thinking of that anklenow! + +And then, his lips setting again, he crossed the sidewalk, mounted +Spotted Tail, and rode through town to the river trail. Watching him, +Norton saw him disappear in some timber that fringed the river. + + * * * * * + +Carrington had finished his talk with the three men he had set to +guard the Huggins house. The men were told to stay until they received +orders from Carrington to leave. And they were to report to him +immediately if anyone came. + +Carrington had watched Parsons go down the big slope; and for a long +time after he had finished his talk with the three men he stood on the +front porch of the house watching the progress made by Parsons through +the basin. + +Following Marion, Carrington assured himself, with a crooked smile. +Well, Ill know where to get both of them when I want them. + +Carrington felt not the slightest tremor of pity for Parsons. He +laughed deep in his throat with a venomous joy as he saw Parsons +slowly making his way through the big basin; for he knew Parsonshe +knew that the craven nature of the man would prevent him from +attempting any reprisal of a vigorous character. + +Yet the exultation in the big mans heart was dulled with a slight +regret for his ruthless attack on Marion Harlan. He should not have +been so eager, he told himself; he should have waited; he should have +insinuated himself into her good graces, and then + +Scowling, he got on his horse and rode up the Dawes trail, shouting a +last word of caution to the three menone seated on the front porch, +the other two lounging in the shade of a tree near by. + +Half a mile from the house, riding through a timber grove, he met the +man Danforth had sent to him. The latter gave Carrington the message +he carried, which was merely: Taylor is looking for you. + +Coming here? he asked the man sharply. + +I reckon he will beif he cant find you in town, said the man. +Danforth said Taylor was a heap fussed up, an killin mad! + +A grayish pallor stole over Carringtons face, and he drew a quick +breath, sending a rapid, dreading glance up the Dawes trail. Then, +coincident with a crafty backward looktoward the Huggins housethe +grayish pallor receded and a rush of color suffused his face. He spoke +shortly to the man: + +Sneak backby a roundabout trail. Dont let Taylor see you! + +He watched while the man urged his horse deep into the fringing +timber. Carrington could see him for a time as he rode, and then, when +horse and rider had vanished, Carrington wheeled his horse and sent it +clattering back along the trail to the big house. + +Arriving there, he called the three men to him and talked fast to +them. The talk ended, the men ran for their horses, and a few minutes +later they raced up the river trail toward Dawes, their faces grim, +their eyes alert. + +About a mile up the trail, where a wood of spruce and fir-balsam +spread dark shadows over the ground, and an almost impenetrable growth +of brush fringed the narrow, winding path over which any rider going +to the big house must pass, they separated, two plunging deep into the +brush on one side, and one man secreting himself on the other side. + +They urged their horses far back, where they could not be seen. And +then, concealing themselves behind convenient bushes, they waited, +their eyes trained on the Dawes trail, their ears attuned to catch the +slightest sound that might come from that direction. + +Back at the big househaving arranged the ambuscadeCarrington drew a +deep breath of relief and smiled evilly. He thought he knew why Taylor +was looking for him. Marion had gone to the Arrow, to tell Taylor what +had happened at the big house, and Taylor, in a jealous rage, intended +to punish him. Well, Taylor could come now. + + + + +CHAPTER XXA FIGHT TO A FINISH + + +And Taylor was coming. The big black horse he was ridingwhich he +had named Spotted Tail because of the white blotches that +startlingly relieved his somber sable coatwas never in better +condition. He stepped lightly, running in long, smooth leaps down the +narrow trail, champing at the bit, keen of eye, alert, eager, snorting +his impatience over the tight rein his rider kept on him. + +But Spotted Tail was not more eager than his rider. Taylor, however, +knowing that at any instant he might run plump into Carrington, +returning from the big house, was forced to restrain his impatience. +Therefore, except on the straight reaches of the trail, he was forced +to pull the black down. + +But they were traveling fast when they reached the timber grove in +which Carringtons men were concealed; and yet on the damp earth of +the trail, where the sunlight could not penetrate, and where the +leaves of past summers had fallen, to rot and weave a pulpy carpet, +the rush of Spotted Tails passing created little sound. + +Within a hundred feet of the spot where Carringtons men were +concealed, Spotted Tail shot his ears forward stiffly and raised his +muzzle inquiringly. Taylor, noting the action, and suspecting that +instinct had warned Spotted Tail of the approach of another horse, +drew the animal down and rode forward at a walk, for he felt that it +must be Carringtons horse which was approaching. + +Rounding a sharp turn in the trail, Taylor could look ahead for +perhaps a hundred feet. He saw no rider advancing toward him, and he +leaned forward, slapping the blacks neck in playful reproach. + +As he moved he heard the heavy crash of a pistol shot and felt the +bullet sing past his head. Another pistol barked venomously from some +brush on his right, and still another from his left. + +But none of the bullets struck Taylor. For the black horse, startled +by Taylors playful movement when all his senses were strained to +detect the location of his kind on the trail, had made an involuntary +forward leap, thus whisking his rider out of the line of fire. And +before either of the three men could shoot again, Spotted Tail had +flashed down the traila streak of somber black against the green +background of the trees. + +He fled over the hundred feet of straight trail and had vanished +around a bend before the Carrington men could move their weapons +around impeding branches of the brush that covered them. There was no +stopping Spotted Tail now, for he was in a frenzy of terrorand he +made a mere rushing black blot as he emerged from the timber and fled +across an open space toward another woodthe wood that surrounded the +big house. + +Standing on the front porch of the big house, nervously smoking a +cigar, his face set in sullen lines, his eyes fixed on the Dawes +trail, Carrington heard the shots. He sighed, grinned maliciously, and +relaxed his vigilance. + +Hes settled by now, he said. + +He looked at one of the chairs standing on the porch, thought of +sitting in one of them to await the coming of the three men, decided +he was too impatient to sit, and began walking back and forth on the +porch. + +He had thrown a half-smoked cigar away and was lighting another when +he saw a black blot burst from the edge of a timber-clump beyond an +open space. The match flared and went out as Carrington held it to the +end of the cigar, for there was something strangely familiar in the +shape of the black bloteven with it heading directly toward him. An +instant later, the blot looming larger in his vision, Carrington +dropped cigar and match and stood staring with wild, fear-haunted eyes +at the rushing black horse. + +Carrington stood motionless a little longeruntil the black horse, its +rider sitting straight in the saddle, in cowboy fashion, reached the +edge of the wood surrounding the house. Then Carrington, cursing, his +lips in a hideous pout, drew a pistol from a hip-pocket. And when the +black horse was within fifty feet of him, and still coming at a speed +which there was no gauging, Carrington leveled the pistol. + +Oncetwicethree, four, five, six times he pulled the trigger of the +weapon. Carrington saw a grim, mocking smile on the riders face, and +knew none of his bullets had taken effect. + +Unarmed now, he was suddenly stricken with a panic of fear; and while +the rider of the black horse was dismounting at the edge of the porch, +Carrington dove for the front door of the house and vanished inside, +slamming the door behind him, directly in the riders face. + +When Taylor threw the door open he saw Carrington, far back in the +room, swinging a chair over his head. At Taylors appearance he threw +the chair with all the force his frenzy of fear could put into the +effort. Taylor ducked, and the chair flew past him, sailing +uninterruptedly outside and over the porch railing. + +Carrington ran through the big front room, through the next roomthe +sitting-roomknocking chairs over in his flight, throwing a big center +table at his silent, implacable pursuer. He slammed the sitting-room +door and tried to lock it, but he could not turn the key quickly +enough, and Taylor burst the door open, almost plunging against +Carrington as he came through it. + +Carrington ran into the dining-room, shoved the dining-room table in +Taylors way as Taylor tried to reach him; but Taylor leaped over the +obstruction, and when Carrington dodged into Marion Harlans room, +Taylor was so close that he might have grasped the big man. + +Taylor had said no word. The big man saw two guns swinging at Taylors +hips, and he wondered vaguely why the man did not use them. It +occurred to Carrington as he plunged through Marion Harlans room into +Marthas, and from there to the kitchen, and back again to the +dining-room, that Taylor was not going to shoot him, and his panic +partially left him. + +And yet there was a gleam in Taylors eyes that made his soul cringe +in terrorthe cold, bitter fury of a peaceloving man thoroughly +aroused. + +Twice, as Taylor pursued Carrington through the sitting-room again and +into another big room that adjoined it, Carringtons courage revived +long enough to permit him to consider making a stand against Taylor, +but each time as he stiffened with the determination, the terrible +rage in Taylors eyes dissuaded him, and he continued to evade the +clash. + +But he knew that the clash must come, and when, in their rapid, +headlong movements, Carrington came close to the front door and tried +to slip out of it, Taylor lunged against him and struck at him, the +fist just grazing Carringtons jaw, the big man understood that Taylor +was intent on beating him with his fists. + +Had it not been for his previous encounter with Taylor, Carrington +would not have hesitated, for he knew how to protect himself in a +fight; but there was something in Taylors eyes now to add to the +memory of that other fight, and Carrington wanted no more of it. + +But at last he was forced to stand. Ducking to evade the blow aimed at +his jaw when he tried to dart out of the front door, he slipped. +Reeling, in an effort to regain his equilibrium, he plunged into +another big room. It was a room that was little usedan old-fashioned +parlor, kept trim and neat against the coming of visitors, but a room +whose gloominess the occupants of the house usually avoided. + +The shades were down, partly concealing heavy wooden blindswhich were +closed. And the only light in the room was that which came from a +little square window high up in the side wall. + +Before Carrington could regain his balance Taylor had entered the +room. He closed the door behind him, placed his back against it, +locked it, and grinned felinely at the big man. + +Your men are coming, Carrington, he saidhear them? In the silence +that followed his words both stood, listening to the beat of hoofs +near the house. Theyll be trying to get in here in a minute, went +on Taylor. But before they get in Im going to knock your head off! +And without further warning he was upon Carrington, striking bitterly. + +It seemed to Carrington that the man was endowed with a savage +strength entirely out of proportion to his stature, and that he was +able to start terrific, deadening blows from any angle. For though +Carrington was a strong man and had had some fighting experience, he +could neither evade Taylors blows nor stand against the impact of +them. + +He went reeling around the room under the impetus of Taylors terrible +rushes, struggling to defend himself, to dodge, to clinch, to evade +somehow the fists that were flying at him from all directions. He +could not get an instants respite in which to set himself. Three +times in succession he was knocked down so heavily that the house +shook with the crash of his body striking the floor, and each time +when he got to his feet he tried to fight Taylor off in an endeavor to +set himself for a blow. But he could not. He was knocked against the +walls of the room, and hammered away from them with stiff, jolty, +venomous blows that jarred him from head to heels. He tried vainly to +cover upwith his arms locked about his head he crouched and tried to +rush Taylor off his feet, knowing he was stronger than the other, and +that his only hope was in clinching. But Taylor held him off with +savage uppercuts and terrific short-arm swings that smashed his lips. + +He began to mutter in a whining, vicious monotone; twice he kicked at +Taylor, and twice he was knocked down as a punishment for his foul +methods. Finding his methods ineffectual, and discovering that +covering his face with his arms did not materially lessen the +punishment he was receiving, he began to stand up straight, taking +blows in an effort to land one. + +But Taylor eluded him; Carringtons blows did not land. Raging and +muttering, roaring with impotent passion, he whipped the air with his +arms, almost jerking them out of their sockets. + +Stiff and taut, his muscles accommodating themselves to every demand +he made on them, and in perfect coordination with his brainand the +purpose of his brain to inflict upon Carrington the maximum of +punishment for his dastardly attack on Marion HarlanTaylor worked +fast and furiously. For he heard Carringtons three men in the next +room; he heard them try the door; heard them call to Carrington. + +And then, convinced that the fight must be ended quickly, before the +men should break down the door and have him at a disadvantage, Taylor +finished it. He smothered Carrington with a succession of stiff-arm, +straight punches that glazed the others eyes and sent him reeling +around the room. And, at last, over in a corner near the little +window, Carrington went down flat on his back, his eyes closed, his +arms flung wide. + +Panting from his exertions, Taylor drew his guns and ran to one of the +front windows. They opened upon the porch, and, peering through the +blinds, Taylor saw one of the men standing at one of the windows, +trying to peer into the room. The other two, Taylor knew, were at the +doorhe could hear them talking in the silence that had followed the +final falling of Carrington. + +With a gun in each hand, Taylor approached the door. He was compelled +to sheath one of the guns, finding that it interfered with the turning +of the key in the lock; and he had sheathed it and was slowly turning +the key, intending to throw the door open suddenly and take his chance +with the two men on the other side of it, when he saw a shadow darken +the little window above where Carrington lay. + +He wheeled quickly, saw a mans face at the window, caught the glint +of a pistol. He snapped a shot at the man, swinging his gun over his +head to keep it from striking the door as he turned. But at the +movement the mans pistol roared, glass tinkling on the floor with the +report. The air in the room rocked with the explosion of Taylors +pistol, but a heavy blow on Taylors left shoulder, accompanied by a +twinge of pain, as though a white-hot iron had suddenly been plunged +through it, spoiled Taylors aim, and his bullet went into the +ceiling. As he staggered back from the door he saw the mans face at +the window, set in a triumphant grin. Then, as Taylor flattened +against the wall to steady himself for another shot, the face +disappeared. + +For an instant Taylor rested against the wall, his arms outstretched +along it to keep himself from falling, for the bullet which had struck +him had hurt him badly. The wound was in the left shoulder, though, +and high, and therefore not dangerous, yet he knew it had robbed his +left arm of most of its strengththere was no feeling in the fingers +that groped along the wall. + +He stepped again to the door and softly turned the key in the lock. He +heard no sound in the room beyond the door, and, thinking that the +men, curious over the shooting, had gone outside, he jerked the door +open. + +The movement was greeted with deafening report and a smoke-streak that +blinded Taylor momentarily. In just the instant before the +smoke-streak Taylor had caught a glimpse of a man standing near the +center of the room beyond the door, and though he was rather +disconcerted by the powder-flash and the searing of his left cheek by +a bullet, he let his own gun off twice in as many seconds, and had the +grim satisfaction of seeing the man stagger and tumble headlong to the +floor. + +Taylor peered once at the man, to see if he needed further attention, +decided he did not, and ran toward the front door, which opened upon +the porch. + +He was just in time to see one of Carringtons men sticking his head +around a corner of the house. It was the man who had shot him from the +little window. Taylors gun and the mans roared simultaneously. +Taylor had missed, for the man dodged back, and Taylor staggered, for +the mans bullet had struck him in the left thigh. He leaped, though +limping, toward the corner, and when almost there a pistol crashed +behind him, the bullet hitting his left shoulder, near where the other +had gone in, the force of it spinning him clear around, so that he +reeled and brought up against a porch column where it joined the rail. + +Grimly setting himself, grinning bitterly with the realization that +the men had him between them, Taylor stood momentarily, fighting to +overcome the terrible weakness that had stolen over him. His knees +were trembling, the house, trees, and sky were agitated in sickening +convolutions, and yet when he saw the head of a man appear from around +a corner of the house at his right, he snapped a shot at it, and +instantly as it was withdrawn he staggered to the corner, lurching +heavily as he went, and turning just as he reached it to reply to a +shot sent at him from the other corner of the house. + +A smoke-spurt met him as he reeled around the corner nearest him, and +his knees sagged as he aimed his gun at a blurring figure in front of +him. He saw the man go down, but his own strength was spent, and he +knew the last bullet had struck him in a vital spot. + +Staggering drunkenly, he started for the side of the house and brought +up against it with a crash. Again, as he had done inside the house, he +stretched his arms out, flattening himself against the wall, but this +time the arms were hanging more limply. + +He was seeing things through a crimson haze, and raising a hand, he +wiped his eyesand could see better, though there was a queer dimness +in his vision and the world was still traveling in eccentric circles. + +He saw a blur in front of himtwo men, he thought, though he knew he +had accounted for two of the three gunmen who had followed him to the +house. Then he heard a laughcoarse and brutalin a voice that he +knewCarringtons. + +With heartbreaking effort he brought up his right hand, bearing the +pistol. He was trying to swing it around to bring it to bear upon one +of the two dancing figures in front of him, when a crushing blow +landed on his head, and he knew one of the men had struck him with a +fist. He felt his own weapon go off at lastit seemed he had been an +age pressing on the triggerand he heard a voice +againCarringtonssaying: Damn him; hes shot me! He laughed aloud +as a gun roared close to him; he felt another twinge of pain somewhere +around where the other twinges had comeor on the other sidehe did +not know; and he sank slowly, still pressing the trigger of his +pistol, though not knowing whether or not he was doing any damage. And +then the eccentrically whirling world became a black blur, soundless +and void. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIA MAN FACES DEATH + + +Taylors last shot, when he had been automatically pressing the +trigger after Carrington had struck him viciously with his fist, had +brought down the last of the three men who had ambushed him. And one +of his last bullets had struck Carrington, who had recovered +consciousness and staggered out of the house in time to see the end of +the fight. And the big man, in a black, malignant fury of hatred, was +staggering toward Taylor, lifting a foot to kick him, when from the +direction of the clearing in front of the house came a voice, hoarse +and vibrant with a cold, deadly rage: + +One kick an I blow the top of your head off! Carrington stopped +short and wheeled, to face Ben Mullarky. + +The Irishmans eyes were blazing with wrath, and as he came forward, +peering at the figures lying on the ground near the house, Carrington +retreated, holding up his hands. + +Three of ye pilin on one, eh? said Mullarky as he looked down at +Taylor, huddled against the side of the house. An ye got him, too, +didnt ye? Ive a domn big notion to blow the top of your head off, +anny way. Ye slope, ye big limb of the divvle, or Ill do it! + +Mullarky watched while Carrington mounted his horse and rode up the +river trail toward Dawes, and the instant Carrington was out of sight, +Mullarky was down on his knees beside Taylor, taking a lightning +inventory of his wounds. + +Four of them, looks like! he muttered thickly, his voice shaking +with pity for the slack, limp, smoke-blackened figure that lay silent, +the trace of a smile on its face. An two of them through the +shoulder! He paused, awed. Lord, what a shindy! + +Then, swiftly gulping down his sympathy and his rage, Mullarky ran to +his horse, which he had left at the edge of the wood when he had heard +the shooting. He led the animal back to where Taylor lay, tenderly +lifted Taylor in his arms, walked to the horse, and after much labor +got Taylor up in front of him on the horse, Taylors weight resting on +his legs, the mans head and shoulders resting against him, to ease +the jars of the journey. + +Then he started, traveling as swiftly as possible down the big slope +toward his own house, not so very far away. + +Spotted Tail, jealously watching his master, saw him lifted to the +back of the other horse. Shrewdly suspecting that all was not going +well, and that his master would need him presently, Spotted Tail +trotted after Mullarky. + +In this manner, with Spotted Tail a few paces in his rear, Mullarky, +still tenderly carrying his burden, reached his cabin. + +He stilled Mrs. Mullarkys hysterical questions with a short command: + +Hitch up the buckboard while Im gettin him in shape! + +And then, while Mrs. Mullarky did as she was bidden, Mullarky carried +Taylor inside the cabin, bathed his wounds, stanching the flow of +blood as best he couldand came out again, carrying Taylor, and placed +him in the bed of the light spring-wagon, upon some quiltsand upon a +pillow that Mrs. Mullarky ran into the house to get, emerging with the +reproach: + +Youd be lettin him ride on them hard boards! + +Following Mullarkys instructions, Mrs. Mullarky climbed to the +drivers seat and sent the buckboard toward the Arrow, driving as fast +as she thought she dared. And Ben Mullarky, on Spotted Tail, turned +his face toward Dawes, riding as he had never ridden before. + + * * * * * + +Parsons had reached the Arrow shortly after Taylor had departed for +Dawes. The man had stopped at the Mullarky cabin to inquire the way +from the lady, and she had frankly commented upon Parsons battered +appearance. + +So it was Carrington that mauled you, eh? she said. Well, hes a +mighty evil manthe divvle take his sowl! + +Parsons concurred in this view of Carrington, though he did not tell +Mrs. Mullarky so. He went on his way, refusing the good womans +proffer of a horse, for he wanted to go afoot to the Arrow. He felt +sure of Marions sympathy, but he wanted to make himself as pitiable +an object as possible. And as he walked toward the Arrow he mentally +dramatized the moment of his appearance at the ranchhousea bruised +and battered figure dragging itself wearily forward, dusty, +thirst-tortured, and despairing. He knew that spectacle would win the +girls swift sympathy. The fact that the girl herself had been through +almost the same experience did not affect him at allhe did not even +think of it. + +And when Parsons reached the Arrow the scene was even as he had +dreamed itMarion Harlan had seen him from afar, and came running to +him, placing an arm about him, helping him forward, whispering words +of sympathy in his ears, so that Parsons really began to look upon +himself as a badly abused martyr. + +Marion cared for him tenderly, once she got him into the ranchhouse. +She bathed his bruised face, prepared breakfast for him, and later, +learning from him that he had not slept during the night, she sent him +off to bed, asking him as he went into the room if he had seen Ben +Mullarky. + +For, she added, he came here early this morning, after Mr. Taylor +left, and I sent him to the big house to get some things for me. + +But Parsons had not seen Mullarky. + +And at last, when the morning was nearly gone, and Marion saw a +horse-drawn vehicle approaching the Arrow from the direction of Dawes, +she ran out, thinking Ben Mullarky had brought her things in his +buckboard. But it was not Ben who was coming, but Mrs. Mullarky. The +ladys face was very white and serious, and when the girl came close +and she saw the look on the good womans face, she halted in her +tracks and stood rigid, her own face paling. + +Why, Mrs. Mullarky, what has happened? + +Enough, deary. Mrs. Mullarky waved an eloquent hand toward the rear +of the buckboard, and slowly approaching, the girl saw the huddled +figure lying there, swathed in quilts. + +She drew her breath sharply, and with pallid face, swaying a little, +she walked to the rear of the buckboard and stood, holding hard to the +rim of a wheel, looking down at Taylors face with its closed eyes and +its ghastly color. + +She must have screamed, then, for she felt Mrs. Mullarkys arms around +her, and she heard the ladys voice, saying: Dont, deary; he aint +dead, yetan he wont diewe wont let him die. + +She stood there by the buckboard for a timeuntil Mrs. Mullarky, +running to one of the outbuildings, returned with Bud Hemmingway. +Then, nerved to the ordeal by Buds businesslike methods, and the +awful profanity that gushed from his clenched teeth, she helped them +carry Taylor into the house. + +They took Taylor into his own room and laid him on the bed; a long, +limp figure, pitifully shattered, lying very white and still. + +The girl stayed in the room while Mrs. Mullarky and Bud ran hither and +thither getting water, cloths, stimulants, and other indispensable +articles. And during one of their absences the girl knelt beside the +bed, and resting her head close to Taylorswith her hands stroking +his blackened faceshe whispered: + +O Lord, save himsave him forfor me! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIILOOKING FOR TROUBLE + + +Before night the Arrow outfit, led by Bothwell, the range boss, came +into the ranchhouse. For the news had reached themafter the manner in +which all news travels in the cow-countryby word of mouthand they +had come inall those who could be sparedto determine the truth of +the rumor. + +There were fifteen of them, rugged, capable-looking fellows; and +despite the doctors objections, they filed singly, though +noiselessly, into Taylors room and silently looked down upon their +boss. Marion, watching them from a corner of the room, noted their +quick gulps of pity, their grim faces, the savage gleams that came +into their eyes, and she knew they were thinking of vengeance upon the +men who had wrought the injury to their employer. + +Bothwellbig, grim, and deliberate of mannersaid nothing as he looked +down into his chiefs face. But later, outside the house, listening to +Bud Hemmingways recital of how Taylor had been brought to the +ranchhouse, Bothwell said shortly: + +Im takin a look! + +Shortly afterward, followed by every man of the outfit who had ridden +in with him, Bothwell crossed the big basin and sent his horse up the +long slope to the big house. + +Outside they came upon the bodies of the two men with whom Taylor had +fought. And inside the house they saw the other huddled on the floor +near a door in the big front room. Silently the men filed through the +house, looking into all the rooms, and noting the wreck and ruin that +had been wrought. They saw the broken glass of the little window +through which one of Carringtons men had fired the first shot; they +noted the hole in the ceilingcaused by a bullet from Taylors pistol; +and they saw another hole in the wall near the door beside which +Taylor had been standing just before he had swung the door open. + +Three of theman Carringtonaccordin to what Bud says, said +Bothwell. Thats four. He smiled bitterly. They got him all +rightalmost, I reckon. But from the looks of things they must have +had a roarin picnic doin it! + +Not disturbing anything, the entire outfit mounted and rode swiftly +down the Dawes trail, their hearts swelling with sympathy for Taylor +and passionate hatred for Carrington, itching for a clean-up, as one +sullen-looking member of the outfit described his feelings. + +But there was no clean-up. When they reached Dawes they found the +town quietand men who saw them gave them plenty of room and forebore +to argue with them. For it was known that they were reckless, hardy +spirits when the mood came upon them, and that they worshiped Taylor. + +And so they entered Dawes, and Dawes treated them with respect. +Passing the city hall, they noticed some men grouped in front of the +building, and they halted, Bothwell dismounting and entering. + +Whats the gang collectin for? he asked a manwhom he knew for +Danforth. There was a belligerent thrust to Bothwells chin, and a +glare in his eyes that, Danforth felt, must be met with diplomacy. + +Theres been trouble at the Huggins house, and Im sending these men +to investigate. + +Give them diggin tools, said Bothwell grimly. An remember thisif +theres any more herd-ridin of our boss the Arrow outfit is startin +a private graveyard! He pinned the mayor with a cold glare: Wheres +Carrington? + +In his roomsunder a doctors care. Hes hitbad. A bullet in his +side. + +Ought to be in his gizzard! growled Bothwell. He went out, mounted, +and led his men away. They were reluctant to leave town, but Bothwell +was insistent. They aint no fight in that bunch of plug-uglies! he +scoffed. Well go back an tend to business, an pull for the boss +to get well! + +And so they returned to the Arrow, to find that the Dawes doctor was +still with Taylor. The doctor sent out word to them that there was a +slight chance for his patient, and satisfied that they had done all +they could, they rode away, to attend to business. + +For the first time in her life Marion Harlan was witnessing the fight +of a strong man to live despite grievous wounds that, she was certain, +would have instantly killed most men. But Taylor fought his fight +unconsciously, for he was still in that deep coma that had descended +upon him when he had gently slipped to the ground beside the house, +still fighting, still scorning the efforts of his enemies to finish +him. + +And during the first nights fever he still fought; the powerful +sedatives administered by the doctor had little effect. In his +delirium he muttered such terms and phrases as these: Run, damn +yourun! I aint in any hurry, and Ill get you! AndIll certainly +smash you some! AndA thing, ehIll show you! Shes mine, you +miserable whelp! + +Whether these were thoughts, or whether they were memories of past +utterances, made vivid and brought into the present by the fever, the +girl did not know. She sat beside his bed all night, with the doctor +near her, waiting and watching and listening. + +And she heard more: Thats Larrys girl, and its up to me to protect +her. AndI knew shed look like that. AlsoTheyre both tryin to +send her to hell! But Ill fool them! At these times there was +ineffable tenderness in his voice. But at times he broke out in +terrible wrath. Ambush me, eh? Ha, ha! That was right clever of you, +Spotted Tailwe didnt make a good target, did we? Only for your sense +wed have He ceased, to begin anew: Ive got _you_damn you! And +then he would try to sit erect, swinging his arms as though he were +trying to hit someone. + +But toward morning he fell into a fitful sleepthe sleep of +exhaustion; and when the dawn came, Mrs. Mullarky ordered the girl, +pale and wan from her nights vigilance and service, to go to bed. + +For three days it was the same. And for three days the doctor stayed +at the side of the patient, only sleeping when Miss Harlan watched +over Taylor. + +And during the three days vigil, Taylors delirium lasted. The girl +learned more of his character during those three days of constant +watchfulness than she would have learned in as many years otherwise. +That he was honorable and courageous, she knew; but that he was so +sincerely apprehensive over her welfare she had never suspected. For +she learned through his ravings that he had fought Carrington and the +three men for her; that he had deliberately sought Carrington to +punish him for the attack on her, and that he had not considered his +own danger at all. + +And at the beginning of the fourth day, when he opened his eyes and +stared wonderingly about the room, his gaze at first resting upon the +doctor, and then traveling to the girls face, and remaining there for +a long time, while a faint smile wreathed his lips, the girls heart +beat high with delight. + +Well, Im still a going it, he said weakly. + +I remember, he went on, musingly. When they was handing it to me, I +was thinking that I was in pretty bad shape. And then they must have +handed it to me some more, for I quit thinking at all. Im going to +pull throughaint I? + +You are! declared the doctor. That is, he amended, if you keep +your trap shut and do a lot of sleeping. + +For which Im going to have a lot of time, smiled Taylor. Im going +to sleep, for I feel mighty like sleeping. But before I do any +sleeping, theres a thing I want to know. Did Carringtons menthe +last twoget away, or did I + +You did, grinned the doctor. Bothwell rode over there to find +outand Mullarky saw them. Mullarky brought you backand got me. + +Carrington? inquired the patient. + +Mullarky saw him. He says he never saw a man so beat up in his life. +Besides, you shot him, tooin the side. Not dangerous, but a heap +painful. + +Taylor smiled and looked at Miss Harlan. I knew you were here, he +said; Ive felt you near me. It was mighty comforting, and I want to +thank you for it. There were times when I must have shot off my mouth +a heap. If I said anything I shouldnt have said, Im a whole lot +sorry. And Im asking your pardon. + +You didnt, she said, her eyes eloquent with joy over the +improvement in him. + +Well, then, Im going to sleep. He raised his right handhis good +oneand waved it gayly at themand closed his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIIIA WORLD-OLD LONGING + + +Looking back upon the long period of Taylors convalescence, Marion +Harlan could easily understand why she had surrendered to the patient. + +In the first place, she had liked Taylor from the very beginningeven +when she had affected to ridicule him on the train coming toward +Dawes. She had known all along that she had liked him, and on that +morning when she had visited the Arrow to ask about her father Taylor +had woven a magnetic spell about her. + +That meeting and the succeeding ones had merely strengthened her +liking for him. But the inevitable intimacy between nurse and patient +during several long weeks of convalescence had wrought havoc with her +heart. + +Taylors unfailing patience and good humor had been another factor in +bringing about her surrender. It was hard for her to believe that he +had fought a desperate battle which had resulted in the death of three +men and the wounding of Carrington and himself; for there were no +savage impulses or passions gleaming in the eyes that followed her +every movement while she had been busy in the sickroom for some weeks. +Nor could she see any lingering threat in them, promising more +violence upon his recovery. He seemed to have forgotten that there had +been a fight, and during the weeks that she had been close to him he +had not even mentioned it. He had been content, it seemed, to lounge +in a chair and listen to her while she read, to watch her; and there +had been times when she had seen a glow in his eyes that told her +things that she longed to hear him say. + +The girls surrender had not been conveyed to Taylor in words, though +she was certain he knew of it; for the signs of it must have been +visible, since she could feel the blushes in her cheeks at times when +a word or a look passing between them was eloquent with the proof of +her aroused emotions. + +It was on a morning about six weeks following the incident of the +shooting that she and Taylor had walked to the river. Upon a huge flat +rock near the edge of a slight promontory they seated themselves, +Taylor turned slightly, so that she had only a profile view of him. + +Taylors thoughts were grave. For from where he and the girl satfar +beyond the vast expanse of green-brown grass that carpeted the big +levelhe could see a huge cleft in some mountains. And the sight of +that cleft sent Taylors thoughts leaping back to the days he and +Larry Harlan had spent in these mountains, searching forand +findingthat gold for which they had come. And inevitably as the +contemplation of the mountains brought him recollections of Larry +Harlan he was reminded of his obligation to his old-time partner. And +the difficulties of discharging that obligation were increasing, it +seemed. + +At least, Taylors duty was not quite clear to him. For while Parsons +still retained a place in the girls affections he could not turn over +to her Larrys share of the money he had received from the sale of the +mine. + +And Parsons did retain the girls affectionslikewise her confidence +and trust. A man must be blind who could not see that. For the girl +looked after him as any dutiful girl might care for a father she +loved. Her attitude toward the man puzzled Taylor, for, he assured +himself, if she would but merely study the mans face perfunctorily +she could not have failed to see the signs of deceit and hypocrisy in +it. All of which convinced Taylor of the truth of the old adage: Love +is blind. + +One other influence which dissuaded Taylor from an impulse to turn +over Larrys money to the girl was his determination to win her on his +own merits. That might have seemed selfishness on his part, but now +that the girl was at the Arrow he could see that she was well supplied +with everything she needed. Her legacy would not buy her more than he +would give her gratuitously. And he did not want her to think for a +single moment he was trying to buy her love. That, to his mind was +gross commercialism. + +Marion was not looking at the mountains; she was watching Taylors +profileand blushing over thoughts that came to her. + +For she wished that she might have met him under different +conditionsupon a basis of equality. And that was not the basis upon +which they stood now. She had come to the Arrow because she had no +other place to go, vindicating her action upon Taylors declaration +that he had been her fathers friend. + +That had been a tangible premise, and was sufficient to satisfy, or to +dull, any surface scruples he might have had regarding the propriety +of the action. But her own moral sense struck deeper than that. She +felt she had no right to be here; that Taylor had made the offer of a +partnership out of charity. And so long as she stayed here, dependent +upon him for food and shelter, she could not permit him to speak a +word of love to hermuch as she wanted him to speak it. Such was the +puritanical principle driven deep into the moral fabric of her +character by a mother who had set her a bad example. + +This man had fought for her; he had risked his life to punish a man +who had wronged her in thought, only; and she knew he loved her. And +yet, seated so near him, she could not put out the hand that longed to +touch him. + +However, her thoughts were not tragicfar from it! Youth is hopeful +because it has so long to wait. And there was in her heart at this +moment a presentiment that time would sever the bonds of propriety +that held her. And the instincts of her sexthough never having been +tested in the arts of coquetrytold her how to keep his heart warm +toward her until that day, having achieved her independence, she could +meet him on a basis of equality. + +Mr. Squint, she suddenly demanded; what are you thinking about? + +He turned and looked full at her, his eyes glowing with a grave humor. + +Id tell you if I thought youd listen to me, he returned, +significantly. But it seems that every time I get on that subject you +poke fun at me. Is there _anything_ I can do to show you that I love +youthat I want you more than any man ever wanted a woman? + +Yesthere is. Her smile was tantalizing. + +Name it! he demanded, eagerly. + +Stop being tragic. I dont like you when you are tragicor when you +are talking nonsense about love. I have heard so much of it! + +From me, I suppose? he said, gloomily. + +He had turned his head and she shot a quick, eloquent glance at him. +From youand several others, she said, deliberately. + +There was a resentful, hurt look in his eyes when he turned and looked +at her. Just how many? he demanded, somewhat gruffly. + +Jealous! she said, shaking her finger at him. Do you want a bill of +particulars? Because if you do, she added, looking demurely downward, +I should have to take several days to think it over. You see, a woman +cant catalogue everything men say to herfor they say so many silly +things! + +Love isnt silly, he declared. He looked rather fiercely at her. +What kind of a man do you like best? he demanded. + +She blushed. I like a big manabout as big as you, she said. A man +with fierce eyes that glower at a woman when she talks to him of +loveshe insisting that she hasnt quite fallen in lovewith _him_. I +like a man who is jealous of the reputation of the woman he +_professes_ to love; a man who is jealous of other men; a man who +isnt so very good-looking, but who is a handsome man for all +thatbecause he is so very manly; a man who will fight and risk his +life for me. + +Could you name such a man? he said. There was a scornful gleam in +his eyes. + +I am looking at him this minute! she said. + +Grinning, for he knew all along that she had been talking of him, he +wheeled quickly and tried to catch her in his arms. But she slipped +off the rock and was around on the other side of it, keeping it +between them while he tried to catch her. Instinctively he realized +that the chase was hopeless, but he persisted. + +Ill never speak to you again if you catch me! she warned, her eyes +flashing. + +But you told me + +That I liked you, she interrupted. And liking a man isnt + +And then she paused and looked down, blushing, while Taylor, in the +act of vaulting over the rock, collapsed and sat on it instead, red of +face and embarrassed. + +For within a dozen paces of them, and looking rather embarrassed and +self-conscious, himself, though with a twinkle in his eyes that made +Taylors cheeks turn redderwas Bud Hemmingway. + +Im beggin your pardon, said the puncher; but Ive come to tell +you that Neil Norton is hereagain. Hes been settin on the porch for +an hour or twohe says. But I think hes stretching it. Anyway, hes +tired of waitin for youhe saysan hes been wonderin if you was +goin to set on that boulder all day! + +Taylor slipped off the rock and started toward Bud, feigning +resentment. + +Bud, his face agitated by a broad grin, deliberately winked at Miss +Harlanthough he spoke to Taylor. + +Id be a little careful about how I went to jumpin off bouldersyou +might bust your ankle again! + +And then Taylor grinned at Miss Harlanwho pretended a severity she +did not feel; while Bud, cackling mirthfully, went toward the +ranchhouse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIVA DEATH WARRANT + + +Carrington was not a coward; he was not even a cautious man. And the +bitter malice that filled his heart, together with riotous impulses +that seethed in his brain prompted him to go straight to the Arrow, +wreak vengeance upon Taylor and drag Marion Harlan back to the big +house he had bought for her. + +But a certain memory of Taylors face when the latter had been +pursuing him through the big house; a knowledge of Taylors ability to +inflict punishment, together with a divination that Taylor would not +hesitate to kill him should there arise the slightest opportunityall +these considerations served to deter Carrington from undertaking any +rash action. + +Taylors opposition to his desires enraged Carrington. He had met and +conquered many menand he had coolly and deliberately robbed many +others, himself standing secure and immune behind legal barriers. And +he had seen his victims writhe and squirm and struggle in the meshes +he had prepared for them. He had heard them rave and wail and +threaten; but not one of them had attempted to inflict physical +punishment upon him. + +Taylor, however, was of the fighting type. On two occasions, now, +Carrington had been given convincing proof of the mans ability. And +he had seen in Taylors eyes on the latest occasion the implacable +gleam of iron resolution andwhen Taylor had gone down, fighting to +the last, in the sanguinary battle at the big house, he had not failed +to note the indomitability of the manthe tenacious and dogged spirit +that knows no defeata spirit that would not be denied. + +And so, though Carringtons desires would have led him to recklessly +carry the fight to the Arrow, certain dragging qualms of reluctance +dissuaded him from another meeting with Taylor on equal terms. + +And yet the malevolent passions that gripped the big man would not +tolerate the thought of opposition. Taylor was the only man who stood +between him and his desires, and Taylor must be removed. + +During the days of Carringtons confinement to his rooms above the +Castleawaiting the slow healing of the wound Taylor had inflicted +upon him, and the many bruises that marred his facemementoes of the +terrible punishment Taylor had inflicted upon himthe big man nursed +his venomous thoughts and laid plans for revenge upon his enemy. + +As soon as he was able to appear in Dawesto undergo without +humiliation the inspection of his face by the citizens of the townfor +news of his punishment had been whispered broadcasthe boarded a +westbound train. + +He got off at Nogel, a little mining town sitting at the base of some +foothills in the Sangre de Christo Range, some miles from Dawes. + +He spent three days in Nogel, interrogating the resident manager of +the Larrys Luck mine, talking with miners and storekeepers and +quizzing men in saloonsand at the beginning of the fourth day he +returned to Dawes. + +At about the time Miss Harlan and Taylor were sitting on the rock on +the bank of the river near the Arrow, Carrington was in the courthouse +at Dawes, leaning over Judge Littlefields desk. A tall, sleek-looking +man of middle age, with a cold, steady eye and a smooth smile, stood +near Carrington. The man was neatly attired, and looked like a +prosperous mine-owner or operator. + +But had the judge looked sharply at his hands when he gripped the one +that was held out to him when Carrington introduced the man; or had he +been a physiognomist of average ability, he could not have failed to +note the smooth softness of the mans hands and the gleam of guile and +cunning swimming deep in his eyes. + +But the judge noted none of those things. He had caught the mans +nameMint Mortonand instantly afterward all his senses became +centered upon what the man was saying. + +For the man spoke of conscienceand the judge had one of his owna +guilty one. So he listened attentively while the man talked. + +The thing had been bothering the man for some monthsor from the time +it happened, he said. And he had come to make a confession. + +He was a miner, having a claim near Nogel. He knew Quinton Taylor, and +he had known Larry Harlan. One morning after leaving his mine on a +trip to Nogel for supplies, he had passed close to the Larrys Luck +mine. Being on good terms with the partners, he had thought of +visiting them. Approaching the mine on foothaving left his horse at a +little distancehe heard Taylor and Harlan quarreling. He had no +opportunity to interfere, for just as he came upon the men he saw +Taylor knock Harlan down with a blow of his fist. And while Harlan lay +unconscious on the ground Taylor had struck him on the head with a +rock. + +Morton had not revealed himself, then, fearing Taylor would attack +him. He had concealed himself, and had seen Taylor, apparently +remorseful, trying to revive Harlan. These efforts proving futile, +Taylor had rigged up a drag, placed Harlan on it, and had taken him to +Nogel. But Harlan died on the way. + +To Littlefields inquiry as to why Morton had not reported the murder +instantly, the man replied that, being a friend to Taylor, he had been +reluctant to expose him. + +After the man concluded his story the judge and Carrington exchanged +glances. There was a vindictively triumphant gleam in Littlefields +eyes, for he still remembered the humiliation he had endured at +Taylors hands. + +He took Mortons deposition, told him he would send for him, later; +and dismissed him. Carrington, appearing to be much astonished over +the mans confession, accompanied him to the station, where he watched +him board the train that would take him back to Nogel. + +And on the platform of one of the coaches, Carrington, grinning +wickedly, gave the man a number of yellow-backed treasury notes. + +You think I wont have to come backto testify against him? asked +the man, smiling coldly. + +Certainly not! declared Carrington. Youve signed his death warrant +this time! + +Carrington watched the train glide westward, and then returned to the +courthouse. He found the judge sitting at his desk, gazing +meditatively at the floor. For there had been something insincere in +Mortons mannerhis story of the murder had not been quite +convincingand in spite of his resentment against Taylor the judge did +not desire to add anything to the burden already carried by his +conscience. + +Carrington grinned maliciously as he halted at Littlefields side and +laid a hand on the others arm. + +Weve got him, Littlefield! he said. Get busy. Issue a warrant for +his arrest. Ill have Danforth send you some men to serve as +deputiestwenty of them, if you think it necessary! + +The judge cleared his throat and looked with shifting eyes at the +other. + +Look here, Carrington, he said, II have some doubts about the +sincerity of that man Morton. Id like to postpone action in this case +until I can make an investigation. It seems to me thatthat Taylor, +for all hiserseeming viciousness, is not the kind of man to kill his +partner. Id like to delay just a little, to + +And let Taylor get wind of the thingand escape. Not by a damned +sight! One mans word is as good as anothers in this country; and +its your duty as a judge of the court, here, to act upon any +complaint. You issue the warrant. Ill get Keats to serve it. Hell +bring Taylor here, and you can legally examine him. Thats merely +justice! + +Half an hour later, Carrington was handing the warrant to a big, +rough-looking man with an habitual and cruel droop to the corners of +his mouth. + +Youd better take some men with you, Keats, suggested Carrington. +Hell fight, most likely, he grinned, evilly. Understand, he +added; if you should have to kill Taylor bringing him in, there would +be no inquiry made. And he looked at Keats and grinned, slowly and +deliberately closing an eye. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVKEATS LOOKS FOR SQUINT + + +Neil Norton had been attending to Taylors affairs in Dawes during the +latters illness, and he had ridden to the Arrow this morning to +discuss with Taylor a letter he had receivedfor Taylorfrom a Denver +cattle buyer. The inquiry was for Herefords of certain markings and +quality, and Norton could give the buyer no information. So Norton had +come to Taylor for the information. + +The herd is grazing in the Kelso Basin, Taylor told Norton. Norton +knew the Kelso Basin was at least fifteen miles distant from the Arrow +ranchhousea deep, wide valley directly west, watered by the same +river that flowed near the Arrow ranchhouse. + +I cant say, offhand, whether weve got what your Denver man wants. +He grinned at Norton, adding: But its a fine morning for a ride, and +I havent done much riding lately. Ill go and take a look. + +Ill be looking, too, declared Norton. The _Eagle_ forms are ready +for the press, and there isnt much to do. + +Later, Taylor, mounted on Spotted Tail, and Norton on a big, rangy +sorrel, the two men rode away. Taylor stopped at the horse corral gate +long enough to tell Bud Hemmingway, who was replacing a bar, that he +and Norton were riding to the Kelso Basin. + +And there was one other to whom he had spokenwhen he had gone into +the house to buckle on his cartridge-belt and pistols, just before he +went out to saddle Spotted Tail. It was the girl who had tantalized +him while they had been sitting on the rock. She had not spoken +frivolously to him inside the house; instead, she had gravely warned +him to be careful; that his wounds might bother him on a long +rideand that she didnt want him to suffer a relapse. And she watched +him as he and Norton rode away, following the dust-cloud that +enveloped them until it vanished into the mists of distance. Then she +turned from the door with a sigh, thinking of the fate that had made +her dependent upon the charity of the man she loved. + +To Bud Hemmingway, working at the corral gate about an hour following +the departure of Taylor and Norton, there came an insistent demand to +look toward Dawes. It was merely one of those absurd impulses founded +upon a whim provoked by self-manufactured presentimentbut Bud looked. +What he saw caused him to stand erect and stare hard at the trail +between Mullarkys cabin and the Arrowfor about two miles out came a +dozen or more riders, their horses traveling fast. + +For several seconds Bud watched intently, straining his eyes in an +effort to distinguish something about the men that would make their +identity clear. And then he dropped the hammer he had been working +with and ran to the bunkhouse, where he put on his cartridge-belt and +pistol. + +Returning to the bunkhouse door, he stood in it for a time, watching +the approaching men. Then he scowled, muttering: + +Its that damned Keats an some of his bunch! What in hell are they +wantin at the Arrow? + +Bud was standing near the edge of the front gallery when Keats and his +men rode up. There were fourteen of the men, and, like their leader, +they were ill-visaged, bepistoled. + +Marion Harlan had heard the noise of their approach, and she had come +to the front door. She stood in the opening, her gaze fixed +inquiringly upon the riders, though chiefly upon Keats, whose manner +proclaimed him the leader. He looked at Bud. + +Hello, Hemmingway! he greeted, gruffly. I take it the outfit aint +in? + +Workin, Kelso, returned Bud. Buds gaze at Keats was belligerent; +he resented the presence of Keats and the men at the Arrow, for he had +never liked Keats, and he knew the relations between the visitor and +Taylor were strained almost to the point of open antagonism. + +Whats eatin you guys? demanded Bud. + +Plenty! stated Keats importantly. He turned to the men. + +Scatter! he commanded; an rustle him up, if hes anywhere around! +Hey! he shouted at a slender, rat-faced individual. You an Darbey +search the house! Two more of you take a look at the bunkhouseand the +rest of you nose around the other buildins. Keep your eyes peeled, +an if he goes to gettin fresh, plug him plenty! + +Why, what is wrong? demanded Marion. Her face was pale with +indignation, for she resented the authoritative tone used by Keats as +much as she resented the thought of the two men entering the house +unbidden. + +Keatss face flamed with sudden passion. With a snap of his wrist he +drew his gun and trained its muzzle on Bud. + +Wrong enough! he snapped. He was looking at Bud while answering Miss +Harlans question. Im after Squint Taylor, an Im goin to get +himthats all! An if you folks go to interferin itll be the worse +for you! + +Marion stiffened and braced herself in the doorway, her eyes wide with +dread and her lips parted to ask the question that Bud now spoke, his +voice drawling slightly with sarcasm. + +Taylor, eh? he said. What you wantin with Taylor? + +Im wantin him for murderin Larry Harlan! snapped Keats. + +Bud gulped, drew a deep breath and went pale. He looked at Marion, and +saw that the girl was terribly moved by Keatss words. But neither the +girl nor Bud spoke while Keats dismounted, crossed the porch, and +stopped in front of the door, which was barred by the girls body. + +Get out of the wayIm goin in! ordered Keats. + +The girl moved aside to let him pass, and as he crossed the threshold +she asked, weakly: + +How do youhow do they know Mr. Taylor killed Larry Harlan? + +Keats turned on her, grinning mirthlessly. + +How do we know anything? he jeered. Evidencethats whatan plenty +of it! + +Keats vanished inside, and Bud, his eyes snapping with the alert +glances he threw around him, slowly backed away from the porch toward +the stable. As he turned, after backing several feet, he saw Marion +walk slowly to a rocker that stood on the porch, drop weakly into it +and cover her face with her hands. + +Gaining the stable, Bud worked fast; throwing a saddle and bridle upon +King, the speediest horse in the Arrow outfit, excepting Spotted Tail. + +With movements that he tried hard to make casual, but with an +impatience that made his heart pound heavily, he got King out and led +him to the rear of the stable. + +Some of Keatss men were running from one building to another; but he +was not Taylor, and they seemed to pay no attention to him, beyond +giving him sharp glances. + +Passing behind the blacksmith-shop, Bud heard a voice saying: + +Dead or alive, Keats says; an theyd admire to have him dead. I +heard Carrington tellin Keats! + +As the sound of the voice died away, Bud touched Kings flank with the +spurs. The big horse, after a day in the stable, was impatient and +eager for a run, and he swept past the scattered buildings of the +ranch with long, swift leaps that took him out upon the plains before +Keats could complete his search of the first floor of the house. + +The two men who had searched the upper floor came downstairs, to meet +Keats in the front room. They grimly shook their heads at Keats, and +at his orders went outside to search with the other men. + +Keats stepped to the door, saw Marion sitting limply in the +rocking-chair, her shoulders convulsed with sobs, and crossed to her, +shaking her with a brutal arm. + +Wheres that guy I left standin there? Wheres heHemmingway? + +I dont know, said the girl dully. + +Keats cursed and ran to the edge of the porch. With his gaze sweeping +the buildings, the pasture, the corrals, and the wide stretch of plain +westward, he stiffened, calling angrily to his men: + +There he goesdamn him! Its that sneakin Bud Hemmingway, an hes +gone to tell Taylor were after him! He knows where Taylor is! Get +your hosses! + +Forced to her feet by the intense activity that followed Keatss +loudly bellowed orders, the girl crossed the porch, and from a point +near the end railing watched Keats and his men clamber into their +saddles and race after Bud. For a long time she watched thema tiny +blot gliding over the plains, followed by a larger blotand then she +walked slowly to the rocking-chair, looked down at it as though its +spaciousness invited her; then she turned from it, entered the house, +and going to her roomwhere Martha was sleepingbegan feverishly +throwing her few belongings into the small handbag she had brought +with her from the big house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIKEATS FINDS SQUINT + + +Looking back after he had been riding for some minutes, Bud saw a +dozen or more horses break from the group of Arrow buildings and come +racing toward him, spreading out fanwise. + +Theyve seen me! breathed Bud, and he leaned over Kings shoulders +and spoke to him. The animal responded with a burst of speed that +brought a smile to Buds face. For the puncher knew that Taylor and +Norton couldnt have traveled more than a few miles in the short time +that had passed since their departure; and he knew also that in a +short runof a dozen miles or sothere wasnt a horse in the Dawes +section that could catch King, barring, of course, Spotted Tail, the +real king of range horses. + +And so Bud bent eagerly to his work, not riding erect in the saddle as +is the fashion of the experienced cow-puncher in an unfamiliar +country, where pitfalls, breaks, draws, hidden gullies, and weed-grown +barrancas provide hazards that might bring disaster. Bud knew this +section of the country as well as he knew the interior of the +bunkhouse, and with his knowledge came a confidence that nothing would +happen to him or King, except possibly a slip into a gopher hole. + +And Bud kept scanning the country far enough ahead to keep King from +running into a gopher town. He swung the animal wide in passing +themfor he knew it was the habit of these denizens of the plains to +extend their habitatsome venturesome and independent spirits straying +far from the huddle and congestion of the multitude. + +Bud looked back many times during the first two miles, and he saw that +Keats and his men were losing ground; their horses could not keep the +pace set by the big bay flier under Bud. + +And King was not going as he could go when the necessity arrived. This +ride was a frolic for the big bay, and yet Bud knew he must not force +him, that he must conserve his wind, for if Taylor and Norton had +yielded to a whim to hurry, even King would need all his speed and +endurance to hang on. For the sorrel that had accompanied Spotted Tail +was not so greatly inferior to King that the latter could take +liberties with him. + +Bud gloated as he looked back after he had covered another mile. Keats +and his men were still losing ground, though they were not so very far +back, eitherBud could almost see the faces of the men. But that, Bud +knew, was due to the marvelous clarity of the atmosphere. + +When the sides of the big hills surrounding the level began to sweep +inward rapidly, Bud knew that the grass level was coming to an end, +and that presently he would strike a long stretch of broken country. +Beyond that was a big valley, rich and fertile, in which, according to +report, the Arrow herd should be grazing, guarded by the men of the +outfit, under Bothwell. But Kelso Basin was still nine or ten miles +distant, and Bud did not yet dare to let the big bay horse run his +best. + +Still, when they flashed by a huge promontory that stood sentinel-like +above the waters of the rivera spot well remembered by Bud, because +many times while on day duty he had lain prone on its top smoking and +dreamingKing was running as lightly as a leaf before the hurricane. + +King had entered the section of broken country, with its beds of rock +and lava, and huge boulders strewn here and there, relics of gigantic +upheavals when the earth was young; and Bud was skilfully directing +King to the stretches of smooth level that he found here and there, +when far ahead he saw Taylor and Norton. + +In ten minutes he was within hailing distance, and he grinned widely +when, hearing him, they pulled their horses to a halt and, wheeling, +faced him. + +For Bud saw that they had reached a spot which would make an admirable +defensive position, should Taylor decide to resist Keats. The hills, +in their gradual inward sweep, were close together, so that their +crests seemed to nod to one another. And a little farther down, Bud +knew, they formed a gorge, which still farther on merged into a caon. +It was an ideal position for a standif Taylor would stand and not run +for it; and he rather thought Taylor would not run. + +Taylor had ridden toward Bud, and was a hundred feet in advance of +Norton when Bud pulled King to a halt, shouting: + +Keats and a dozen men are right behind mea mile; mebbe two! Hes got +a warrant for you, chargin you with murderin Larry Harlan! I heard +one of his scum sayin it was to be a clean-up! + +Taylor laughed; he did not seem to be at all interested in Keats or +his men, who at that instant were riding at a pace that was likely to +kill their horses, should they be forced to maintain it. + +Who accused me of murdering Harlan? + +Keats didnt say. But I heard a guy sayin that Carrington was +wantin Keats to take you dead! + +The cold gleam in Taylors eyes and the slight, stiff grin that +wreathed his lips, indicated that he had determined that Keats would +have to kill him before taking him. + +A dozen of them, eh? he said, looking from Bud to Norton +deliberately. Well, thats a bunch for three men to fight, but it +isnt enough to run from. Well stay here and have it out with them. +That is, he added with a quick, quizzical look at the two men, if +one of you is determined to stay. + +One of us? flared Bud. He gazed hard at Norton, with suspicion and +belligerence in his glance. Norton flushed at the look. I reckon +well both be in at the finish, added Bud. + +Only one, declared Taylor. We might hold a dozen men off here for a +good many hours. But if they were wise and patient theyd get us. One +man will light out for Kelso Basin to get the outfit. Settle it +between you, but be quick about it! + +Taylor swung down from his horse, led the animal out of sight behind a +jutting crag into a sort of pocket in the side of the gorge, where +there would be no danger of the magnificent beast being struck by a +bullet. Taylor pulled his rifle from its saddle-sheath, examined the +mechanism, looked at his pistols, and then returned to where Bud +Hemmingway and Neil Norton sat on their horses. + +Buds face was flushed and Norton was grinning. And at just the +instant Taylor came in sight of them Norton was saying: + +Well, if you insist, I suppose I shall have to go to Kelso. There +isnt time to argue. + +Norton wheeled his horse, and, with a quick grin at Taylor, sent the +animal clattering down the gorge. + +Buds grin at Taylor was pregnant with guilt. + +Norton didnt want me to stay. Theres lots of stubborn cusses in the +worldnow, aint they? + +Taylors answering smile showed that he understood. + +Get King back here with Spotted Tail, Bud! he directed. And take +that pile of rocks for cover. Theyre coming! + +By the time Bud did as he had been bidden, and was crouching behind a +huge mound of broken rock on the north side of the gorge, Taylor on +the southern side, with a twenty-foot passage on the comparatively +level floor of the gorge between them, and an uninterrupted sweep of +narrow level in front of them, except for here and there a jutting +rock or a boulder, they saw Keats and his men just entering the +stretch of broken country. + +The horses of the pursuing outfit were doing their best. They came on +over the stretch of treacherous trail, laboring, pounding and +clattering; singly sometimes, two and three abreast where there was +room, keeping well together, their riders urging them with quirt and +spur. For far back on the trail they had lost sight of Bud, though +Keats had remembered that Bud had said Taylor had gone to Kelso Basin, +and therefore Keats knew he was on the right trail. + +However, he did not want to let Bud get to Kelso before him to warn +the Arrow outfit; for that would mean a desperate battle with a force +equal in numbers to his own. Keats fought best when the advantages +were with him, and he knew his men were similarly constituted. And so +he was riding as hard as he dared, hoping that something would happen +to Buds horsethat the animal might become winded or fall. A man +could not tell what _might_ happen in a pursuit of this character. + +But the thing that _did_ happen had not figured in Keatss lurid +conjectures at all. That was why, when he heard Taylors quick +challenge, he pulled his horse up sharply, so that the animal slipped +several feet and came to a halt sidewise. + +Keatss unexpected halt brought confusion to his followers. A dozen of +them, crowding Keats hard, and not noticing their leaders halt in +time, rode straight against him, their horses jamming the narrow +gorge, kicking, snorting and squealing in a disordered and +uncontrollable mass. + +When the tangle had been magically undonethe magic being Taylors +voice again, burdened with sarcasm bearing upon their excitementKeats +found himself nearest the nest of rocks from behind which Taylors +voice seemed to come. + +The jutting crag behind which Taylor had concealed his horse, and +where Bud had led King, completely obstructed Keatss view of the +gorge behind the crag, toward Kelso Basin, and Keats did not know but +that the entire Arrow outfit was concealed behind the rocks and +boulders that littered the level in the vicinity. + +And so he sat motionless, slowly and respectfully raising his hands. +Noting his action, his men did likewise. + +Thats polite, came Taylors voice coldly. Hemmingway says youre +looking for me. What for? + +Ive got a warrant for you, chargin you with murderin Larry +Harlan. + +Who accused me? + +Mint Morton, of Nogel. + +There was a long silence. Behind the clump of rock Taylor smiled +mirthlessly at Bud, who was watching him. For Taylor knew Mint Morton, +of Nogel, as a gambler, unscrupulous and dishonest. He had earned +Mortons hatred when one night in a Nogel saloon he had caught Morton +cheating and had forced him to disgorge his winnings. His victim had +been a miner on his way East with the earnings of five years in his +pockets. Taylor had not been able to endure the spectacle of abject +despair that had followed the mans loss of all his money. + +Taylor did not know that Carrington had hunted Morton up, paying him +well to bring the murder charge, but Taylor did know that he was +innocent of murder; and by linking Morton with Carrington he could +readily understand why Keats wanted him. He broke the silence with a +short: + +Who issued the warrant? + +Judge Littlefield. + +Well, said Taylor, you can take it right back to him and tell him +to let Carrington serve it. For, he added, a note of grim humor +creeping into his voice, Im a heap particular about such things, +Keats. I couldnt let a sneak like you take me in. And I dont like +the looks of that dirty-looking outfit with you. And so Im telling +you a few things. Im giving you one minute to hit the breeze out of +this section. If youre here when that time is up, I down _you_, +Keats! Slope! + +Keats flashed one glance around at his men. Some of them already had +their horses in motion; others were nervously fingering their +bridle-reins. Keats sneered at the rock nest ahead of him. + +The intense silence which followed Taylors warning lasted about ten +seconds. Then Keatss face paled; he wheeled his horse and sent it +scampering over the back trail, his men following, crowding him hard. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIIBESIEGED + + +Hemmingway tentatively suggested that a ride through the gorge toward +the Kelso Basin might simplify matters for himself and Taylor; it +might, he said, even seem to make the defending of their position +unnecessary. But his suggestions met with no enthusiasm from Taylor, +who lounged among the rocks of his place of concealment calmly +smoking. + +Taylor gave some reasons for his disinclination to adopt Hemmingways +suggestions. + +Norton will be back in an hour, with Bothwell and the outfit. And +now he grinned as he looked at Bud. Miss Harlan told me to be careful +about my scratches. I take it she dont want no more sieges with a +sick man. And Im taking her advice. If Id go to riding my horse like +blazes, maybe I _would_ get sick again. And she wouldnt take care of +me anymore. And Id hate like blazes to run from Keats and his bunch +of plug-uglies! + +So Hemmingway said no more on that subject. + +They smoked and talked and watched the trail for signs of Keats and +his men; while the sun, which had been behind the towering hills +surrounding the gorge, traveled slowly above them, finally blazing +down from a point directly overhead. + +It became hot in the gorge; the air was stifling and the heat +uncomfortable. Taylor did not seem to mind it, but Bud, with a +vigorous appetite, and longings that ran to flapjacks and sirup, grew +impatient. + +If a man could eat now, he remarked once, while the sun was directly +overhead, why, it wouldnt be so bad! + +And then, after the suns blazing rays had begun to diminish in +intensity somewhat, Bud looked upward and saw that the shimmering orb +had passed beyond the crest of a towering hill. He looked sharply at +Taylor, who was intently watching the back trail, and said gravely: + +Norton ought to have been back with Bothwell and the bunch, now. + +Hes an hour overdue, said Taylor, without looking at Bud. + +I reckon somethins happened, growled Bud. Somethin always happens +when a guys holed up, like this. It wouldnt be so bad if a man could +eat a little somethinto sort of keep him from thinkin of it all the +time. Or, mebbe, if there was a little excitementor somethin. A man +could + +Therell be plenty of excitement before long, interrupted Taylor. +Keats and his gang didnt go very far. I just saw one of them +sneaking along that rock-knob, down the gorge a piece. Theyre going +to stalk us. If youre thinking of riding to Kelsowhy He grinned at +Buds resentful scowl. + +Lying flat on his stomach, he watched the rock-knob he had mentioned. + +Slick as an Indian, he remarked once, while Bud, having ceased his +discontented mutterings, kept his gaze on the rock also. + +And then suddenly the eery silence of the gorge was broken by the +sharp crack of Taylors rifle, and, simultaneously, by a shriek of +pain. Report and shriek reverberated with weird, echoing cadences +between the hills, growing less distinct always and finally the eery +silence reigned again. + +Theyll know they cant get careless, now, grinned Taylor, working +the ejector of his rifle. + +Bud did not reply; and for another hour both men intently scanned the +hills within range of their vision, straining their eyes to detect +signs of movement that would warn them of the whereabouts of Keats and +his men. + +Anxiously Bud watched the rays of the sun creeping up a precipitous +rock wall at a little distance. Slowly the streak of light narrowed, +growing always less brilliant, and finally, when it vanished, Bud +spoke: + +Its comin on night, Squint. Somethins sure happened to Norton. He +wriggled impatiently, adding: If were here when night comes well +have a picnic keepin them guys off of us. + +Taylor said nothing until the gorge began to darken with the shadows +of twilight. Then he looked at Bud, his face grim. + +My stubbornness, he said shortly. I should have taken your advice +about going to Kelso Basinwhen we had a chance. But I felt certain +that Norton would have the outfit here before this. Our chance is +gone, now. There are some of Keatss men in the hills, around us. I +just saw one jump behind that rim rock on the shoulder of that big +hillthere. He indicated the spot. Then he again spoke to Bud. + +Theres a chance yetfor you. You take Spotted Tail and make a run +for the basin. Ill cover you. + +What about you? grumbled Bud. + +Taylor grinned, and Bud laughed. You was only funnin me, I reckon, +he said, earnestly. You knowed I wouldnt slope an leave you to +fight it out alonenow didnt you? + +But if a man was hungry, said Taylor, and he knew there was grub +with the outfit + +I aint hungry no more, declared Bud; Ive quit thinkin of +flapjacks for more than + +He stiffened, and the first shadows of the night were split by a long, +narrow flame-streak as his rifle crashed. And a man who had been +slipping into the shelter of a depression on the side of a hill a +hundred yards distant, tumbled grotesquely out and down, and went +sliding to the bottom of the gorge. + +As though the report of Buds rifle were a signal, a dozen vivid jets +of fire flamed from various points in the surrounding hills, and the +silence was rent by the vicious cracking of rifles and the drone and +thud of bullets as they sped over the heads of the two men at the +bottom of the gorge and flattened themselves against the rocks of +their shelter. + +That sound, too, died away. And in the heavy, portentous stillness +which succeeded it, there came to the ears of the two besieged men the +sounds of distant shouting, faint and far. + +Its the outfit! said Taylor. + +And Bud, rolling over and over in an excess of joy over the coming of +the Arrow men, hugged an imaginary form and yelled: + +Oh, Bothwell, you old son-of-a-gun! How I love you! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIIITHE FUGITIVE + + +One thought dominated Marion Harlans brain as she packed her +belongings into the little handbag in her room at the Arrowan +overpowering, monstrous, hideous conviction that she had accepted +charity from the man who was accused of murdering her father! There +was no room in her brain for other thoughts or emotions; she was +conscious of nothing but the horror of it; of the terrible uncertainty +that confronted herof the dread that Taylor _might_ be guilty! She +wanted to believe in himshe _did_ believe in him, she told herself as +she packed the bag; she could not accept the word of Keats as final. +And yet she could not stay at the Arrow another minuteshe could not +endure the uncertainty. She must go away somewhereanywhere, until the +charge were proved, or until she could see Taylor, to look into his +eyes, there to see his guilt or innocence. + +She felt that the charge could not be true; for Taylor had treated her +so fairly; he had been so sympathetically friendly; he had seemed to +share her grief over her fathers death, and he had seemed so sincere +in his declaration of his friendliness toward the man. He had even +seemed to share her grief; and in the hallowed moments during which he +had stood beside her while she had looked into her fathers room, he +might have been secretly laughing at her! + +And into her heart as she stood in the room, now, there crept a mighty +shameand the shadow of her mothers misconduct never came so close as +it did now. For she, too, had violated the laws of propriety; and what +she was receiving was not more than her just due. And yet, though she +could blame herself for coming to the Arrow, she could not excuse +Taylors heinous conduct if he were guilty. + +And then, the first fierce passion burning itself out, there followed +the inevitable reactionthe numbing, staggering, sorrowing realization +of loss. This in turn was succeeded by a frenzied desire to go away +from the Arrowfrom everybody and everythingto some place where none +of them would ever see her again. + +She started toward the door, and met Parsonswho was looking for her. +He darted forward when he saw her, and grasped her by the shoulders. + +What has happened? he demanded. + +She told him, and the mans face whitened. + +I was asleep, and heard nothing of it, he said. So that man Keats +said they had plenty of evidence! You are going away? I wouldnt, +girl; there may have been a mistake. If I were you + +Her glance of horror brought Parsons protests to an end quickly. He, +too, she thought, was under the spell of Taylors magnetism. That, or +every person she knew was a prey to those vicious and fawning +instincts to which she had yieldedthe subordination of principle to +greedof ease, or of wealth, or of place. + +She shuddered with sudden repugnance. + +For the first time she had a doubt of Parsonsa revelation of that +character which he had always succeeded in keeping hidden from her. +She drew away from him and walked to the door, telling him that _he_ +might stay, but that she did not intend to remain in the house another +minute. + +She found a horse in the stabletwo, in factthe ones Taylor had +insisted belonged to her and Martha. She threw saddle and bridle on +hers, and was mounting, when she saw Martha standing at the stable +door, watching her. + +Yo uncle says you goin away, honeyhows that? An he done say +somethin about Mr. Squint killin your father. Doan you blieve no +fool nonsense like that! Mr. Squint wouldnt kill nobodys father! +That deputy man aint nothin but a damn, no-good liar! + +Marthas vehemence was genuine, but not convincing; and the girl +mounted the horse, hanging the handbag from the pommel of the saddle. + +Yous sure goin! screamed the negro woman, frantic with a dread +that she was in danger of losing the girl for whom she had formed a +deep affection. + +You waityou hear! she demanded; if you leave this house Is a +goin, too! + +Marion waited until Martha led the other horse out, and then, with the +negro woman following, she rode eastward on the Dawes trail, not once +looking back. + +And not a word did she say to Martha as they rode into the space that +stretched to Dawes, for the girls heart was heavy with +self-accusation. + +They stopped for an instant at Mullarkys cabin, and Mrs. Mullarky +drew from the girl the story of the mornings happenings. And like +Martha, Mrs. Mullarky had an abiding faith in Taylors innocence. +Moreshe scorned the charge of murder against him. + +Squint Taylor murder your father, child! Why, Squint Taylor thought +more of Larry Harlan than he does of his right hand. An you aint +goin to run away from himfor the very good reason that I aint goin +to let you! Youre upsetthats whatan you cant think as straight +as you ought to. You come right in here an sip a cup of tea, an take +a rest. Ill put your horses away. If you dont want to stay at the +Arrow while Taylor, the judge, an all the rest of them are pullin +the packin out of that case, why, you can stay right here! + +Yielding to the insistent demands of the good woman, Marion meekly +consented and went inside. And Mrs. Mullarky tried to make her +comfortable, and attempted to soothe her and assure her of Taylors +innocence. + +But the girl was not convinced; and late in the afternoon, despite +Mrs. Mullarkys protests, she again mounted her horse and, followed by +Martha, set out toward Dawes, intending to take the first east-bound +train out of the town, to ride as far as the meager amount of money in +her purse would take her. And as she rode, the sun went down behind +the big hill on whose crest sat the big house, looming down upon the +level from its lofty eminence; and the twilight came, bathing the +world with its somber promise of greater darkness to follow. But the +darkness that was coming over the world could not be greater than that +which reigned in the girls heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIXTHE CAPTIVE + + +Carringtons experiences with Taylor had not dulled the mans savage +impulses, nor had they cooled his feverish desire for the possession +of Marion Harlan. In his brain rioted the dark, unbridled passions of +those progenitors he had claimed in his talk with Parsons on the +morning he had throttled the little man in his rooms above the Castle. + +For the moment he had postponed the real beginning of his campaign for +the possession of Dawes, his venomous hatred for Taylor and his +passion for the girl overwhelming his greed. + +He had watched the departure of Keats and his men, a flush of +exultation on his face, his eyes alight with fires that reflected the +malignant hatred he felt. And when Keats and the others disappeared +down the trail that led to the Arrow, Carrington spent some time in +Dawes. Shortly after noon he rode out the river trail toward the big +house with two men that he had engaged to set the interior in order. + +Carrington had not seen the house since the fight with Taylor in the +front room, and the wreck and ruin that met his gaze as he stood in +the door brought a sullen pout to his lips. + +But he intended to exact heavy punishment for what had occurred at the +big house; and as he watched the men setting things to ordermending +the doors and repairing the broken furniturehe drew mental pictures +that made his eyes flash with pleasure. + +He felt that by this time Keats and his men should have settled with +Taylor. After that, he, himself, would make the girl pay. + +So he was having the house put in order, that it would again be +habitable; and then, when that was done, and Taylor out of the way, he +would go to the Arrow after the girl. But before he went to the Arrow +he would await the return of Keats with the news that Taylor would no +longer be able to thwart him. + +Never in his life had he met a man he feared as he feared Taylor. +There was something about Taylor that made Carringtons soul shrivel. +He knew what it wasit was his conviction of Taylors absolute +honorableness, as arrayed against his own beastly impulses. But that +knowledge merely served to intensify his hatred for Taylor. + +Toward evening Carrington rode back to Dawes with the men; and while +there he sought news from Keats. Danforth, from whom he inquired, +could tell him nothing, and so Carrington knew that Taylor had not yet +been disposed of. But Carrington knew the time would not be long now; +and in a resort of a questionable character he found two men who +listened eagerly to his proposals. Later, the two men accompanying +him, he again rode to the big house. + +And just as dusk began to settle over the big level at the foot of the +long slopeand while the last glowing light from the day still softly +bathed the big house, throwing it into bold relief on the crest of its +flat-topped hill, Carrington was standing on the front porch, +impatiently scanning the basin for signs of Keats and his men. + +For a time he could distinguish little in the basin, for the mists of +twilight were heavy down there. And then a moving object far out in +the basin caught his gaze, and he leaned forward, peering intently, +consumed with eagerness and curiosity. + +A few minutes later, still staring into the basin, Carrington became +aware that there were two moving objects. They were headed toward +Dawes, and proceeding slowly; and at last, when they came nearer and +he saw they were two women, on horses, he stiffened and shaded his +eyes with his hands. And then he exclaimed sharply, and his eyes +glowed with triumphfor he had recognized the women as Marion Harlan +and Martha. + +Moving slowly, so that he might not attract the attention of the +women, should they happen to be looking toward the big house, he went +inside and spoke shortly to the two men he had brought with him. + +An instant later the three, Carrington leading, rode into the timber +surrounding the house, filed silently through it, and with their +horses in a slow trot, sank down the long slope that led into the big +basin. + +For a time they were not visible, as they worked their way through the +chaparral on a little level near the bottom of the slope; and then +they came into view again in some tall saccaton grass that grew as +high as the backs of their horses. + +They might have been swimming in that much water, for all the sound +they made as they headed through the grass toward the Dawes trail, for +they made no sound, and only their heads and the heads of their horses +appeared above the swaying grass. + +But they were seen. Martha, riding at a little distance behind Marion, +and straining her eyes to watch the trail ahead, noted the movement in +the saccaton, and called sharply to the girl: + +Theys somethin movin in that grass off to your right, honey! It +wouldnt be no cattle, heah; theys never no cattle round heah, fo +they aint no water. Lawsey! she exclaimed, as she got a clear view +of them; its men! + +Marion halted her horse. Marthas voice had startled her, for she had +not been thinking of the present; her thoughts had been centered on +Taylor. + +A shiver of trepidation ran over her, though, when she saw the men, +and she gathered the reins tightly in her hands, ready to wheel the +animal under her should the appearance of the men indicate the +imminence of danger. + +And when she saw that danger did indeed threaten, she spoke to the +horse and turned it toward the back trail. For she had recognized one +of the three men as Carrington. + +But the horse had not taken a dozen leaps before Carrington was beside +her, his hand at her bridle. And as her horse came to a halt, +Carringtons animal lunged against it, bringing the two riders close +together. Carrington leaned over, his face close to hers; she could +feel his breath in her face as he laughed jeeringly, his voice +vibrating with passion: + +So it _is_ you, eh? I thought for a moment that I had made a +mistake! Holding to her horses bridle-rein with a steady pull that +kept the horses close together, he spoke sharply to the two men who +had halted near Martha: Get the nigger! Ill take care of this one! + +And instantly, with a brutal, ruthless strength and energy that took +the girl completely by surprise, Carrington threw a swift arm out, +grasped her by the waist, drew her out of the saddle, and swung her +into his own, crosswise, so that she lay face up, looking at him. + +She fought him then, silently, ferociously, though futilely. For he +caught her hands, using both his own, pinning hers so that she could +not use them, meanwhile laughing lowly at her efforts to escape. + +Even in the dusk she could see the smiling, savage exultation in his +eyes; the gloating, vindictive triumph, and her soul revolted at the +horror in store for her, and the knowledge nerved her to another +mighty effort. Tearing her hands free, she fought him again, +scratching his face, striking him with all her force with her fists; +squirming and twisting, even biting one of his hands when it came +close to her lips as he essayed to grasp her throat, his eyes gleaming +with ruthless malignance. + +But her efforts availed little. In the end her arms were pinned again +to her sides, and he pulled a rope from his saddle-horn and bound +them. Then, as she lay back and glared at him, muttering imprecations +that brought a mocking smile to his lips, he urged his horse forward, +and sent it clattering up the slope, the two men following with +Martha. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXPARSONS HAS HUMAN INSTINCTS + + +Elam Parsons stood on the front porch of the Arrow ranchhouse for a +long time after Marion and Martha departed, watching them as they +slowly negotiated the narrow trail that led toward Dawes. Something of +the mans guilt assailed his consciousness as he stood therea +conception of the miserable part he had played in the girls life. + +No doubt had not Fate and Carrington played a mean trick on Parsons, +in robbing him of his money and his prospects, the man would not have +entertained the thoughts he entertained at this moment; for success +would have made a reckoning with conscience a remote possibility, dim +and far. + +And perhaps it was not conscience that was now troubling Parsons; at +least Parsons did not lay the burden of his present thoughts upon so +intangible a chimera. Parsons was too much of a materialist to admit +he had a conscience. + +But a twinge of something seized Parsons as he watched the girl ride +away, and bitter thoughts racked his soul. He could not, however, +classify his emotions, and so he stood there on the porch, undecided, +vacillating, in the grip of a vague disquiet. + +Parsons sat on the porch until long after noon; for, after Marion and +Martha had vanished into the haze of distance, Parsons dropped into a +chair and let his chin sink to his chest. + +He did not get up to prepare food for himself; he did not think of +eating, for the big, silent ranchhouse and the gloomy, vacant +appearance of the other buildings drew the mans attention to the +aching emptiness of his own life. He had sought to gain +everythingscheming, planning, plotting dishonestly; taking unfair +advantage; robbing people without compunctionand he had gained +nothing. Yeshe had gained Carringtons contempt! + +The recollection of Carringtons treatment of him fired his passions +with a thousand licking, leaping flames. In his gloomy meditations +over the departure of the girl, he had almost forgotten Carrington. +But he thought of Carrington now; and he sat stiff and rigid in the +chair, glowering, his lips in a pout, his soul searing with hatred. + +But even the nursing of that passion failed to satisfy Parsons. +Something lacked. There was still that conviction of utter +basenesshis own basenessto torture him. And at last, toward evening, +he discovered that he longed for the girl. He wanted to be near her; +he wanted to do something for her to undo the wrong he had done her; +he wanted to make some sort of reparation. + +So the man assured himself. But he knew that deep in his inner +consciousness lurked the dread knowledge that Taylor was aware of his +baseness. For Taylor had overheard the conversation between Carrington +and himself on the train, and Parsons feared that should Taylor by any +chance escape Keats and his men and return to the Arrow to find Marion +gone, he would vent his rage and fury upon the man who had sinned +against the woman he loved. That was the emotion which dominated +Parsons as he sat on the porch; it was the emotion that made the man +fervently desire to make reparation to the girl; it was the emotion +that finally moved him out of his chair and upon a horse that he found +in the stable, to ride toward Dawes in the hope of finding her. + +Parsons, too, stopped at the Mullarky cabin. He discovered that Marion +had left there shortly before, after having refused Mrs. Mullarkys +proffer of shelter until the charge against Taylor could be disproved. + +Parsons listened impatiently to the womans voluble defense of Taylor, +and her condemnation of Keats and all those who were leagued against +the Arrow owner. And then Parsons rode on. + +Far out in the basin, indistinct in the twilight haze, he saw Marion +and Martha riding toward Dawes, and he urged his horse in an effort to +come up with them before they reached the bottom of the long, gradual +rise that would take them into town. + +Parsons had got within half a mile of them when he saw them halt and +wait the coming of three horsemen, who advanced toward them from the +opposite direction. Parsons did not feel like joining the group, for +just at that moment he felt as though he could not bear to have anyone +see his facethey might have discovered the guilt in itand so he +waited. + +He saw the three men ride close to the other riders; he watched in +astonishment while one of the strange riders pursued one of the women, +catching her. + +Parsons saw it all. But he did not ride forward, for he was in the +grip of a mighty terror that robbed him of power to move. For he knew +one of the strange riders was Carrington. He would have recognized him +among a thousand other men. + +Parsons watched the three men climb the big slope that led to the +great house on the flat-topped hill. For many minutes after they had +reached the crest of the hill Parsons sat motionless on his horse, +gazing upward. And when he saw a light flare up in one of the rooms of +the big house, he cursed, his face convulsed with impotent rage. + + * * * * * + +Marion Harlan did not yield to the overpowering weakness that seized +her after she realized that further resistance to Carrington would be +useless. And instead of yielding to the hysteria that threatened her, +she clenched her hands and bit her lips in an effort to retain her +composure. She succeeded. And during the progress of her captors +horse up the long slope she kept a good grip on herself, fortifying +herself against what might come when she and her captor reached the +big house. + +When they reached the crest of the hill, Carrington ordered the two +men to take Martha around to the back of the house and confine her in +one of the rooms. One man was to guard her. The other was to wait on +the front porch until Carrington called him. + +The girl had decided to make one more struggle when Carrington +dismounted with her, but though she fought hard and bitterly, she did +not succeed in escaping Carrington, and the latter finally lifted her +in his arms and carried her into the front room, the room in which +Carrington had fought with Taylor the day Taylor had killed the three +men who had ambushed him. + +Carrington lighted a lampit was this light Parsons had seen from the +basinplaced it on a shelf, and in its light grinned triumphantly at +the girl. + +Well, we are here, he said. + +In his voice was that passion that had been in it that other time, +when he had pursued her into the house, and she had escaped him by +hiding in the attic. She cringed from him, backing away a little, and, +noting the movement, he laughed hoarsely. + +Dont worry, he said, at least for an hour or two. Ive got +something more important on my mind. Do you know what it is? he +demanded, grinning hugely. Its Taylor! He suddenly seemed to +remember that he did not know why she had been abroad at dusk on the +Dawes trail, and he came close to her. + +Did you see Keats today? + +She did not answer, meeting his gaze fairly, her eyes flashing with +scorn and contempt. But he knew from the flame in her eyes that she +had seen Keats, and he laughed derisively. + +So you saw him, he jeered; and you know that he came for Taylor. +Did he find Taylor at the Arrow? + +Again she did not answer, and he went on, suspecting that Taylor had +not been at the Arrow, and that Keats had gone to search for him. No, +Keats didnt find himthats plain enough. I should have enjoyed being +there to hear Keats tell you that Taylor had killed your father. You +heard that, didnt you? Yes, he added, his grin broadening; you +heard that. So thats why you left the Arrow! Well, I dont blame you +for leaving. + +He turned toward the door and wheeled again to face her. Youll enjoy +this, he sneered; youve been so thick with Taylor. Bah! he added +as he saw her face redden at the insult; Ive known where you stood +with Taylor ever since I caught you flirting with him on the station +platform the day we came to Dawes. Thats why you went to the Arrow +from hererefusing my attentions to _give_ yourself to the man who +killed your father! + +He laughed, and saw her writhe under the sound of it. + +It hurts, eh? he said venomously; well, this will hurt, too. Keats +went out to get Taylor, but he will never bring Taylor inalive. He +has orders to kill himunderstand? Thats why Ive got more important +business than you to attend to for the next few hours. Im going to +Dawes to find out if Keats has returned. And when Keats comes in with +the news that Taylor is done for, Im coming back here for you! + +Calling the man who was waiting on the porch, Carrington directed him +to watch the girl; and then, with a last grin at her, he went out, +mounted his horse, and rode the trail toward Dawes. And as he rode, he +laughed maliciously, for he had not told her that the charge against +Taylor was a false one, and that, so far as he knew, Taylor was not +guilty of murdering her father. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIA RESCUE + + +An early moon stuck a pallid rim over the crest of the big, hill-like +plateau as Parsons sat on his horse in the basin, and Parsons watched +it rise in its silvery splendor and bathe the world with an effulgent +glow. It threw house and timber on the plateau crest in bold relief, a +dark silhouette looming against a flood of shimmering light, and +Parsons could see the porch he knew so well, and could even +distinguish the break in the timber that led to the house, which +merged into the trail that stretched to Dawes. + +Parsons was still laboring with the devils of indecision and doubt. He +knew why Carrington had captured Marion, and he yearned to take the +girl from the manfor her own sake, and for the purpose of satisfying +his vengeance. But he knew that certain death awaited him up there +should he venture to show himself to Carrington. And yet a certain +desperate courage stole into Parsons as he watched from the basin, and +when, about half an hour after he had seen the flicker of light filter +out of one of the windows of the house, he saw a man emerge, mount a +horse, and ride away, he drew a deep breath of resolution and urged +his own horse up the slope. For the man who had mounted the horse up +there was Carringtonthere could be no doubt of that. + +Shivering, though still obeying the courageous impulse that had seized +him, Parsons continued to ascend the slope. He went half way and then +halted, listening. No sound disturbed the solemn stillness that had +followed Carringtons departure. + +Reassured, though by this time he was sweating coldly, Parsons +accomplished the remainder of the intervening space upward. Far back +in the timber he brought his horse to a halt, dismounted, and again +listened. Hearing nothing that alarmed him, except a loud, angry voice +from the rear of the housea voice which he knew as Marthashe +cautiously made his way to the front porch, tiptoed across it, and +peered stealthily into the room out of which the light still shone, +its flickering rays stabbing weakly into the outside darkness. + +Looking into the room, Parsons could see Marion sitting in a chair. +Her hands were bound, and she was leaning back in the chair, her hair +disheveled, her face chalk-white, and her eyes filled with a haunting, +terrible dread. Near the door, likewise seated on a chair, his back to +the big room that adjoined the one in which he sat, was a +villainous-looking man who was watching the girl with a leering grin. + +The sight brought a murderous passion into Parsons heart, nerving him +for the deed that instantly suggested itself to him. He crept off the +porch again, moving stealthily lest he make the slightest sound that +would warn the watcher at the door, and searched at a corner of the +porch until he found what he was looking fora heavy club, a spoke +from one of the wheels of a wagon. + +Parsons knew about where to find it, for during the days that he had +sat on the porch nursing his resentment against Carrington, he had +gazed long at the wagon-spoke, wishing that he might have an +opportunity to use it on Carrington. + +He took it, balancing it, testing its weight. And now a hideous terror +seized him, almost paralyzing him. For though Parsons had robbed many +men, he had never resorted to violence; and for a time he stood with +the club in his hand, unable to move. + +He moved at last, though, his face transformed from the strength of +the passion that had returned, and he carefully stepped on the porch, +crossed it, and stood, leaning forward, peering into the room through +the outside door left open by Carrington. The outside door opened from +the big room adjoining that in which the watcher sat, and Parsons +could see the man, who, with his back toward the door, was still +looking at Marion. + +Entering the big room, Parsons saw Marions eyes widen as she looked +full at him. He shook his head at her; her face grew whiter, and she +began to talk to the other man. + +Only a second or two elapsed then until Parsons struck. The man rolled +out of his chair without a sound, and Parsons, leaping over him, +trembling, his breath coming in great gasps, ran to Marion and unbound +her hands. + +Together they flew outside, where they found the girls horse tethered +near a tree, and Parsons animal standing where he had left it. + +Mounting, the girl whispered to Parsons. She was trembling, and her +voice broke with a wailing quaver when she spoke: + +Where shall we go, Elamwhere? WeI cant go back to the Arrow! Oh, I +just cant! And Carrington will be back! Oh! isnt there any _way_ to +escape him? + +Well go to Dawes, girl; thats where well go! declared Parsons, +his dread and fear of the big man equaling that of the girl. Well go +to Dawes and tell them there just what kind of a man Carrington isand +what he has tried to do with you tonight! There must be some men in +Dawes who will not stand by and see a woman persecuted! + +And as they rode the river trail toward the town, the girl, white and +silent, riding a little distance ahead of him, Parsons felt for the +first time in his life the tingling thrills that come of an unselfish +deed courageously performed. And the experience filled him with the +spirit to do other good and unselfish deeds. + +They rode fast for a time, until the girl again spoke of Carringtons +announced intention to return shortly. Then they rode more cautiously, +and it was well they did. For they had almost reached Dawes when they +heard the whipping tread of a horses hoofs on the trail, coming +toward them. They rode well back from the trail, and, concealed by +some heavy brush, saw Carrington riding toward the big house. He went +past them, vanishing into the shadows of the trees that fringed the +trail, and for a long time the girl and Parsons did not move for fear +Carrington might have slowed his horse and would hear them. And when +they did come out of their concealment and were again on the Dawes +trail, they rode fast, with the dread of Carringtons wrath to spur +them on. + + * * * * * + +It _had_ been Marthas voice that Parsons had heard when he had been +standing in the timber near the front of the house. The negro woman +was walking back and forth in the room where her captor had confined +her, vigorously berating the man. She was a dusky thundercloud of +wrath, who rumbled verbal imprecations with every breath. Her captora +small man with a coarse voice, a broken nose, and a scraggy, drooping +mustachestood in the doorway looking at her fiercely, with obvious +intent to intimidate the indignant Amazon. + +At the instant Parsons heard her voice she was confronting the man, +her eyes popping with fury. + +You let me out of heah this minute, yo white trash! Yo heah! An +doan you think Is scared of you, cause I aint! If you doan hop +away from that do, Is goin to mash yo haid in wif this yere chair! +You git away now! + +The man grinned. It was a forced grin, and his face whitened with it, +betraying to Martha the fear he felt of herwhich she had suspected +from the moment he had brought her in and the light from the kitchen +lamp shone on his face. + +She took a threatening step toward him; a tentative movement, a +testing of his courage. And when she saw him retreat from her +slightly, she lunged at him, raising the chair she held in her hands. + +Possibly the man was reluctant to resort to violence; he may have had +a conviction that the detaining of Martha was not at all necessary to +the success of Carringtons plan to subjugate the white girl, or he +might have been merely afraid of Martha. Whatever his thoughts, the +man continued to retreat from the negro woman, and as she pursued him, +her courage grew, and the mans vanished in inverse ratio. And as he +passed the center of the kitchen, he wheeled and ran out of the door, +Martha following him. + +Outside, the man ran toward the stable. For an instant Martha stood +looking after him. Then, thinking Carrington was still in the house, +and that there was no hope of her frightening him as she had +frightened the little man who had stood guard over her, she ran to +where her horse stood, clambered into the saddle, and sent the animal +down the big slope toward Mullarkys cabin, where she hoped to find +Mullarky, to send him to the big house to rescue the girl from +Carrington. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIITAYLOR BECOMES RILED + + +By the time Bud Hemmingway had finished his grotesque expression of +the delight that had seized him, and had got to his knees and was +grinning widely at Taylor, the horses of the Arrow outfit were running +down the neck of the gorge, their hoofs drumming on the hard floor of +the bottom, awakening echoes that filled the gorge with an incessant +rumbling clatter that might have caused one to think a regiment of +cavalry was advancing at a gallop. + +Bud turned his gaze up the gorge and saw them. + +Aint they great! he yelled at Taylor. The leap in Buds voice +betrayed something of the strained tenseness with which the man had +endured his besiegement. + +And now that there was an even chance for him, Buds old humorous and +carefree impulses were again ascendant. He got to his feet, grinning, +the spirit of battle in his eyes, and threw a shot at a Keats man, far +up on a hillside, who had left his concealment and was running upward. +At the report of the rifle the man reeled, caught himself, and +continued to clamber upward, another bullet from Buds rifle throwing +up a dust spray at his feet. + +Other figures were now running; the slopes of the hills in the +vicinity were dotted with moving black spots as the Keats men, also +hearing the clattering of hoofs, and divining that their advantage was +gone, made a concerted break for their horses, which they had hidden +in a ravine beyond the hills. + +Taylor did not do any shooting. While Bud was standing erect among the +pile of rocks which had served as a shelter for him during the +afternoon, his rifle growing hot in his hands, and picturesque curses +issued from his lips, Taylor walked to Spotted Tail and tightened the +saddle cinches. This task did not take him long, but by the time it +was finished the Arrow outfit had dispersed the Keats men, who were +fleeing toward Dawes in scattered units. + +Bothwell, big and grim, rode to where Taylor was standing, his voice +booming as he looked sharply at Taylor. + +I reckon we got here just in time, boss! he said. They didnt git +you or Bud? No? at Taylors grin. Well, were wipin them outthats +all! That Keats bunch cant run in no raw deal like that on the +Arrownot while Im range boss. Law? Bah! Every damned man that runs +with Keats would have stretched hemp before this if theyd have been +any law in the country! A clean-up, ehthats what they tryin to pull +off. Well, watch my smoke! + +His voice leaping with passion, Bothwell slapped his horse sharply, +and as the animal leaped down the trail toward Dawes, Bothwell shouted +to the other men of the outfit, who had halted at a little distance +back in the gorge: + +Come a runnin, you yaps! That ornery bunch cant git out of this +section without hittin the basin trail! + +Bothwell and the others fled down the gorge like a devastating +whirlwind before Taylor could offer a word of objection. + +As a matter of fact, Taylor had paid little attention to Bothwells +threats. He knew that the big range boss was in a bitter rage, and he +had been aware of the ill-feeling that had existed for some time +between Keats and his friends and the men of the Arrow outfit. + +But the deserved punishment of Keats was not the burden his mind +carried at this instant. Dominating every other thought in Taylors +brain was the obvious, naked fact that Carrington had struck at him +again; that he had struck underhandedly, as usual; and that he would +continue to fight with that method until he was victorious or beaten. + +And yet Taylor was not so much concerned over the blow that had been +aimed at him as he was of its probable effect upon Marion Harlan. For +of course the girl had heard of the charge by this timeor she would +hear of it. It would be all the same in the end. And at a blow the +girls faith in him would be destroyedthe faith that he had been +nurturing, and upon which he had built his hopes. + +To be sure he had Larry Harlans note to show her, to convince her of +his innocence, but he knew that once the poison of suspicion and doubt +got into her heart, she could never give him that complete confidence +of which he had dreamed. She might, now that Carrington had spread his +poison, conclude that he had forged the note, trusting in it to disarm +the suspicions of herself and of the world. And if she were to demand +why he had not shown her the note beforewhen she had first come to +the Arrowhe could not tell her that he had determined never to show +it to her, lest she understand that he knew her mothers sordid +history. That secret, he had promised himself, she would never know; +nor would she ever know of the vicious significance of that +conversation he had overheard between Carrington and Parsons on the +train coming to Dawes. He was convinced that if she knew these things +she would never be able to look him in the eyes again. + +Therefore, knowing the damage Carrington had wrought by bringing the +charge of murder against him, Taylors rage was now definitely +centered upon his enemy. The pursuit and punishment of Keats was a +matter of secondary consideration in his mindBothwell and the men of +the outfit would take care of the man. But Taylor could no longer +fight off the terrible rage that had seized him over the knowledge of +Carringtons foul methods, and when he mounted Spotted Tail and urged +him down the trail toward the Arrow ranchhouse, there was a set to his +lips that caused Norton, who had brought his horse to a halt near him, +to look sharply at him and draw a quick breath. + +Not speaking to Norton, nor to Budwho had also remained to watch +himTaylor straightened Spotted Tail to the trail and sent him flying +toward the Arrow. Taylor looked neither to the right nor left, nor did +he speak to Norton and Bud, who rode hard after him. Down the trail at +a point where the neck of the gorge broadened and merged into the +grass level that stretched, ever widening, to the Arrow, Spotted Tail +and his rider flashed past a big cluster of low hills from which came +flame-streaks and the sharp, cracking reports of rifles, the yells of +men in pain, and the hoarse curses of men in the grip of the fighting +rage. + +But Taylor might not have heard the sounds. Certainly he could not +have seen the flame-streaks, unless he glimpsed them out of the +corners of his eyes, for he did not turn his head as he urged Spotted +Tail on, speeding him over the great green sweep of grass at a pace +that the big horse had never yet been ridden. + +Laboring behind him, for they knew that something momentous impended, +Norton and Bud tried their best to keep up with the flying beast ahead +of them. But the sorrel ridden by Norton, and even the great, rangy, +lionhearted King, could not hold the pace that Spotted Tail set for +them, and they fell slowly back until, when still several miles from +the Arrow, horse and rider vanished into the dusk ahead of them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIIIRETRIBUTION + + +Twice descending the long slope leading to the basin, Marthas horse +stumbled. The first time the negro woman lifted him to his feet by +jerking sharply on the reins, but when he stumbled the second time, +Martha was not alert and the horse went to his knees. Unprepared, +Martha was jolted out of the saddle and she fell awkwardly, landing on +her right shoulder with a force that knocked the breath out of her. + +She lay for a short time, gasping, her body racked with pain, and at +last, when she succeeded in getting to her feet, the horse had strayed +some little distance from her and was quietly browsing the tops of +some saccaton. + +It was several minutes before Martha caught the animalseveral minutes +during which she loosed some picturesque and original profanity that +caused the experienced range horse to raise his ears inquiringly. + +Then, when she caught the horse, she had some trouble getting into the +saddle, though she succeeded after a while, groaning, and grunting, +and whimpering. + +But Martha forgot her pains and misery once she was in the saddle +again, and she rode fast, trembling with eagerness, her sympathies and +her concern solely for the white girl who, she supposed, was a +prisoner in the hands of the ruthless and unprincipled man that +Martha, with her limited vocabulary, had termed many times a +rapscallion. + +Martha headed her horse straight for the Mullarky cabin, guided by a +faint shaft of light that issued from one of its windows. + +When she reached the cabin she found no one there but Mrs. Mullarky. +Ben, Mrs. Mullarky told Martha, had gone to Dawesin fact, he had been +in Dawes all day, she supposed, for he had left home early that +morning. + +Martha gasped out her news, and Mrs. Mullarkys face whitened. While +Martha watched her in astonishment, she tore off the gingham apron +that adorned her, threw it into a corner, and ran into another room, +from which she emerged an instant later carrying a rifle. + +The Irishwomans face was pale and set, and the light of a great wrath +gleamed in her eyes. Martha, awed by the womans belligerent +appearance, could only stand and blink at her, her mouth gaping with +astonishment. + +You go right on to the Arrow! she commanded Martha, as she went out +of the door; mebbe youll find somebody there by this time, an if +you do, send them to the big house. Im goin over there right this +minute to take that dear little girl away from that big brute! + +She started while Martha was again painfully mounting her horse, and +the two women rode away in opposite directionsMartha whimpering with +pain, and Mrs. Mullarky silent, grim, with a wild rage gripping her +heart. + + * * * * * + +Taylor, on Spotted Tail, was approaching the Arrow ranchhouse at a +speed slightly greater than that into which the big horse had fallen +shortly after he had left the gorge. The spirited animal was just +warming to his work, and he was doing his best when he flashed past +the big cattle corral, going with the noise of rushing wind. In an +instant he was at the long stretch of fence which formed the ranchyard +side of the horse corral, and in another instant he was sliding to a +halt near the edge of the front porch of the ranchhouse itself. There +he drew a deep breath and looked inquiringly at his master, while the +latter slid off his back, leaped upon the porch, and with a bound +crossed the porch floor, knocking chairs helter-skelter as he went. + +The house was dark, but Taylor ran through the rooms, calling sharply +for Parsons and Marion, but receiving no reply. When he emerged from +the house his face, in the light of the moon that had climbed above +the horizon some time before, was like that of a man who has just +looked upon the dead face of his best friend. + +For Taylor was convinced that he had looked upon death in the +ranchhouseupon the death of his hopes. He stood for an instant on the +porch, while his passions raged through him, and then with a laugh of +bitter humor he leaped on Spotted Tail. + +Half-way to the Mullarky cabin, with the big horse running like the +wind, Taylor saw a shape looming out of the darkness ahead of him. He +pulled Spotted Tail down, and loosed one of his pistols, and +approached the shape warily, his muscles stiff and taut and ready for +action. + +But it was only Martha who rode up to him. Her fortitude gone, her +pains convulsing her, she wailed to Taylor the story of the nights +tragic adventure. + +An Carringtons got missy in the big house! she concluded. She fit +him powerful hard, but it was no usethat rapscallion too much fo +her! + +She shouted the last words at Taylor, for Spotted Tail had received a +jab in the sides with the rowels that hurt him cruelly, and, angered, +he ran like a deer with the hungry cry of a wolf-pack in his ears. + +Like a black streak they rushed by Mrs. Mullarky, who breathed a +fervent, Oh, thank the Lord, its Taylor! and before the good woman +could catch her breath again, Spotted Tail and his rider had opened a +huge, yawning space between himself and the laboring horse the woman +rode. + +Riding with all his muscles taut as bowstrings, and a terrible, +constricting pressure across his chestso mighty were the savage +passions that rioted within himTaylor reached the foot of the long +slope that led to the big house, and sent Spotted Tail tearing upward +with rapid, desperate leaps. + + * * * * * + +When Carrington reached the big house soon after he had unknowingly +passed Marion Harlan and Parsons on the river trail, he was in a +sullen, impatient mood. + +For no word concerning Keatss movements had reached Dawes, and +Carrington was afflicted with a gloomy presentiment that something had +happened to the manthat he had not been able to locate Taylor, or +that he had found him and Taylor had succeeded in escaping him. + +Carrington did not go at once into the house, for captive though she +was, and completely within his power, he did not want the girl to see +him in his present mood. Lighting a cigar, and chewing it viciously, +he walked to the stable. There, standing in the shadow of the +building, he came upon the guard Martha had routed. He spoke sharply +to the man, asking him why he was not inside guarding the nigger. + +The man brazenly announced that Martha had escaped him, omitting +certain details and substituting others from his imagination. + +If she hadnt been a woman, now, added the man in self-extenuation. + +Carrington laughed lowly. We didnt need _her_, anyway, he said, and +the other laughed with him. + +The laugh restored Carringtons good-nature, and he left the man and +went into the front room of the house. Had he paused on the porch to +listen, or had he glanced toward the big slope that dropped to the +basin, he would not have entered the house just then. And he _would_ +have paused on the porch had it not been that the intensity of his +desires drove him to concentrate all his senses upon Marion. + +He crossed the porch and entered the room, and then halted, staring +downward with startled eyes at the body of the guard huddled on the +floor, a thin stream of blood staining the carpet beneath his head. + +Cursing, Carrington stepped into the other roomthe room in which he +had fought with Taylorthe room in which he had left Marion Harlan +bound and sitting on a chair. The lamp on the shelf was still burning, +and in its light Carrington saw the rope he had used to bind the +girls hands. + +A bitter rage seized him as he looked at the rope, and he threw it +from him, cursing. In an instant he was outside the house and had +leaped upon his horse. He headed the animal toward the long slope +leading to the Arrow trail, for he suspected the girl would go +straight back there, despite any conviction she might have of Taylors +guiltfor there she would find Parsons, who would give her what +comfort he could. Or she might stop at the Mullarky cabin. Certainly +she would not go to Dawes, for she must know that _he_ ruled +DawesParsons must have told her thatand that if she went to Dawes, +she would be merely postponing her surrender to him. + +He had plenty of time, even if she were in Dawes, he meditated as he +sent his horse over the crest of the slope, for there were no trains +out of the town during the night, and if she were not at the Arrow or +Mullarkys, he was sure to catch her later. + +He was half-way down the slope, his horse making slow work of +threading its way through the gnarled chaparral growth, when, looking +downward, he saw another horse leaping up the slope toward him. + +In the glare of the moon that was behind Carrington, he could see +horse and rider distinctly, and he jerked his own horse to a halt, +cursing horribly. For the horse that was leaping toward him like a +black demon out of the night was Spotted Tail. And Spotted Tails +rider was Taylor. Carrington could see the mans face, with the +terrible passion that distorted it, and Carrington wheeled his horse, +making frenzied efforts to escape up the slope. + +Carrington was not more than a hundred feet from the big black horse +and its indomitable rider when he wheeled his own animal, and he had +not traveled more than a few feet when he realized that Spotted Tail +was gaining rapidly. + +Cursing again, though his face was ghastly with the fear that had +seized him, Carrington slipped from his horse, and, running around so +that the animal was between him and Taylor, he drew a heavy pistol +from a hip-pocket. And when the oncoming horse and rider were within +twenty-five or thirty feet of him, Carrington took deliberate aim and +fired. + +He grinned vindictively as he saw Taylor reel in the saddle, and he +fired again, and saw Taylor drop to the ground beside Spotted Tail. + +Carrington could not tell whether his second shot had struck Taylor, +and before he could shoot again, Taylor dove headlong toward a jagged +rock that thrust a bulging shoulder upward. Carrington threw a +snapshot at him as he leaped, but again he could not have told whether +the bullet had gone home. + +Keeping the horse between himself and the rock behind which Taylor had +thrown himself, Carrington leaped behind another that stood near the +edge of the chaparral clump through which he had been riding when he +had seen Taylor coming up the slope. Seeming to sense their danger, +both horses slowly moved off out of the line of fire and proceeded +unconcernedly to browse the clumps of grass that dotted the side of +the slope. + +And now began a long, strained silence. Carrington could see Taylors +rock, but it was at the edge of the chaparral, and Taylor might easily +slip into the chaparral and begin a circling movement that would bring +him behind Carrington. The thought brought a damp sweat out upon +Carringtons forehead, and he began to cast fearing glances toward the +chaparral at his side. He watched it long, and the longer he watched, +the greater grew his fear. And at last, at the end of half an hour, +the fear grew to a conviction that Taylor was stalking him in the +chaparral. No longer able to endure the suspense, Carrington left the +shelter of his rock and began to work his way around the edge of the +chaparral clump. + +Taylor had felt the heat and the shock of Carringtons first bullet, +and he knew it had gone into his left arm. The second bullet had +missed him cleanly, and he landed behind the rock, with all his senses +alert, paying no attention to his wound. + +He had recognized Carrington, and with the cold calm that comes with +implacable determination, Taylor instantly began to take an inventory +of the hazards and the advantages of his position. And after his +examination was concluded, he dropped to his hands and knees and began +to work his way into the chaparral. + +He moved cautiously, for he knew that should he disturb the rank +growth he would disclose his whereabouts to Carrington, should the +latter have gained a vantageous point from where he could watch the +thicket for just such signs of Taylors presence. + +But Taylor made no such signs; he had not spent the greater part of +his life in the open to be outdone in this grim strategy by an eastern +man. He grinned wickedly at the thought. + +He suspected that Carrington might try the very trick he himself was +trying, and that thought made him wary. + +Working his way into the thicket, he at last reached a point near its +center, upon a slight mound surrounded by stunt oak and quivering +aspen. There, concealed and alert, he waited for Carrington to show +himself. + +Carrington, though, did not betray his presence in the thicket. For +Carrington was not in the thicket when Taylor reached its center. +Carrington had started into the thicket, but he had not proceeded very +far when he began to be afflicted with a dread premonition of Taylors +presence somewhere in the vicinity. + +A clammy sweat broke out on the big man; a panic of fear seized him, +and he began to creep backward, out of the thicket. And by the time +Taylor reached his vantagepoint, Carrington was crouching at the +thickets edge, near the rock where he had been concealed, oppressed +with a conviction that Taylor was working his way toward him through +the thicket. + +The big man waited, his nerves taut, his muscles quivering and +cringing at the thought that any instant a bullet sent at him by +Taylor might strike him. For he knew that Taylor had come for him; he +was now convinced that Marion Harlan _had_ gone to the Arrow, that she +had told Taylor what had happened to her, and that Taylor had come +straight to the big house to punish him for his misdeeds. + +And Carrington had a dread of the sort of punishment Taylor had dealt +him upon a former occasion, and he wanted no more of it. That was why +he had used his pistol instantly upon recognizing Taylor. He wished, +now, that he had not been so hasty; for he had taken the initiative, +and Taylor would not scruple to imitate him. + +In fact, he was so certain that at that moment Taylor was creeping +upon him from some point with the fury of murder in his heart, that he +got to his feet and, looking over the top of the rock, searched with +wild eyes for his horse. And when he saw the animal not more than +twenty or thirty feet from him, he could not longer resist the panic +that had seized him. Crouching, he ran for several yards on his hands +and feet and then, nearing his horse, he stood upright and ran for it. + +As he ran he cringed, for he expected a pistol-shot to greet his +appearance at the side of his horse. But no report came, and he +reached the horse, threw himself into the saddle and raced the animal +down the slope. + +He was conscious of a pulse of elation, for he thought he had eluded +Taylor, but just as his horse struck the edge of the big level +Carrington looked back, to see Spotted Tail slipping down the slope +with a smooth swiftness that terrified the big man. + +He turned then and began to ride as he had never ridden before. The +animal under him was strong, courageous, and speedy; but Carrington +knew he would have need of all those sterling qualities if he hoped to +escape the iron-hearted horse Taylor bestrode. And so Carrington +leaned forward, trying to lighten the load, slapping the beasts neck +with the palm of his hand, urging him with his voicecoaxing him to +the best endeavors. For Carrington knew that somewhere in the vast +expanse of grass land and spread before him Keats and his men must be. +And his only hope lay in reaching them before the avenger, astride the +big horse that was speeding on his trail like a black thunderbolt, +could bring his rider within pistol-shot distance of him. + +But Carrington had not gone more than half a mile when he realized +that the race was to be a short one. Twice after leaving the edge of +the slope Carrington looked back. The first time Spotted Tail seemed +to be far away; and the next time the big, black animal was so close +that Carrington cried out hoarsely. + +And then as Carrington felt the distance being shortenedas he felt +the presence of the black horse almost at the withers of his own +animalheard the breathing of the big pursuing beast, he knew that he +was not to be shot. + +Before he could swing his own horse to escape, the big, black horse +was beside his own, and one of Taylors arms shot out, the fingers +gripping the collar of the big mans coat. Then with a vicious pull, +swinging the black horse wide, Taylor jerked Carrington out of the +saddle, so that he fell sidewise into the deep grasswhile the black +horse, eager for a run, and not immediately responding to Taylors +pull on the reins, ran some feet before he halted and wheeled. + +And when he did finally face toward the spot where the big man had +been jerked from the saddle, it was to face a succession of +flame-streaks that shot from the spot where Carrington stood trying +his best to send into Taylor a bullet that would put an end to the +horrible presentiment of death that now filled the big mans heart. + +He emptied his pistol and saw the black horse coming steadily toward +him, its rider erect in the saddle, seeming not to heed the savagely +barking weapon. And when the gun was empty, Carrington threw it from +him and began to run. He ran, and with grim mockery, Taylor followed +him a little distancefollowed him until Carrington, exhausted, his +breath coming in great coughing gasps, could run no farther. And then +Taylor brought the big black to a halt near him, slid easily out of +the saddle, and stepped forward to look into Carringtons face, his +own stiff and set, his eyes gleaming with a passion that made the +other man groan hopelessly. + +Now, you miserable whelp! said Taylor. + +He lunged forward and the bodies of the two men made a swaying blot +out of which came the sounds of blows, bitter and savage. + + * * * * * + +The little broken-nosed man laughed a little in recollection of +Carringtons words about Martha. The big man had let him off easily, +and he was properly grateful. And yet his gratitude did not prevent +him from betraying curiosity; and he watched the front of the house +for Carringtons reappearance, wondering what he meant to do with the +white girl, now that he had her. + +Still watching the front porch, he saw Carrington run for his horse, +leap upon it and sink down the side of the slope. + +The little man then ran to the front of the house and, concealed among +the trees, watched the duel that was waged in the moonlight. He saw +Carrington break from the thicket, mount his horse and race out into +the plain; he saw Taylorfor he had recognized himsend Spotted Tail +after Carrington. But he did not see the finish of the race, nor did +he see what followed. But some minutes later he saw a big, black horse +tearing toward him from the spot where the race had ended. He muttered +gutturally and profanely, leaped on his horse and sent it plunging +down the trail toward Dawes, his face ghastly with fear. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIVTHE WILL OF THE MOB + + +Parsons had always been an unemotional man. His own character being +immune to the little twinging impulses of humanness that grow to +generous and unselfish deeds, he had looked with derision upon all +persons who betrayed concern for their fellow-men. And so Parsons had +lived apart from his fellows; he had watched them from across the gulf +of disinterest, where emotion was foreign. + +But tonight Parsons was learning what emotion is. Not from others, but +from himself. Emotionsthousands of them seethed in his brain and +heart. He was in an advanced state of hysteria when he rode down the +Dawes trail with Marion Harlan. For there was the huge, implacable, +ruthless, and murderous Carrington, whom he had just passed on the +trail, to menace his very lifeand he knew that just as soon as +Carrington returned to the big house and found Marion gone and the +guard dead, he would ride back to Dawes, seeking vengeance. And +Carrington would know it was Parsons who had robbed him of the girl; +for Carrington would inquire, and would discover that he had ridden +into town with Marion. And when Parsons and Marion rode into Dawes +fear, stark, abject, and naked, was in the mans soul. + +Dawes was aflame with light as the two passed down the street; and +Parsons left the girl to sit on her horse in front of a darkened +store, while he rode down the street, peering into other stores, +alight and inviting. He hardly knew what he did want. He knew, +however, that there was little time, for at any minute now Carrington +might come thundering into town on his errand of vengeance; and +whatever Parsons did must be done quickly. + +He chose the second store he came to. He thought the place was a +billiard-room until he entered and stood just inside the door blinking +at the lights; and then he knew it was a saloon, for he saw the bar, +the back-bar behind it, littered with bottles, and many tables +scattered around. More, there were perhaps a hundred men in the +placesome of them drinking; and at the sight of them all, realizing +the mightiness of their number, Parsons raised his hands aloft and +screamed frenziedly: + +Men! Theres been a crime committed tonight! At the Huggins house! +Carrington did it! He abducted my niece! I want you men to help me! +Carrington is going to kill me! And I want you to protect my niece! + +For an instant after Parsons voice died in a breathless gasp, for he +blurted his story, the words coming in a stream, with hardly a pause +between them; there was an odd, strained silence. Then a man far back +in the room guffawed loudly: + +Plumb loco. Too much forty-rod! + +There was a half-hearted gale of laughter at the mans taunt; and then +many men were around Parsons, ready to laugh and jeer. And while some +of the men peered at Parsons, cynically inspecting him for signs of +drunkenness, several others ran to the open door and looked out into +the street. + +Theres somethin in his yappin, boys, stated a man who returned +from the door; theres a gal out here, sure enough, setting on a +hoss, waitin. + +There was a concerted rush outside to see the girl, and Parsons was +shoved and jostled until he, too, was forced to go out. And by the +time Parsons reached Marions side she had been questioned by the men. +And wrathful curses arose from the lips of men around her. + +Didnt I know he was that kind of a skunk! shouted a man near +Parsons. I knowed it as soon as he beat Taylor out of the election! + +Im for stringin the scum up! yelled another man. This town can +git along without guys that go around abductin wimmen! + +There were still other lurid and threatening comments. And many +profane epithets rose, burdened with menace, for Carrington. But the +girl, humiliated, weak, and trembling, did not hear all of them. She +saw other men emerging from doorwaysall of them running toward her to +join those who had come out of the saloon. And then she saw a woman +coming toward her, the men making a pathway for hera motherly looking +woman who, when she came near the girl, smiled up at her +sympathetically and reached up her hands to help the girl out of the +saddle. + +Marion slipped down, and the womans arms went around her. And with +many grimly pitying glances from the men in the crowd about her, which +parted to permit her to pass, she was led into a private dwelling at a +little distance down the street, into a cozy room where there were +signs of decency and refinement. The woman placed the girl in a chair, +and stood beside her, smoothing her hair and talking to her in low, +comforting tones; while outside a clamor rose and a confused mutter of +many voices out of which she began to catch sentences, such as: + +Lets fan it to the big house an git him! + +Theres too many crooks in this townlets run em out! + +What in hell did he come here for? + +Judge Littlefield is just as badhe cheated Taylor out of the +election! Thats right, answered another voice. Taylors our man! + +They are all wrought up over this, my dear, said the woman. For a +long time there has been an undercurrent of dissatisfaction over the +way they cheated Quinton Taylor out of the mayoralty. I dont think it +was a bit fair. And, she continued, there are other things. They +have found out that Carrington is behind a scheme to steal the water +rights from the townsomething he did to the board of directors of the +irrigation company, I believe. And he has had his councilmen pass laws +to widen some streets and open new ones. And the well-informed call it +a steal, too. Mr. Norton has stirred up a lot of sentiment against +Carrington and Danforth, and all the rest of them. Secretly, that is. +And there is that murder charge against Quinton Taylor, went on the +woman. That is preposterous! Taylor was the best friend Larry Harlan +ever had! + +But the girl turned her head, and her lips quivered, for the mention +of Taylor had brought back to her the poignant sense of loss that she +had felt when she had learned of the charge against Taylor. She bowed +her head and wept silently, the woman trying again to comfort her, +while outside the noise and tumult grew in volumethreatening +violence. + +By the time Marion Harlan had dropped into the chair in the room of +the house into which the woman had taken her, the crowd that had +collected in the street was packed and jammed against the buildings on +each side of it. + +Those who had come late demanded to be told what had happened; and +some men lifted Parsons to the back of his horse, and with their hands +on his legs, bracing him, Parsons repeated the story of what had +occurred. Moreyielding to the frenzy that had now taken possession of +his senses, he told of Carringtons plotting against the town; of the +mans determination to loot and steal everything he could get his +hands on. He told them of his own culpability; he assured them he had +been as guilty as Carrington and Danforthwho was a mere tool, though +as unscrupulous as Carrington. He gave them an account of Carringtons +stewardship of his own money; and he related the story of Carringtons +friendship with the governor, connecting Carringtons trip to the +capital with the stealing of the election from Taylor. + +It is the psychology of the mob that it responds in some measure to +the frenzy of the man who agitates it. So it was with the great crowd +that now swarmed the wide street of Dawes. Partisan feelingall +differences of opinion that in other times would have barred concerted +actionwas swept away by the fervent appeal Parsons made, and by his +complete and scathing revelation of the iniquitous scheme to rob the +town. + +A great sigh arose as Parsons finished and was drawn down, his hat +off, his hair ruffled, his eyes gleaming with the strength of the +terrible frenzy he was laboring under. The crowd muttered; voices rose +sharply; there was an impatient movement; a concerted stiffening of +bodies and a long pause, as of preparation. + +Aroused, seething with passion, with a vindictive desire for action, +swift and ruthless, the crowd waitedwaited for a leader. And while +the pause and the mutterings continued, the leader came. + +It was the big, grim-faced Bothwell, at the head of the Arrow outfit. +With his horse in a dead run, the other horses of the outfit crowding +him close, Bothwell brought his horse to a sliding halt at the edge of +the crowd. + +Bothwells eyes were ablaze with the light of battle; and he stood in +his stirrups, looming high above the heads of the men around him, and +shouted: + +Wheres my bossSquint Taylor? And before anyone could +answerWheres that damned coyote Carrington? Wheres Danforth? +Whats wrong here? + +It was Parsons who answered him. Parsons, again clambering into the +saddle from which he had spoken, now shrieking shrilly: + +Its Carringtons work! He abducted Marion Harlan, my niece. Hes a +scoundrel and a thief, and he is trying to ruin this town! + +There was a short silence as Parsons slid again to the ground, and +then the man growled profanely: + +Lets run the whole bunch out of town! Start somethin, Bothwell! + +Bothwell laughed, a booming bellow of grim mirth that stirred the +crowd to movement. Weve been startin somethin! This outfit is out +for a clean-up! Theres been too much sneakin an murderin; an too +many fake warrants flyin around, with a bunch like them Keats guys +sent out to kill innocent men. Damn their hides! Lets get emall of +em! + +He flung his horse around and leaped it between the other horses of +the Arrow outfit, sending it straight to the doors of the city hall. +Closing in behind him, the other members of the Arrow outfit followed; +and behind them the crowd, now able to center its passion upon +something definite, rushed forwarda yelling, muttering, turbulent +mass of men intent to destroy the things which the common conscience +loathes. + +It seemed a lashing sea of retribution to Danforth and Judge +Littlefield, who were in the mayors office, a little group of their +political adherents around them. At the first sign of a disturbance, +Danforth had attempted to gather his official forces with the +intention of preserving order. But only these few had responded, and +they, white-faced, feeling their utter impotence, were standing in the +room, terror-stricken, when Bothwell and the men of the Arrow outfit, +with the crowd yelling behind them, entered the door of the office. + + * * * * * + +The little, broken-nosed man had done well to leave the vicinity of +the big house before Taylor arrived there. For when Taylor emerged +from the front room, in which the light still burned, his soul was +still in the grip of a lust to slay. + +He was breathing fast when he emerged from the house, for what he saw +there had puzzled himthe guard lying on the floor and Marion goneand +he stood for an instant on the porch, scanning the clearing and the +woods around the house with blazing eyes, his guns in hand. + +The silence around the house was deep and solemn now, and over Taylor +stole a conviction that Carrington had sent Marion to Dawes in charge +of some of his men; having divined that he would come for her. But +Taylor did not act upon the conviction instantly. He ran to the +stable, stormed through itand the other buildings in the cluster +around the ranchhouse; and finding no trace of men or girl, he at last +leaped on Spotted Tail and sent him thundering over the trail toward +Dawes. + +When he arrived in town a swaying, shouting, shooting mob jammed the +streets. He brought his horse to a halt on the edge of the crowd that +packed the street in front of the city hall, and demanded to know what +was wrong. + +The man shouted at him: + +Hells to pay! Carrington abducted Marion Harlan, an that little +guyParsonsrescued her. An Parsons made a speech, tellin folks what +Carrington an Danforth an all the rest of the sneakin coyotes have +done, an were runnin the scum out of town! And then, before Taylor +could ask about the girl, the man raised his voice to a shrill yell: + +Its Squint Taylor, boys! Squint Taylor! Stand back an let ol +Squint take a hand in this here deal! + +There was a wild, concerted screech of joy. It rose like the shrieking +of a gale; it broke against the buildings that fringed the street; it +echoed and reechoed with terrific resonance back and forth over the +heads of the men in the crowd. It penetrated into the cozy room of a +private dwelling, where sat a girl who started at the sound and sat +erect, her face paling, her eyes, glowing with a light that made the +motherly looking woman say to her, softly: + +Ah, then you _do_ believe in him, my dear! + + * * * * * + +It was when the noise and the tumult had subsided that Taylor went to +her. For he had been told where he might find her by men who smiled +sympathetically at his back as he walked down the street toward the +private dwelling. + +She was at the door as soon as he, for she had been watching from one +of the front windows, and had seen him come toward the house. + +And when the motherly looking woman saw them in each others arms, the +moon and the light from within the house revealing them to her, and to +the men in the crowd who watched from the street, she smiled gently. +What the two said to each other will never be known, for their words +were drowned in the cheer that rose from hoarse-voiced men who knew +that words are sometimes futile and unnecessary. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVTRIUMPH AT LAST + + +A month later, Taylor walked to the front door of the Arrow ranchhouse +and stood on the threshold looking out over the great sweep of +green-brown plain that reached eastward to Dawes. + +A change had come over Taylor. His eyes had a gentler light in themas +though they had seen things that had taken the edge off his sterner +side; and there was an atmosphere about him that created the +impression that his thoughts were at this moment far from violence. + +Mr. Taylor! said a voice behind himfrom the front room. There had +been an undoubted accent on the Mr. And the voice was one that +Taylor knew well; the sound of it deepened the gentle gleam in his +eyes. + +Mrs. Taylor, he answered, imparting to the Mrs. exactly the +emphasis the voice had placed on the other. + +There was a laugh behind him, and then the voice again, slightly +reproachful: Oh, that sounds so _awfully_ formal, Squint! + +Well, he said, you started it. + +I like Squint better, said the voice. + +Im hoping you keep on liking Squint all the days of your life, he +returned. + +I was speaking of names, declared the voice. + +Doan yo let her fool yo, Mr. Squint! came another voice, fo she +think a heap mo of you than she think of yo name! + +Martha! said the first voice in laughing reproof, I vow I shall +send you away some day! + +And then there was a clumping step on the floor, and Marthas voice +reached the door as she went out of the house through the kitchen: + +Is goin to the bunkhouse to expostulate wif that lazy Bud +Hemmingway. He tole me this mawnin hes gwine feed them hawgsan he +aint done it! + +And then Mrs. Taylor appeared at the door and placed an arm around her +husbands neck, drawing his head over to her and kissing him. + +She looked much like the Marion Harlan who had left the Arrow on a +night about a month before, though there was a more eloquent light in +her eyes, and a tenderness had come over her that made her whole being +radiate. + +Dont you think you had better get ready to go to Dawes, dear? she +suggested. + +I like that better than Squint even, he grinned. + +For a long time they stood in the doorway very close together. And +then Mrs. Taylor looked up with grave eyes at her husband. + +Wont you please let me look at _all_ of fathers note to you, +Squint? she asked. + +That cant be done, he grinned at her. For, he added, that day +after I let you read part of it I burnt it. Its gonelike a lot of +other things that are not needed now! + +But what did it saythat part that you wouldnt let me read? she +insisted. + +It said, he quoted, I want you to marry her, Squint. And I have +done sohavent I? + +Was that _all_? she persisted. + +Id call that plenty! he laughed. + +Well, she sighed, I suppose that will have to be sufficient. But +get ready, dear; they will be waiting for you! She left him and went +into a room, from where she called back to him: It wont take me long +to dress. And then, after an interval: Where do you suppose Uncle +Elam went? + +He scowled out of the doorway; then turned and smiled. He didnt say. +And he lost no time saying farewell to Dawes, once he got his hands on +the money Carrington left. Taylors smile became a laugh, low and +full of amusement. + +Shortly Mrs. Taylor appeared, attired in a neat riding-habit, and +Taylor donned coat and hat, and they went arm in arm to the corral +gate, where their horses were standing, having been roped, saddled, +and bridled by the lazy Bud Hemmingway, who stood outside the +bunkhouse grinning at them. + +Well, good luck! Bud called after them as they rode toward Dawes. + +Lingering much on the way, and stopping at the Mullarky cabin, they +finally reached the edge of town and were met by Neil Norton, who +grinned widely when he greeted them. + +Norton waved a hand at Dawes. As in another time, Dawes was arrayed in +holiday attire, swathed in a riot of colorstarry bunting, flags, and +streamers, with hundreds of Japanese lanterns suspended festoonlike +across the streets. And now, as Taylor and the blushing, moist-eyed +woman at his side rode down the street, a band on a platform near the +station burst into music, its brazen-tongued instruments drowning the +sound of cheering. + +We got that from Lazette, grinned Norton. We had to have _some_ +noise! As I told you the other day, he went on, speaking loudly, so +that Taylor could hear him above the tumult, it is all fixed up. +Judge Littlefield stayed on the job here, because he promised to be +good. He hadnt really done anything, you know. And after we made +Danforth and the five councilmen resign that night, and saw them +aboard the east-bound the next morning, we made Littlefield wire the +governor about what had happened. Littlefield went to the capital +shortly afterward and told the governor some things that astonished +him. And the governor appointed you to fill Danforths unexpired term. +But, of course, that was only an easy way for the governor to +surrender. So everything is lovely. + +Norton paused, out of breath. + +And Taylor smiled at his wife. Yes, he said, as he took her arm, +this is a mighty good little old worldif you treat it right. + +And if you stay faithful, added the moist-eyed woman. + +And if you fall in love, supplemented Taylor. + +And when the people of a town want to honor you, added Norton +significantly. + +And then, arm in arm, followed by Norton, Taylor and his wife rode +forward, their horses close together, toward the great crowd of people +that jammed the street around the band-stand, their voices now raised +above the music that blared forth from the brazen instruments. + + + + +EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlaps list. + +TARZAN THE UNTAMED + +Tells of Tarzans return to the life of the ape-man in his search for +vengeance on those who took from him his wife and home. + +JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN + +Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right +to ape kingship. + +A PRINCESS OF MARS + +Forty-three million miles from the eartha succession of the weirdest +and most astounding adventures in fiction. John Carter, American, +finds himself on the planet Mars, battling for a beautiful woman, with +the Green Men of Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet high, mounted +on horses like dragons. + +THE GODS OF MARS + +Continuing John Carters adventures on the Planet Mars, in which he +does battle against the ferocious plant men, creatures whose mighty +tails swished their victims to instant death, and defies Issus, the +terrible Goddess of Death, whom all Mars worships and reveres. + +THE WARLORD OF MARS + +Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, Tars +Tarkas, Tardos Mors and others. There is a happy ending to the story +in the union of the Warlord, the title conferred upon John Carter, +with Dejah Thoris. + +THUVIA, MAID OF MARS + +The fourth volume of the series. The story centers around the +adventures of Carthoris, the son of John Carter and Thuvia, daughter +of a Martian Emperor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK. + + + + +ZANE GREYS NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlaps list. + +THE MAN OF THE FOREST THE DESERT OF WHEAT THE U. P. TRAIL WILDFIRE THE +BORDER LEGION THE RAINBOW TRAIL THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT RIDERS OF +THE PURPLE SAGE THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN +THE LONE STAR RANGER DESERT GOLD BETTY ZANE + +LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS + +The life story of Buffalo Bill by his sister Helen Cody Wetmore, +with Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey. + +ZANE GREYS BOOKS FOR BOYS + +KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE THE YOUNG LION HUNTER THE YOUNG FORESTER THE +YOUNG PITCHER THE SHORT STOP THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER +BASEBALL STORIES + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOODS STORIES OF ADVENTURE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlaps list. + +THE RIVERS END + +A story of the Royal Mounted Police. + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + +Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland. + +NOMADS OF THE NORTH + +The story of a bear-cub and a dog. + +KAZAN + +The tale of a quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky torn +between the call of the human and his wild mate. + +BAREE, SON OF KAZAN + +The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part he +played in the lives of a man and a woman. + +THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM + +The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his +battle with Captain Plum. + +THE DANGER TRAIL + +A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North. + +THE HUNTED WOMAN + +A tale of a great fight in the valley of gold for a woman. + +THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH + +The story of Fort o God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness is +blended with the courtly atmosphere of France. + +THE GRIZZLY KING + +The story of Thor, the big grizzly. + +ISOBEL + +A love story of the Far North. + +THE WOLF HUNTERS + +A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness. + +THE GOLD HUNTERS + +The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds. + +THE COURAGE OF MARGE ODOONE + +Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women. + +BACK TO GODS COUNTRY + +A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made from +this book. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +FLORENCE L. BARCLAYS NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlaps list. + +THE WHITE LADIES OF WORCESTER + +A novel of the 12th Century. The heroine, believing she had lost her +lover, enters a convent. He returns, and interesting developments +follow. + +THE UPAS TREE + +A love story of rare charm. It deals with a successful author and his +wife. + +THROUGH THE POSTERN GATE + +The story of a seven day courtship, in which the discrepancy in ages +vanished into insignificance before the convincing demonstration of +abiding love. + +THE ROSARY + +The story of a young artist who is reputed to love beauty above all +else in the world, but who, when blinded through an accident, gains +lifes greatest happiness. A rare story of the great passion of two +real people superbly capable of love, its sacrifices and its exceeding +reward. + +THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE + +The lovely young Lady Ingleby, recently widowed by the death of a +husband who never understood her, meets a fine, clean young chap who +is ignorant of her title and they fall deeply in love with each other. +When he learns her real identity a situation of singular power is +developed. + +THE BROKEN HALO + +The story of a young man whose religious belief was shattered in +childhood and restored to him by the little white lady, many years +older than himself, to whom he is passionately devoted. + +THE FOLLOWING OF THE STAR + +The story of a young missionary, who, about to start for Africa, +marries wealthy Diana Rivers, in order to help her fulfill the +conditions of her uncles will, and how they finally come to love each +other and are reunited after experiences that soften and purify. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +ETHEL M. DELLS NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlaps list. + +THE LAMP IN THE DESERT + +The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and tells of the +lamp of love that continues to shine through all sorts of tribulations +to final happiness. + +GREATHEART + +The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals a noble soul. + +THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE + +A hero who worked to win even when there was only a hundredth +chance. + +THE SWINDLER + +The story of a bad mans soul revealed by a womans faith. + +THE TIDAL WAVE + +Tales of love and of women who learned to know the true from the +false. + +THE SAFETY CURTAIN + +A very vivid love story of India. The volume also contains four other +long stories of equal interest. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +STORM COUNTRY BOOKS BY GRACE MILLER WHITE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlaps list. + +JUDY OF ROGUES HARBOR + +Judys untutored ideas of God, her love of wild things, her faith in +life are quite as inspiring as those of Tess. Her faith and sincerity +catch at your heart strings. This book has all of the mystery and +tense action of the other Storm Country books. + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY + +It was as Tess, beautiful, wild, impetuous, that Mary Pickford made +her reputation as a motion picture actress. How love acts upon a +temperament such as hersa temperament that makes a woman an angel or +an outcast, according to the character of the man she lovesis the +theme of the story. + +THE SECRET OF THE STORM COUNTRY + +The sequel to Tess of the Storm Country, with the same wild +background, with its half-gypsy life of the squatterstempestuous, +passionate, brooding. Tess learns the secret of her birth and finds +happiness and love through her boundless faith in life. + +FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING + +A haunting story with its scene laid near the country familiar to +readers of Tess of the Storm Country. + +ROSE O PARADISE + +Jinny Singleton, wild, lovely, lonely, but with a passionate +yearning for music, grows up in the house of Lafe Grandoken, a +crippled cobbler of the Storm Country. Her romance is full of power +and glory and tenderness. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +BOOTH TARKINGTONS NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlaps list. + +SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown. + +No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal +young people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent +of the time when the reader was Seventeen. + +PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant. + +This is a picture of a boys heart, full of the lovable, humorous, +tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a +finished, exquisite work. + +PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm. + +Like Penrod and Seventeen, this book contains some remarkable +phases of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile +prankishness that have ever been written. + +THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers. + +Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his +fathers plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a +fine girl turns Bibbs life from failure to success. + +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece. + +A story of love and politics,more especially a picture of a country +editors life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love +interest. + +THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. + +The Flirt, the younger of two sisters, breaks one girls engagement, +drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another +to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising +suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +KATHLEEN NORRIS STORIES + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlaps list + +SISTERS. Frontispiece by Frank Street. + +The California Redwoods furnish the background for this beautiful +story of sisterly devotion and sacrifice. + +POOR, DEAR, MARGARET KIRBY. + +Frontispiece by George Gibbs. + +A collection of delightful stories, including Bridging the Years and +The Tide-Marsh. This story is now shown in moving pictures. + +JOSSELYNS WIFE. Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. + +The story of a beautiful woman who fought a bitter fight for happiness +and love. + +MARTIE, THE UNCONQUERED. + +Illustrated by Charles E. Chambers. + +The triumph of a dauntless spirit over adverse conditions. + +THE HEART OF RACHAEL. + +Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers. + +An interesting story of divorce and the problems that come with a +second marriage. + +THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE. + +Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. + +A sympathetic portrayal of the quest of a normal girl, obscure and +lonely, for the happiness of life. + +SATURDAYS CHILD. Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes. + +Can a girl, born in rather sordid conditions, lift herself through +sheer determination to the better things for which her soul hungered? + +MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +A story of the big mother heart that beats in the background of every +girls life, and some dreams which came true. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ranchman, by Charles Alden +Seltzer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RANCHMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 37204-8.txt or 37204-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/0/37204/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one +owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and +you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ranchman + +Author: Charles Alden Seltzer + +Illustrator: P. V. E. Ivory + +Release Date: August 25, 2011 [EBook #37204] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RANCHMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src='images/illus-cvr.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i002' id='i002'></a> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" alt="CARRINGTON LAUGHED JEERINGLY. (Page 268)" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>CARRINGTON LAUGHED JEERINGLY. (Page 268)</span> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>THE</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.6em;font-weight:bold;'>RANCHMAN</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p>BY</p> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>AUTHOR OF</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>THE BOSS OF THE LAZY Y,</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>FIREBRAND TREVISON,</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>THE RANGE BOSS, ETC.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>FRONTISPIECE BY</span></p> +<p>P. V. E. IVORY</p> +</div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i003' id='i003'></a> +<img src='images/illus-emb.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>NEW YORK</span></p> +<p>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>PUBLISHERS</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Made in the United States of America</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Copyright</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>A. C. McClurg & Co.</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>1919</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Published September, 1919</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'><em>Copyrighted in Great Britain</em></span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>CONTENTS</span></p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary='table of contents'> +<tr><td style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>I</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Concerning Dawes</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chI'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>II</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Slick Duds</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chII'>14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>III</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Serpent Trail</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIII'>20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Hold-Up</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIV'>26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>V</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Unexpected</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chV'>36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Man Makes Plans</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVI'>51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Shadow of the Past</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVII'>59</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Concerning “Squint”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVIII'>66</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Man Lies</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIX'>75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>X</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Frame-Up</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chX'>86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“No Fun Fooling Her”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXI'>91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Lifting the Mask</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXII'>106</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Shadow of Trouble</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIII'>113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Face of a Fighter</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIV'>128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Gloom—and Plans</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXV'>142</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Man Becomes a Brute</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVI'>153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Wrong Ankle</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVII'>172</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Beast Again</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVIII'>186</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Ambush</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIX'>193</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Fight to a Finish</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXX'>200</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Man Faces Death</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXI'>212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Looking for Trouble</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXII'>218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A World-Old Longing</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIII'>225</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Death Warrant</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIV'>232</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Keats Looks for “Squint”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXV'>238</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXVI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Keats Finds “Squint”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXVI'>245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXVII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Besieged</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXVII'>254</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXXIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Fugitive</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXXIII'>259</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Captive</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIX'>264</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXX</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Parsons Has Human Instincts</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXX'>270</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXXI</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Rescue</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXXI'>277</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXXII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Taylor Becomes Riled</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXXII'>284</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXXIII</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Retribution</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXXIII'>290</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXXIV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Will of the Mob</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXXIV'>304</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXXV</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Triumph at Last</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXXV'>315</a></td></tr> +</table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<h1>THE RANCHMAN</h1> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span><a name='chI' id='chI'></a>CHAPTER I—CONCERNING DAWES</h2> +<p> +The air in the Pullman was hot and, despite the +mechanical contrivances built into the coach to +prevent such a contingency, the dust from the right-of-way +persisted in filtering through crevices. +</p> +<p> +Even the electric fans futilely combated the heat; their +droning hum bespoke terrific revolutions which did not +materially lessen the discomfort of the occupants of the +coach; and the dry, dead dust of the desert, the glare of +a white-hot sun, the continuing panorama of waste land, +rolling past the car windows, afforded not one cool vista +to assuage the torture of travel. +</p> +<p> +For hours after leaving Kansas City, several of the +passengers had diligently gazed out of the windows. But +when they had passed the vast grass plains and had +entered the desert, where their eyes met nothing but +endless stretches of feathery alkali dust, beds of dead +lava, and clumps of cacti with thorny spire and spatula +blade defiantly upthrust as though in mockery of all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> +life—the passengers drew the shades and settled down +in their seats to endure the discomfort of it all. +</p> +<p> +A <em>blasé</em> tourist forward reclined in one seat and rested +his legs on another. From under the peak of a cap pulled +well down over his eyes he smiled cynically at his fellow-passengers, +noting the various manifestations of their +discomfort. The tourist was a transcontinental traveler +of note and he had few expectations. It amused him to +watch those who had. +</p> +<p> +A girl of about twenty, seated midway in the coach +to the left of the tourist, had been an intent watcher of +the desert. With the covert eye of the tourist upon her +she stiffened, stared sharply out of the window, then +drew back, shuddering, a queer pallor on her face. +</p> +<p> +“She’s seen something unpleasant,” mused the tourist. +“A heap of bleached bones—which would be the +skeleton of a steer; or a rattlesnake—or most anything. +She’s got nerves.” +</p> +<p> +<em>One</em> passenger in the car had no nerves—of that the +tourist was convinced. The tourist had observed him +closely, and the tourist was a judge of men. The nerveless +one was a young man who sat in a rear seat staring +intently out into the inferno of heat and sand, apparently +absorbed in his thoughts and unaware of any physical +discomfort. +</p> +<p> +“Young—about twenty-seven or twenty-eight—maybe +thirty,” mused the tourist; “but an old-timer in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span> +this country. I wised up to him when he got aboard at +Kansas City. Been a miner in his time—or a cow-puncher. +I’d hate to cross him.” +</p> +<p> +Among the other passengers were two who attracted +the attention of the tourist. They occupied the seat in +front of the young man. +</p> +<p> +One of the two, who sat nearest the window, was not +much older than the young man occupying the seat behind +him. The tourist guessed his age to be around +thirty-five or thirty-six. He was big, almost massive, +and had lived well—as the slightly corpulent stomach +revealed. Despite that, however, he was in good physical +condition, for his cheeks glowed with good healthy color +under the blue-black sheen of his fresh-shaved beard; +there was a snapping twinkle in his black eyes, which +were penetrating and steady; and there was a quiet confidence +in his manner which told that he knew and appreciated +himself. He was handsome in a heavy, sensuous +fashion, and his coal-black hair, close-cropped and wavy, +gave him an appearance of virility and importance that +demanded a second look. The man seated beside him was +undersized and ordinary-looking, with straight, iron-gray +hair and a look of having taken orders all his life. +The tourist set his age at fifty-five. +</p> +<p> +The girl was of the type that the tourist admired. He +had seen her kind in the far corners of the world, on the +thronged streets of cosmopolitan cities, in isolated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> +sections of the world—the self-reliant, quietly confident +American girl whose straight-in-the-eye glance always +made a man feel impelled to respectfully remove his +hat. +</p> +<p> +She was not beautiful, but she was undeniably good-looking. +She was almost tall, and the ease and grace +of her movements sufficed to convey to the tourist some +conception of the symmetrical lines of her figure. If her +features had been more regular, the girl would have +been plain; but there was a slight uptilt to her nose that +hinted of piquancy, denied by the quiet, steady eyes. +</p> +<p> +A brown mass of hair, which she had twisted into +bulging coils and glistening waves, made the tourist wonder +over her taste in that feminine art. +</p> +<p> +“She knows what becomes her,” he decided. +</p> +<p> +He knew the two men seated in front of the young +man were traveling with her, for he had seen them together, +with the older man patting her shoulder affectionately. +But often she left them with their talk, which +did not seem to interest her, while she withdrew to a +distant seat to read or to gaze out of the window. +</p> +<p> +She had not seemed to notice either the man of colorless +personality or the young man who occupied the seat +behind her friends. If she had glanced at them at all +it was with that impersonal interest one feels in the +average traveler one meets anywhere. +</p> +<p> +But long ago—which, to be strictly accurate, was when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span> +he had entered the coach at Kansas City—Quinton Taylor +had been interested in her. He was content, though, +to conceal that interest, and not once when she chanced +to look toward him did she catch him looking at her. +</p> +<p> +Taylor knew he was no man to excite the interest of +women, not even when he looked his best. And he knew +that in his present raiment he did not look his best. He +was highly uncomfortable. +</p> +<p> +For one thing, the white, starched collar he wore irritated +him, choked him, reddening his face and bulging +his eyes. The starched shirt had a pernicious habit of +tightly sticking to him, the seams chafing his skin. +</p> +<p> +The ready-made suit he had bought at Kansas City +was too small, and he could feel his shoulders bulging +through the arms of the coat, while the trousers—at the +hips and the knees—were stretched until he feared the +cloth would not stand the strain. +</p> +<p> +The shoes were tight, and the derby hat—he glowered +humorously at it in the rack above his head and gazed +longingly at the suitcase at his feet, into which he had +crammed the clothing he had discarded and which he +had replaced at the suggestion of his banker in Kansas +City. Cowboy rigging was not uncommon to Kansas +City, the banker had told him, but still—well, if a man +was wealthy, and wished to make an impression, it might +be wise to make the change. +</p> +<p> +Not in years had Taylor worn civilized clothing, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span> +he was fully determined that before reaching his home +town he would resume the clothing to which he was +accustomed—and throw the new duds out of a window. +He reddened over an imaginary picture of himself descending +from the train in his newly acquired rigging to +endure the humorous comments of his friends. Old Ben +Mullarky, for instance, would think he had gone loco—and +would tell him so. Yes, the new clothes were +doomed; some ragged overland specimen of the genus +“hobo” would probably find them or, if not, they would +clutter up the right-of-way as the sad memento of a +mistake he had made during a fit of momentary weakness. +</p> +<p> +As a matter of fact the girl had noticed Taylor. A +girl will notice men, unconsciously. Sitting at her window +even now, she was thinking of him. +</p> +<p> +She was not aware that she had studied him, or that +she had even glanced at him. But despite her lack of +interest in him she had a picture of him in mind, and +her thoughts dwelt upon him. +</p> +<p> +She, too, had been aware that Taylor’s clothes did +not fit him. She had noticed the bulging shoulders, the +tight trousers, the shoes, squeaking with newness, when +once he had passed through the car to go out upon the +platform. She had noticed him screwing his neck around +in the collar; she had seen him hunch his shoulders intolerantly; +she had seen that the trousers were too short; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span> +that he looked like an awkward farmer or homesteader +abroad on a pleasure trip, and decidedly uncomfortable in +the unaccustomed attire. +</p> +<p> +She had giggled to herself, then. For Taylor did +make a ridiculous figure. But later—when he had reentered +the car and she had looked fairly, though swiftly, +at him as he advanced down the aisle—she had seen +something about him that had impressed her. And that +was what she was thinking about now. It was his face, +she believed. It was red with self-consciousness and +embarrassment, but she had seen and noted the strength +of it—the lean, muscular jaw, the square, projecting +chin, the firm, well-controlled mouth; the steady, steel-blue +eyes, the broad forehead. It had seemed to her that +he was humorously aware of the clothes, but that he was +grimly determined to brazen the thing out. +</p> +<p> +Her mental picture now gave her the entire view of +Taylor as he had come toward her. And she could see +him in a different environment, in cowboy regalia, on a +horse, perfectly at ease. He made a heroic figure. So +real was the picture that she caught herself saying: +“Clothes <em>do</em> make the man!” And then she smiled at +her enthusiasm and looked out of the window. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had been thinking of her with the natural +curiosity of the man who knows he has no chance and +is not looking for one. But she had impressed him as +resembling someone with whom he had been well acquainted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +For an hour he puzzled his brain in an +endeavor to associate hers with some face of his recollection, +but elusive memory resisted his demands on it +with the result that he gave it up and leaned back as +restfully as he could with the consciousness of the physical +torture he was undergoing. +</p> +<p> +And then he heard the younger of the two men in +front of him speak to the other: +</p> +<p> +“We’ll make things hum in Dawes, once we get hold +of the reins.” +</p> +<p> +“But there will be obstacles, Carrington.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure! Obstacles! Of course. That will make the +thing all the more enjoyable.” +</p> +<p> +There was a ring in Carrington’s voice that struck a +chord of sudden antagonism in Taylor, a note of cunning +that acted upon Taylor instantly, as though the man +had twanged discord somewhere in his nature. +</p> +<p> +Dawes was Taylor’s home; he had extensive and varied +interests there; he had been largely responsible for +Dawes’s growth and development; he had fought for +the town and the interests of the town’s citizens against +the aggressions of the railroad company and a grasping +land company that had succeeded in clouding the titles +to every foot of land owned by Dawes’s citizens—his +own included. +</p> +<p> +And he had heard rumors of outside interests that +were trying to gain a foothold in Dawes. He had paid +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> +little attention to these rumors, for he knew that capital +was always trying to drive wedges that would admit it to +the golden opportunities afforded by new towns, and +he had ascribed the rumors to idle gossip, being aware +that such things are talked of by irresponsibles. +</p> +<p> +But the words, “Get hold of the reins,” had a sound +of craft and plotting. And there was something in Carrington’s +manner and appearance that suggested guile +and smooth cunning. Seething with interest, Taylor +closed his eyes and leaned his head back upon the cushion +behind him, simulating sleep. +</p> +<p> +He felt Carrington turn; he could feel the man’s eyes +on him, and he knew that Carrington was speculating +over him. +</p> +<p> +He heard the other man whisper, though he could not +catch the words. However, he heard Carrington’s +answer: +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be uneasy—I’m not ‘spilling’ anything. <em>He</em> +wouldn’t know the difference if I did. A homesteader +hitting town for the first time in a year, probably. Did +you notice him? Lord, what an outfit!” +</p> +<p> +He laughed discordantly, resuming in a whisper which +carried to Taylor: +</p> +<p> +“As I was saying, we’ll make things hum. The good +folks in Dawes don’t know it, but we’ve been framing +them for quite a spell—been feeding them Danforth. +You don’t know Danforth, eh? He’s quite a hit with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +these rubes. Knows how to smear the soft stuff over +them. He’s what we call a ‘mixer’ back in Chicago. +Been in Dawes for about a year, working in the dark. +Been going strong during the past few months. Running +for mayor now—election is today. It’ll be over by the +time we get there. He’ll win, of course; he wired me it +was a cinch. Cost a lot, though, but it’s worth it. We’ll +own Dawes before we get through!” +</p> +<p> +It was with an effort that Taylor kept his eyes closed. +He heard nothing further, for the man’s voice had +dropped lower and Taylor could not hear it above the +roar of the train. +</p> +<p> +Still, he had heard enough to convince him that Carrington +had designs on the future welfare of Dawes, +and his muscles swelled until the tight-fitting coat was +in dire danger of bursting. +</p> +<p> +Danforth he knew slightly. He had always disliked +and distrusted the man. He remembered Danforth’s public +<em>début</em> to the people of Dawes. It had been on the +occasion of Dawes’s first anniversary and some public-spirited +citizens had decided upon a celebration. They +had selected Danforth as the speaker of the day because +of his eloquence—for Danforth had seized every opportunity +to publicly air his vigorous voice, and Taylor had +been compelled to acknowledge that Danforth was a +forceful and able speaker. +</p> +<p> +Thereafter, Danforth’s voice often found the public +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +ear. He was a lawyer, and the sign he had erected over +the front of the frame building adjoining the courthouse +was as magnificent as Danforth was eloquent. +</p> +<p> +But though Taylor had distrusted Danforth, he had +found no evidence—until now—that the lawyer intended +to betray his fellow-citizens. Before leaving +Dawes the week before he had heard some talk, linking +Danforth’s name with politics, but he had discredited the +talk. His own selection had been Neil Norton, and he had +asked his friends to consider Norton. +</p> +<p> +Taylor listened intently, with the hope of hearing more +of the conversation being carried on between the two +men in front of him. But he heard no more on the subject +broached by Carrington. Later, however, his eyes +still closed, still pretending to be asleep, he saw through +veiled eyelids the girl rise from her seat and come toward +the two men in front of him. +</p> +<p> +For the first time he got a clear, full view of her face +and a deep, disturbing emotion thrilled him. For now, +looking fairly at her, he was more than ever convinced +that he had seen her before, or that her resemblance to +someone he had known was more startling than he had +thought. +</p> +<p> +Then he heard Carrington speak to her. +</p> +<p> +“Getting tired, Miss Harlan?” said Carrington. +“Well, it will soon be ended, now. One more night on +the train—and then Dawes.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +</p> +<p> +The older man laughed, and touched the girl’s arm +playfully. “You don’t mind it, do you, Marion?” +</p> +<p> +The older man said more, but Taylor did not hear him. +For at his mention of the girl’s given name, so soon after +Carrington’s pronouncement of “Harlan,” Taylor’s eyes +popped open, and he sat erect, staring straight at the girl. +</p> +<p> +Whether her gaze had been drawn by his, or whether +her woman’s curiosity had moved her to look at him, +Taylor never knew. But she met his wide gaze fairly, +and returned his stare with one equally wide. Only, he +was certain, there was a glint of mocking accusation in +her eyes—to remind him, he supposed, that she had +caught him eavesdropping. +</p> +<p> +And then she smiled, looking at Carrington. +</p> +<p> +“One is recompensed for the inconveniences of travel +by the interesting characters one chances to meet.” +</p> +<p> +And she found opportunity, with Carrington looking +full at her, to throw a swift, significant glance at Taylor. +</p> +<p> +Taylor flushed scarlet. Not, however, because of any +embarrassment he felt over her words, but because at +that instant was borne overwhelmingly upon him the +knowledge that the girl, and the man, Carrington, who +accompanied her—even the older man—were persons +with whom Fate had insisted that he play—or fight. +They were to choose. And that they had chosen to fight +was apparent by the girl’s glance, and by Carrington’s +words, “We’ll own Dawes before we get through.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +</p> +<p> +Taylor got up and went to the smoking-room, where +he sat for a long time, staring out of the window, his +eyes on the vast sea of sagebrush that stretched before +him, his mental vision fixed on an earlier day and upon +a tragedy that was linked with the three persons in the +coach—who seemed desirous of antagonizing him. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span><a name='chII' id='chII'></a>CHAPTER II—SLICK DUDS</h2> +<p> +After a time Taylor’s lips wreathed into a smile. +He searched in his pockets—he had transferred +all his effects from the clothing in the suitcase to his +present uncomfortable raiment—and produced a long, +faded envelope in danger of imminent disintegration. +</p> +<p> +The smile faded from his lips as he drew out the contents +of the envelope, and a certain grim pity filled his +eyes. He read: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +<span class='sc'>Squint</span>: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +That rock falling on me has fixed me. There is no use in +me trying to fool myself. I’m going out. There’s things a +man can’t say, even to a friend like you. So I’m writing this. +You won’t read it until after I’m gone, and then you can’t tell +me what you think of me for shoving this responsibility on +you. But you’ll accept, I know; you’ll do it for me, won’t +you? +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +I’ve had a lot of trouble—family trouble. It wouldn’t +interest you. But it made me come West. Maybe I shouldn’t +have come. I don’t know; but it seemed best. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +You’ve been a mighty persevering friend, and I know you +from the ground up. You never inquired about my past, but +I know you’ve wondered. Once I mentioned my daughter, +and I saw you look sharp at me. Yes, there is a daughter. +Her name is Marion. There was a wife and her brother, +Elam Parsons. But only Marion counts. The others were +too selfish and sneaking. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +You won’t be interested in that. But I want Marion +taken care of. She was fifteen when I saw her last. She +looked just like me; thank God for that! She won’t have any +of the characteristics of the others! +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Squint, I want you to take care of her. You’ll find her in +Westwood, Illinois. You and me have talked of selling the +mine. Sell it; take my share and for it give Marion a half-interest +in your ranch, the Arrow. If there is any left, put it +in land in Dawes—that town is going to boom. Guard it for +her, and marry her, Squint; she’ll make you a good wife. +Tell her I want her to marry you; she’ll do it, for she always +liked her “dad.” +</p> +<p> +There was more, but Taylor read no further. He +stuffed the envelope into a pocket and sat looking out of +the window, regarding morosely the featureless landscape. +After a time he grinned saturninely: +</p> +<p> +“Looks to me like a long chance, Larry,” he mused. +“Considered as a marrying proposition she don’t seem +to be enthusiastic over me. Now what in thunder is she +doing out here, and why is that man Carrington with +her—and where did she pick him up?” +</p> +<p> +There came no answer to these questions. +</p> +<p> +Reluctant, after the girl’s mocking smile, to seem to +intrude, Taylor sat in the smoking-compartment during +the long afternoon, until the dusk began to descend—until +through the curtains of the compartment he caught +a glimpse of the girl and her companions returning from +the dining-car. Then, after what he considered a decent +interval, he emerged from the compartment, went to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +the diner, ate heartily, and returned to the smoking-room. +</p> +<p> +He had met Larry Harlan about three years before. +Harlan had appeared at the Arrow one morning, looking +for a job. Taylor had hired him, not because he needed +men, but because he thought Harlan needed work. A +friendship had developed, and when one day Harlan had +told Taylor about a mine he had discovered in the Sangre +de Christo Mountains, some miles southwestward, offering +Taylor a half-interest if the latter would help him +get at the gold, Taylor had agreed. +</p> +<p> +They had found the mine, worked it, and had taken +considerable gold out of it, when one day a huge rock +had fallen on Harlan. Taylor had done what he could, +rigging up a drag with which to take Harlan to town and +a doctor, but Harlan had died before town could be +reached. +</p> +<p> +That had been the extent of Taylor’s friendship for +the man. But he had followed Harlan’s directions. +</p> +<p> +Sitting in the smoking-compartment, he again drew out +Harlan’s note to him and read further: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Marion will have considerable money, and I don’t want +no sneak to get hold of it—like the sneak that got hold of +the money my wife had, that I saved. There’s a lot of them +around. If Marion is going to fall in love with one of that +kind, I’d rather she wouldn’t get what I leave—the man +would get it away from her. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Use your own judgment, and I’ll be satisfied. +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span></div> +<p> +It was not difficult for Taylor to divine what had happened +to Harlan, nor was it difficult to understand that +the man’s distrust of other men amounted to an obsession. +However, Taylor had no choice but to assume the +trust and no course but to obey Harlan’s wishes in the +matter. +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s trip eastward to Kansas City had been for the +purpose of attending to his own financial interests, and +incidentally to conclude the deal for the sale of the mine. +He had deposited the money in his own name, but he +intended—or had intended—after returning to the +Arrow to make arrangements for his absence, to go to +Westwood to find Marion Harlan. The presence of the +girl on the train and the certain conviction that she was +bound for Dawes made the trip to Westwood unnecessary. +</p> +<p> +For Taylor had no doubt that the girl was the daughter +of Larry Harlan. That troublesome resemblance of hers +to someone of his acquaintance bothered him no longer, +for the girl was the living image of Larry Harlan. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had not anticipated the coming of Carrington +into his scheme of things. For the first time since Larry +Harlan’s letter had come into his possession he realized +that deep in his heart was a fugitive desire for the coming +of the girl to the Arrow. He had liked Larry Harlan, +and he had drawn mental pictures of what the daughter +would be like; and, though she was not exactly as he had +pictured her, she was near enough to the ideal he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +visualized. He wanted, now more than ever, to faithfully +fulfil his obligation to Larry Harlan. +</p> +<p> +The presence of Carrington on the train, coupled with +the inference that Carrington was a close friend of the +girl’s, irritated Taylor. For at the first glance he had +felt a subtle antagonism for the man. Yet he was more +disturbed over the mockery in the girl’s eyes when she +had looked directly at him when she had caught him +listening to her talk with Carrington and the older man. +</p> +<p> +Still, Taylor was not the type of man who permits the +imminence of discord to disturb his mental equanimity, +and he grinned into the growing darkness of the plains +with a grimly humorous twist to his lips that promised +interesting developments should Carrington oppose him. +</p> +<p> +When he again looked out of the aperture in the curtains +screening the smoking-compartment from the aisle +he saw the porter pass, carrying bedclothing. Later he +saw the porter returning, smilingly inspecting a bill. +After an interval the porter stuck his head through the +curtains and surveyed him with a flashing grin: +</p> +<p> +“Is you ready to retiah, boss?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +A quarter of an hour later Taylor was alone in his berth, +gazing at his reflection in the glass while he undressed. +</p> +<p> +“You wouldn’t have the nerve to think she is interested +in you, would you—you homely son-of-a-gun?” +he queried of his reflection. “Why, no, she ain’t, of +course,” he added; “no woman could be interested in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +you. You’ve been all day looking like a half-baked dude—and +no woman is interested in dudes!” +</p> +<p> +Carefully removing the contents of the several pockets +of the despised wearing apparel in which he had suffered +for many days, he got into his nightclothes and rang +for the porter. When the latter appeared with his huge +grin, Taylor gave him the offensive clothing, bundled +together to form a large ball. +</p> +<p> +“George,” he said seriously, almost solemnly, “I’m +tired of being a dude. Some day I may decide to be a +dude; but not now. Take these duds and save them +until I ask for them. If you offer them to me before I +ask for them, I’ll perforate you sure as hell!” +</p> +<p> +He produced a big Colt pistol from somewhere, and +as the weapon glinted in the light the porter’s eyes bulged +and he backed away, gingerly holding the bundle of +clothing. +</p> +<p> +“Yassir, boss—yassir! I shuah won’t mention it till +you does, boss!” +</p> +<p> +When the porter had gone, Taylor grinned into the +glass. +</p> +<p> +“I sure have felt just what I looked,” he said. +</p> +<p> +Then he got into his berth and dreamed all night of a +girl whose mocking eyes seemed to say: +</p> +<p> +“Well, do you think you have profited by listening?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, sure,” he retorted, in his dreams; “I’ve seen +you, ain’t I?” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span><a name='chIII' id='chIII'></a>CHAPTER III—THE SERPENT TRAIL</h2> +<p> +Marion Harlan did not dream of Quinton +Taylor, though her last waking thought was of +him, and when she opened her eyes in the morning it was +to see him as he had sat in the seat behind Carrington and +her uncle, his eyes wide with interest, or astonishment—or +some emotion that she could not define—looking +directly at her. +</p> +<p> +She had been certain then, and still was certain that +he had been feigning sleep, that he had been listening to +the talk carried on between her uncle and Carrington. +</p> +<p> +Why had he listened? +</p> +<p> +That interrogation absorbed her thoughts as she +dressed. +</p> +<p> +She had not meant to be interested in him, for she had, +in her first glance at him, mentally decided that he was +no more interesting than many another ill-dressed and +uncouth westerner whom she had seen on the journey +toward Dawes. +</p> +<p> +To be sure, she had seen signs of strength in him, +mental and physical, but that had been when she looked at +him coming toward her down the aisle. But even then +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +he had not interested her; her interest began when she +noted his interest in the conversation of her traveling +companions. And then she had noticed several things +about him that had escaped her in other glances at him. +</p> +<p> +For one thing, despite the astonishment in his eyes, +she had observed the cold keenness of them, the odd squint +at the corners, where little wrinkles, splaying outward, +indicated either deliberate impudence or concealed mirth. +She was rather inclined to believe it the latter, though she +would not have been surprised to discover the wrinkles +to mean the former. +</p> +<p> +And then she had noted his mouth; his lips had been +straight and firm; she had been sure they were set resolutely +when she had surprised him looking at her. That +had seemed to indicate that he had taken more than a +passing interest in what he had overheard. +</p> +<p> +She speculated long over the incident, finally deciding +that much would depend upon what he had overheard. +There was only one way to determine that, and at breakfast +in the dining-car she interrogated Carrington. +</p> +<p> +“Of course, you and uncle are going to Dawes on business, +and I am merely tagging along to see if I can find +any trace of my father. But have you any business +secrets that might interest an eavesdropper? On a train, +for instance—a train going toward Dawes?” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” Carrington’s eyes flashed as +he leaned toward her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +</p> +<p> +“Have you and uncle talked business within hearing +distance of a stranger?” +</p> +<p> +Carrington’s face flushed; he exchanged a swift glance +with the other man. +</p> +<p> +“You mean that clodhopper with the tight-fitting hand-me-down +in the seat behind us—yesterday? He was +asleep!” +</p> +<p> +“Then you did talk business—business secrets,” smiled +the girl. “I thought really big men commonly concealed +their business secrets from the eager ears of outsiders.” +</p> +<p> +She laughed aloud at Carrington’s scowl, and then +went on: +</p> +<p> +“I don’t think the clodhopper was asleep. In fact, I +rather think he was very wide awake. I wouldn’t say +for certain, but I <em>think</em> he was awake. You see, when +I came back to talk with you he was sitting very straight, +and his eyes were wide open. +</p> +<p> +“And I shall tell you something else,” she went on. +“During all the time he sat behind you, when you were +talking, I watched him, he was pretending to sleep, for +at times he opened his eyes and looked at you, and I am +sure he was not thinking pleasant thoughts. And I don’t +believe he is a clodhopper. I think he amounts to something; +and if you will look well at him you will see, too. +When he was listening to you there was a look in his eyes +that made me think of fighting.” And then, after a +momentary pause, she added slowly, “there isn’t anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +wrong about the business you are going to transact out +here—is there?” +</p> +<p> +“Wrong?” he laughed. “Oh, no! Business is business.” +He leaned forward and gazed deliberately into +her eyes, his own glowing significantly. “You don’t +think, with me holding your good opinion—and always +hoping to better it—that I would do anything to destroy +it, Marion?” +</p> +<p> +The girl’s cheeks were suffused with faint color. +</p> +<p> +“You are assuming again, Mr. James J. Carrington. +I don’t care for your subtle speeches. I like you best when +you talk frankly; but I am not sure that I shall ever like +you enough to marry you.” +</p> +<p> +She smiled at the scowl in his eyes, then looked speculatively +at him. It should have been apparent to him +that she had spoken the truth regarding her feeling for +him. +</p> +<p> +The uncle knew she had spoken the truth, for she left +them presently, and the car door had hardly closed behind +her when Carrington said, smiling grimly: +</p> +<p> +“She’s a thoroughbred, Parsons. That’s why I like +her. I’ll have her, too!” +</p> +<p> +“Careful,” grinned the other, smoothly. “If she ever +discovers what a brute you are—” He made a gesture +of finality. +</p> +<p> +“Brute! Bah! Parsons, you make me sick! I’ll take +her when I want her! Why do you suppose I told her that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +fairy tale about her father having been seen in this locality? +To get her out here with me, of course—where +there isn’t a hell of a lot of law, and a man’s will is the +only thing that governs him. She won’t have me, eh? +Well, we’ll see!” +</p> +<p> +Parsons smirked at the other. “Then you lied about +Lawrence Harlan having been seen in this country?” +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” admitted Carrington. “Why not?” +</p> +<p> +Parsons looked leeringly at Carrington. “Suppose I +should tell her?” +</p> +<p> +Carrington glared at the older man. “You won’t,” he +declared. “In the first place, you don’t love her as an +uncle should because she looks like Larry Harlan—and +you hated Larry. Suppose I should tell her that you were +the cause of the trouble between her parents; that you +framed up on her mother, to get her to leave Larry? +Why, you damned, two-faced gopher, she’d wither you!” +</p> +<p> +He grinned at the other and got up, turning, when he +reached his feet, to see Quinton Taylor, standing beside +a chair at the next table, just ready to sit down, but +delaying to hear the remainder of the extraordinary conversation +carried on between the two men. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had donned the garments he had discarded in +Kansas City. A blue woolen shirt, open at the throat; +corduroy trousers, the bottoms stuffed into the soft tops +of high-heeled boots; a well-filled cartridge-belt, sagging +at the right hip with the weight of a heavy pistol—and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> +a broad-brimmed felt hat, which a smiling waiter +held for him—completed his attire. +</p> +<p> +Freshly shaved, his face glowed with the color that +betokens perfect health; and just now his eyes were also +glowing—but with frank disgust and dislike. +</p> +<p> +Carrington flushed darkly and stepped close to Taylor. +Carrington’s chin was thrust out belligerently; his eyes +fairly danced with a rage that he could hardly restrain. +</p> +<p> +“Listening again, eh?” he said hoarsely. “You had +your ears trained on us yesterday, in the Pullman, and +now you are at it again. I’ve a notion to knock your +damned head off!” +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s eyelids flickered once, the little wrinkles at the +corners of his eyes deepening a trifle. But his gaze was +steady, and the blue of his eyes grew a trifle more steely. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve got a bigger notion not to, Mr. Man,” he +grinned. “You run a whole lot to talk.” +</p> +<p> +He sat down, twisted around in the chair and faced +the table, casting a humorous eye at the black waiter, +and ignoring Carrington. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll want a passable breakfast this morning, George,” +he said; “I’m powerful hungry.” +</p> +<p> +He did not turn when Carrington went out, followed +by Parsons. +</p> +<p> +The waiter hovered near him, grinning widely. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon you-all ain’t none scary, boss!” he said, +admiringly. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span><a name='chIV' id='chIV'></a>CHAPTER IV—THE HOLD-UP</h2> +<p> +After breakfast—leaving a widely grinning waiter, +who watched him admiringly—Taylor reentered +the Pullman. +</p> +<p> +Stretching out in the upholstered seat, Taylor watched +the flying landscape. But his thoughts were upon the +two men he had overheard talking about the girl in the +diner. Taylor made a grimace of disgust at the great +world through which the train was speeding; and his +feline grin when his thoughts dwelt definitely upon Carrington, +indicated that the genial waiter had not erred +greatly in saying Taylor was not “scary.” +</p> +<p> +Upon entering, Taylor had flashed a rapid glance into +the car. He had seen Carrington and Parsons sitting together +in one of the seats and, farther down, the girl, +leaning back, was looking out of the window. Her back +was toward Taylor. She had not seen him enter the +car—and he was certain she had not seen him leave it +to go to the diner. He had thought—as he had glanced +at her as he went into the smoking compartment—that, +despite the girl’s seemingly affectionate manner toward +Parsons, and her cordial treatment of the big man, her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +manner indicated the presence of a certain restraint. And +as he looked toward her, he wondered if Parsons or the +big man had told her anything of the conversation in the +diner in which he himself figured. +</p> +<p> +And now, looking out of the window, he decided that +even if the men had told her, she would not betray her +knowledge to him—unless it were to give him another +scornful glance—the kind she threw at him when she +saw him as he sat behind the two men when they had +been talking of Dawes. Taylor reddened and gritted +his teeth impotently; for he knew that if the two men +had told her anything, they would have informed her, +merely, that they had again caught him listening to them. +And for that double offense, Taylor knew there would be +no pardon from her. +</p> +<p> +Half an hour later, while still thinking of the girl and +the men, Taylor felt the train slowing down. Peering as +far ahead as he could by pressing his face against the +glass of the window, Taylor saw the train was entering a +big cut between some hills. It was a wild section, with +a heavy growth of timber skirting the hills—on Taylor’s +side of the train—and running at a sharp angle toward +the right-of-way came a small river. +</p> +<p> +Taylor recognized the place as Toban’s Siding. He +did not know how the spot had come by its name; nor +did he know much about it except that there was a spur +of track and a water-tank. And when the train began +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +to slow down he supposed the engineer had decided to +stop to take on water. He found himself wondering, +though, why that should be necessary, for he was certain +the train had stopped for water a few miles back, while +he had been in the dining-car. +</p> +<p> +The train was already late, and Taylor grinned as he +settled farther back in the seat and drew a sigh of resignation. +There was no accounting for the whims of an +engineer, he supposed. +</p> +<p> +He felt the train come to a jerking stop; and then fell +a silence. An instant later the silence was broken by two +sharp reports, a distinct interval between them. Taylor +sat erect, the smile leaving his face, and his lips setting +grimly as the word “Hold-up” came from between them. +</p> +<p> +Marion Harlan also heard the two reports. Stories of +train robberies—recollections of travelers’ tales recurred +in her brain as she sat, for the first tense instant following +the reports, listening for other sounds. Her face grew +a little pale, and a tremor ran over her; but she did not +feel a bit like screaming—though in all the stories she had +ever read, women always yielded to the hysteria of that +moment in which a train-robber makes his presence known. +</p> +<p> +She was not frightened, though she was just a trifle +nervous, and more than a trifle curious. So she pressed +her cheek against the window-glass and looked forward. +</p> +<p> +What she saw caused her to draw back again, her curiosity +satisfied. For on the side of the cut near the engine, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +she had seen a man with a rifle—a masked man, tall and +rough-looking—and it seemed to her that the weapon +in his hands was menacing someone in the engine-cab. +</p> +<p> +She stiffened, looking quickly around the car. None +of the passengers had moved. Carrington and Parsons +were still sitting together in the seat. They were sitting +erect, though, and she saw they, too, were curious. More, +she saw that both men were pale, and that Carrington, the +instant she turned, became active—bending over, apparently +trying to hide something under a seat. That movement +on Carrington’s part was convincing, and the girl +drew a deep breath. +</p> +<p> +While she was debating the wisdom of permitting her +curiosity to drive her to the door nearest her to determine +what had happened, the door burst open and a +masked man appeared in the opening! +</p> +<p> +While she stared at him, he uttered the short, terse +command: +</p> +<p> +“Hands up!” +</p> +<p> +She supposed that meant her, as well as the men in the +car, and she complied, though with a resentful glare at +the mask. +</p> +<p> +Daringly she turned her head and glanced back. Carrington +had his hands up, too; and Parsons—and the +tourist, and the other man. She did not see Taylor—though +she wondered, on the instant, if he, too, would +obey the train-robber’s command. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +</p> +<p> +She decided he would—any other course would have +been foolhardy; though she could not help remembering +that queer gleam in Taylor’s eyes. That gleam, it had +seemed to her, was a reflection of—not foolhardiness, +but of sheer courage. +</p> +<p> +However, she had little time to speculate. The masked +man advanced, a heavy gun in his right hand, its muzzle +moving from side to side, menacing them all. +</p> +<p> +He halted when he had advanced to within a step of the +girl. +</p> +<p> +“You guys set tight!” he ordered gruffly—in the manner +of the train-robber of romance. “If you go to lettin’ +down your sky-hooks one little quiver, I bore you so fast +an’ plenty that you’ll think you’re a colander!” Then +he turned the mask toward the girl; she could feel his +eyes burning through it. +</p> +<p> +“Shell out, lady!” he commanded. +</p> +<p> +She stared straight back at the eye-slits in the mask, +defiance glinting her own eyes. +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t any money—or anything of value—to +give you,” she returned. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve got a pocketbook there—in your hand!” +he said. “Fork it over!” He removed his hat, held it +in his left hand, and extended it toward her. “Toss it +in there!” +</p> +<p> +Hesitatingly, she obeyed, though not without a vindictive +satisfaction in knowing that he would find little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +in the purse to compensate him for his trouble. She +could see his eyes gleam greedily as he still looked at her. +</p> +<p> +“Now that chain an’ locket you’ve got around your +neck!” he ordered. “Quick!” he added, savagely, as +she stiffened and glared at him. +</p> +<p> +She did as she was bidden, though; for she had no +doubt he would kill her—at least his manner indicated +he would. And so she removed it, held it lingering in her +hand for an instant, and then tossed it into the hat. She +gulped as she did so, for the trinket had been given to her +by her father before he left home to go on that pilgrimage +from which he had never returned. +</p> +<p> +“That’s all, eh?” snarled the man. “Well, I ain’t +swallowin’ that! I’m goin’ to search you!” +</p> +<p> +She believed she must have screamed at that. She +knew she stood up, prepared to fight him if he attempted +to carry out his threat; and once on her feet she looked +backward. +</p> +<p> +Neither Carrington nor Parsons had moved—they +were palely silent, watching, not offering to interfere. +As for that, she knew that any sign of interference on +the part of her friends would result in their instant death. +But she did not know what they <em>should</em> do! Something +must be done, for she could not permit the indignity the +man threatened! +</p> +<p> +Still looking backward, she saw Taylor standing at +the end of the car—where the partition of the smoking-compartment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +extended outward. He held a gun in each +hand. He had heard her scream, and on his face as the +girl turned toward him, she saw a mirthless grin that +made her shiver. She believed it must have been her gasp +that caused the train-robber to look swiftly at Taylor. +</p> +<p> +Whatever had caused the man to look toward the rear +of the car, he saw Taylor; and the girl saw him stiffen +as his pistol roared in her ears. Taylor’s pistols crashed +at the same instant—twice—the reports almost together. +Afterward she could not have told what surprised her +the most—seeing the man at her side drop his pistol and +lurch limply against a corner of the seat opposite her, +and from there slide gently to the floor, grunting; or the +spectacle of Taylor, arrayed in cowboy garb, emerging +from the door of the smoking-compartment, the mirthless +smile on his face, and his guns—he had used both—blazing +forth death to the man who had threatened her. +</p> +<p> +Nor could she—afterward—have related what followed +the sudden termination of the incident in the car. +Salient memories stood out—the vivid and tragic recollection +of chief incidents that occurred immediately; but +she could not have even guessed how they happened. +</p> +<p> +She saw Taylor as he stood for an instant looking down +at the man after he came running forward to where the +other lay; and she saw Taylor leap for the front door of +the car, vanish through it, and slam it after him. +</p> +<p> +For an instant after that there was silence, during +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +which she shuddered as she tried to keep her gaze from +the thing that lay doubled oddly in the aisle. +</p> +<p> +And then she heard more shooting. It came from +the direction of the engine—the staccato crashing of +pistols; the shouts of men, their voices raised in anger. +</p> +<p> +Pressing her cheek against the window-pane, and looking +forward toward the engine, she saw Taylor. With a +gun in each hand, he was running down the little level +between the track and the steep wall of the cut, toward +her. She noted that his face still wore the mirthless +grin that had been on it when he shot the train-robber +in the car; though his eyes were alight with the lust of +battle—that was all too plain—and she shivered. For +Taylor, having killed one man, and grimly pursuing +others, seemed to suggest the spirit of this grim, rugged +country—the threat of death that seemed to linger on +every hand. +</p> +<p> +She saw him snap a shot as he ran, bending far over +to send the bullet under the car; she heard a pistol crash +from the other side of the car; and then she saw Taylor +go to his knees. +</p> +<p> +She gasped with horror and held to the window-sill, for +she feared Taylor had been killed. But almost instantly +she saw her error, for Taylor was on his hands and knees +crawling when she could again concentrate her gaze; and +she knew he was crawling under the car to catch the +man who had shot from the other side. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +</p> +<p> +Then Taylor disappeared, and she did not see him +for a time. She heard shots, though; many of them; +and then, after a great while, a silence. And during the +silence she sat very still, her face white and her lips stiff, +waiting. +</p> +<p> +The silence seemed to endure for an age; and then it +was broken by the sound of voices, the opening of the +door of the car, and the appearance of Taylor and some +other men—several members of the train-crew; the express-messenger; +the engineer, his right arm hanging +limply—and two men, preceding the others, their hands +bound, their faces sullen. +</p> +<p> +On Taylor’s face was the grin that had been on it all +along. The girl wondered at the man’s marvelous self-control—for +certainly during those moments of excitement +and danger he must have been aware of the terrible +risk he had been running. And then the thought struck +her—she had not considered that phase of the situation +before—that she <em>must</em> have screamed; that he had heard +her, and had emerged from the smoking-room to protect +her. She blushed, gratitude and a riot of other emotions +overwhelming her, so that she leaned weakly back in the +seat, succumbing to the inevitable reaction. +</p> +<p> +She did not look at Taylor again; she did not even see +him as he walked toward the rear of the car, followed by +the train-crew, and preceded by the two train-robbers he +had captured. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +</p> +<p> +But as the train-crew passed her, she heard one of them +say: +</p> +<p> +“That guy’s a whirlwind with a gun! Didn’t do no +hesitatin’, did he?” +</p> +<p> +And again: +</p> +<p> +“Now, what do you suppose would make a guy jump +in that way an’ run a chance of gettin’ plugged—plenty? +Do you reckon he was just yearnin’ fer trouble, or do +you reckon they was somethin’ else behind it?” +</p> +<p> +The girl might have answered, but she did not. She +sat very still, comparing Carrington with this man who +had plunged instantly into a desperate gun-fight to protect +her. And she knew that Carrington would not have +done as Taylor had done. And had Carrington seen her +face just at that moment he would have understood that +there was no possibility of him ever achieving the success +of which he had dreamed. +</p> +<p> +She heard one of the men say that the two men were +to be placed in the baggage-car until they reached Dawes; +and then Carrington and Parsons came to where she sat. +</p> +<p> +They talked, but the girl did not hear them, for her +thoughts were on the picture Taylor made when he appeared +at the door of the smoking-compartment arrayed +in his cowboy rigging, the grim smile on his face, his guns +flaming death to the man who thought to take advantage +of her helplessness. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span><a name='chV' id='chV'></a>CHAPTER V—THE UNEXPECTED</h2> +<p> +The train pulled out again presently, and the water-tank +and the cut were rapidly left in the rear. Taylor +returned to the smoking-room and resumed his seat, +and while the girl looked out of the window, some men of +the train-crew removed the body of the train-robber and +obliterated all traces of the fight. And Carrington and +Parsons, noting the girl’s abstractedness, again left her to +herself. +</p> +<p> +It had been the girl’s first glimpse of a man in cowboy +raiment, and, as she reflected, she knew she might have +known Taylor was an unusual man. However, she knew +it now. +</p> +<p> +Cursory glances at drawings she had seen made her +familiar with the type, but the cowboys of those drawings +had been magnificently arrayed in leather <em>chaparajos</em>, +usually fringed with spangles; and with long-roweled +spurs; magnificent wide brims—also bespangled, and +various other articles of personal adornment, bewildering +and awe inspiring. +</p> +<p> +But this man, though undoubtedly a cow-puncher, was +minus the magnificent raiment of the drawings. And, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +paradoxical as it may seem, the absence of any magnificent +trappings made <em>him</em> seem magnificent. +</p> +<p> +But she was not so sure that it was the lack of those +things that gave her that impression. He did not <em>bulge</em> in +his cowboy clothing; it fitted him perfectly. She was sure +it was he who gave magnificence to the clothing. Anyway, +she was certain he was magnificent, and her eyes glowed. +She knew, now that she had seen him in clothing to which +he was accustomed, and which he knew how to wear, that +she would have been more interested in him yesterday +had he appeared before her arrayed as he was at this +moment. +</p> +<p> +He had shown himself capable, self-reliant, confident. +She would have given him her entire admiration had it +not been for the knowledge that she had caught him +eavesdropping. That action had almost damned him in +her estimation—it would have completely and irrevocably +condemned him had it not been for her recollection of the +stern, almost savage interest she had seen in his eyes +while he had been listening to Carrington and Parsons. +</p> +<p> +She knew because of that expression that Carrington +and Parsons had been discussing something in which +he took a personal interest. She had not said so much +to Carrington, but her instinct told her, warned her, gave +her a presentiment of impending trouble. That was what +she had meant when she had told Carrington she had +seen <em>fighting</em> in Taylor’s eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +</p> +<p> +Taylor confined himself to the smoking-compartment. +The negro porter, with pleasing memories of generous +tips and a grimmer memory to exact his worship, hung +around him, eager to serve him, and to engage him in +conversation; once he grinningly mentioned the incident +of the cast-off clothing of the night before. +</p> +<p> +“I ain’t mentionin’ it, boss—not at all! I ain’t givin’ +you them duds till you ast for them. You done took me +by s’prise, boss—you shuah did. I might’ near caved +when you shoved that gun under ma nose—I shuah did, +boss. I don’t want to have nothin’ to do with your gun, +boss—I shuah don’t. She’d go ‘pop,’ an’ I wouldn’t be +heah no more! +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t reco’nize you in them heathen clo’s you had +on yesterday, boss; but I minds you with them duds on. +I knows you; you’re ‘Squint’ Taylor, of Dawes. I’ve +seen you on that big black hoss of yourn, a prancin’ an’ a +prancin’ through town—more’n once I’ve seen you. But +I didn’t know you in them heathen clo’s yesterday, boss—’deed +I didn’t!” +</p> +<p> +Later the porter slipped into the compartment. For a +minute or two he fussed around the room, setting things +to order, meanwhile chuckling to himself. Occasionally +he would cease his activities long enough to slap a knee +with the palm of a hand, with which movement he would +seem to be convulsed with merriment, and then he would +resume work, chuckling audibly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +</p> +<p> +For a time Taylor took no notice of his antics, but they +assailed his consciousness presently, and finally he asked: +</p> +<p> +“What’s eating you, George?” +</p> +<p> +The query was evidently just what “George” had +been waiting for. For now he turned and looked at Taylor, +his face solemn, but a white gleam of mirth in his +eyes belying the solemnity. +</p> +<p> +“Tips is comin’ easy for George this mornin’,” he said; +“they shuah is. No trouble at all. If a man wants to +get tips all he has to be is a dictionary—he, he, he!” +</p> +<p> +“So you’re a dictionary, eh? Well, explain the meaning +of this.” And he tossed a silver dollar to the other. +</p> +<p> +The dollar in hand, George tilted his head sidewise at +Taylor. +</p> +<p> +“How on earth you know I got somethin’ to tell you?” +</p> +<p> +“How do I know I’ve got two hands?” +</p> +<p> +“By lookin’ at them, boss.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, that’s how I know you’ve got something to tell +me—by looking at you.” +</p> +<p> +The porter chuckled. “I reckon it’s worth a dollar +to have a young lady interested in you,” he told himself +in a confidential voice, without looking at Taylor; “yassir, +it’s sure worth a dollar.” He slapped his knee delightedly. +“That young lady a heap interested in you, +’pears like. While ago she pens me in a corner of the +platform. ‘Porter, who’s that man in the smoking-compartment—that +cowboy? What’s his name, an’ where +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +does he live?’ I hesitates, ’cause I didn’t want to betray +no secrets—an’ scratch my haid. Then she pop half a +dollar in my hand, an’ I tole her you are Squint Taylor, +an’ that you own the Arrow ranch, not far from Dawes. +An’ she thank me an’ go away, grinnin’.” +</p> +<p> +“And the young lady, George; do you know her +name?” +</p> +<p> +“Them men she’s travelin’ with calls her Marion, boss.” +</p> +<p> +He peered intently at Taylor for signs of interest. He +saw no such signs, and after a while, noting that Taylor +seemed preoccupied, and was evidently no longer aware +of his presence, he slipped out noiselessly. +</p> +<p> +At nine thirty, Taylor, looking out of the car window, +noted that the country was growing familiar. Fifteen +minutes later the porter stuck his head in between the +curtains, saw that Taylor was still absorbed, and withdrew. +At nine fifty-five the porter entered the compartment. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll be in Dawes in five minutes, boss,” he said. +“I’ve toted your baggage to the door.” +</p> +<p> +The porter withdrew, and a little later Taylor got up +and went out into the aisle. At the far end of the car, +near the door, he saw Marion Harlan, Parsons, and +Carrington. +</p> +<p> +He did not want to meet them again after what had +occurred in the diner, and he cast a glance toward the +door behind him, hoping that the porter had carried his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +baggage to that end of the car. But the platform was +empty—his suitcase was at the other end. +</p> +<p> +He slipped into a seat on the side of the train that would +presently disclose to him a view of Dawes’s depot, and +of Dawes itself, leaned an elbow on the window-sill, and +waited. Apparently the three persons at the other end of +the car paid no attention to him, but glancing sidelong +once he saw the girl throw an interested glance at him. +</p> +<p> +And then the air-brakes hissed; he felt the train slowing +down, and he got up and walked slowly toward the +girl and her companions. At about the same instant she +and the others began to move toward the door; so that +when the train came to a stop they were on the car platform +by the time Taylor reached the door. And by the +time he stepped out upon the car platform the girl and +her friends were on the station platform, their baggage +piled at their feet. +</p> +<p> +Dawes’s depot was merely a roofless platform; and +there was no shelter from the glaring white sun that +flooded it. The change from the subdued light of the +coach to the shimmering, blinding glare of the sun on +the wooden planks of the platform affected Taylor’s eyes, +and he was forced to look downward as he alighted. And +then, not looking up, he went to the baggage-car and +pulled his two prisoners out. +</p> +<p> +Looking up as he walked down the platform with the +two men, he saw a transformed Dawes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +</p> +<p> +The little, frame station building had been a red, dingy +blot beside the glistening rails that paralleled the town. +It was now gaily draped with bunting—red, white, and +blue—which he recognized as having been used on the +occasion of the town’s anniversary celebration. +</p> +<p> +A big American flag topped the ridge of the station; +other flags projected from various angles of the +frame. +</p> +<p> +Most of the town’s other buildings were replicas of the +station in the matter of decorations—festoons of bunting +ran here and there from building to building; broad +bands of it were stretched across the fronts of other buildings; +gay loops of it crossed the street, suspended to form +triumphal arches; flags, wreaths of laurel, Japanese lanterns, +and other paraphernalia of the decorator’s art were +everywhere. +</p> +<p> +Down the street near the Castle Hotel, Taylor saw +transparencies, but he could not make out the words on +them. +</p> +<p> +He grinned, for certainly the victor of yesterday’s +election was outdoing himself. +</p> +<p> +He looked into the face of a man who stood near him +on the platform—who answered his grin. +</p> +<p> +“Our new mayor is celebrating in style, eh?” he said. +</p> +<p> +“Right!” declared the man. +</p> +<p> +He was about to ask the man which candidate had been +victorious—though he was certain it was Neil Norton—when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +he saw Marion Harlan, standing a little distance +from him, smiling at him. +</p> +<p> +It was a broad, impersonal smile, such as one citizen +of a town might exchange with another when both are +confronted with the visible evidences of political victory; +and Taylor responded to it with one equally impersonal. +Whereat the girl’s smile faded, and her gaze, still upon +Taylor, became speculative. Its quality told Taylor that +he should not presume upon the smile. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had no intention of presuming anything. Not +even the porter’s story of the girl’s interest in him had +affected him to the extent of fatuous imaginings. A +woman’s curiosity, he supposed, had led her to inquire +about him. He expected she rarely saw men arrayed as +he was—and as he had been arrayed the day before. +</p> +<p> +The girl’s gaze went from Taylor to the street in the +immediate vicinity of the station, and for the first time +since alighting on the platform Taylor saw a mass of +people near him. +</p> +<p> +Looking sharply at them, he saw many faces in the +mass that he knew. They all seemed to be looking at him +and, with the suddenness of a stroke came to him the +consciousness that there was no sound—that silence, deep +and unusual, reigned in Dawes. The train, usually merely +stopping at the station and then resuming its trip, was +still standing motionless behind him. With a sidelong +glance he saw the train-crew standing near the steps of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +the cars, looking at him. The porter and the waiter with +whose faces he was familiar, were grinning at him. +</p> +<p> +Taylor felt that his own grin, as he gazed around at the +faces that were all turned toward him, was vacuous and +foolish. He <em>felt</em> foolish. For he knew something had +attracted the attention of all these people to him, and he +had not the slightest idea what it was. For an instant +he feared that through some mental lapse he had forgotten +to remove his “dude” clothing; and he looked down at +his trousers and felt of his shirt, to reassure himself. +And he gravely and intently looked at his prisoners, wondering +if by any chance some practical joker of the town +had arranged the train robbery for his special benefit. +If that were the explanation it had been grim hoax—for +two men had been killed in the fight. +</p> +<p> +Looking up again, he saw that the grins on the faces +of the people around him had grown broader—and several +loud guffaws of laughter reached his ears. He looked +at Marion Harlan, and saw a puzzled expression on her +face. Carrington, too, was looking at him, and Parsons, +whose smile was a smirk of perplexity. +</p> +<p> +Taylor reddened with embarrassment. A resentment +that grew swiftly to an angry intolerance, seized him. +He straightened, squared his shoulders, thrust out his +chin, and shoving his prisoners before him, took several +long strides across the station platform. +</p> +<p> +This movement brought him close to Marion Harlan +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +and her friends, and his further progress was barred by +a man who placed a hand against his chest. +</p> +<p> +This man, too, was grinning. He seized Taylor’s +shoulders with both hands and looked into his face, the +grin on his own broad and expanding. +</p> +<p> +“Welcome home—you old son-of-a-gun!” said the +man. +</p> +<p> +His grin was infectious and Taylor answered it, dropping +his suitcase and looking the other straight in the +eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Norton,” he said, “what in hell is the cause of all +this staring at me? Can’t a man leave town for a few +days and come back without everybody looking at him +as though he were a curiosity?” +</p> +<p> +Norton—a tall, slender, sinewy man with broad shoulders—laughed +aloud and deliberately winked at several +interested citizens who had followed Taylor’s progress +across the platform, and who now stood near him, +grinning. +</p> +<p> +“You are a curiosity, man. You’re the first mayor +of this man’s town! Lordy,” he said to the surrounding +faces, “he hasn’t tumbled to it yet!” +</p> +<p> +The color left Taylor’s face; he stared hard at Norton; +he gazed in bewilderment at the faces near him. +</p> +<p> +“Mayor?” he said. “Why, good Lord, man, I wasn’t +here yesterday!” +</p> +<p> +“But your friends were!” yelped the delighted Norton. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +He raised his voice, so that it reached far into the crowd +on the street: +</p> +<p> +“He’s sort of fussed up, boys; this honor being conferred +on him so sudden; but give him time and he’ll talk +your heads off!” He leaned over to Taylor and whispered +in his ear. +</p> +<p> +“Grin, man, for God’s sake! Don’t stand there like a +wooden man; they’ll think you don’t appreciate it! It’s +the first time I ever saw you lose your nerve. Buck up, +man; why, they simply swamped Danforth; wiped him +clean off the map!” +</p> +<p> +Norton was whispering more into Taylor’s ear, but +Taylor could not follow the sequence of it, nor get a +coherent meaning out of it. He even doubted that he +heard Norton. He straightened, and looked around at +the crowd that now was pressing in on him, and for the +first time in his life he knew the mental panic and the +physical sickness that overtakes the man who for the +first time faces an audience whose eyes are focused on +him. +</p> +<p> +For a bag of gold as big as the mountains that loomed +over the distant southern horizon he could not have said +a word to the crowd. But he did succeed in grinning at +the faces around him, and at that the crowd yelled. +</p> +<p> +And just before the crowd closed in on him and he +began to shake hands with his delighted supporters, he +glanced at Marion Harlan. She was looking at him with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +a certain sober interest, though he was sure that back in +her eyes was a sort of humorous malice—which had, +however, a softening quality of admiration and, perhaps, +gratitude. +</p> +<p> +His gaze went from her to Carrington. The big man +was watching him with a veiled sneer which, when he met +Taylor’s eyes, grew open and unmistakable. +</p> +<p> +Taylor grinned broadly at him, for now it occurred to +him that he would be able to thwart Carrington’s designs +of “getting hold of the reins.” His grin at Carrington +was a silent challenge, and so the other interpreted it, +for his sneer grew positively venomous. +</p> +<p> +The girl caught the exchange of glances between them, +for Taylor heard her say to Parsons, just before the +noise of the crowd drowned her voice: +</p> +<p> +“Now I <em>know</em> he overheard you!” +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile, the two prisoners were standing near +Taylor. Taylor had almost forgotten them. He was +reminded of their presence when he saw Keats, the sheriff, +standing near him. At just the instant Taylor looked at +Keats, the latter was critically watching the prisoners. +</p> +<p> +Keats and Taylor had had many differences of opinion, +for the sheriff’s official actions had not merited nor received +Taylor’s approval. Taylor’s attitude toward the +man had always been that of good-natured banter, despite +the disgust he felt for the man. And now, pursuing his +customary attitude, Taylor called to him: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +</p> +<p> +“Specimens, eh! Picked them up at Toban’s this +morning. They yearned to hold up the train. There +were four, all together, but we had to put two out of +business. I came pretty near forgetting them. If I +hadn’t seen you just now, maybe I would have walked +right off and left them here. Take them to jail, Keats.” +</p> +<p> +Keats advanced. He met Taylor’s eyes and his lips +curved with a sneer: +</p> +<p> +“Pullin’ off a little grand-stand play, eh! Well, it’s +a mighty clever idea. First you get elected mayor, an’ +then you come in here, draggin’ along a couple of mean-lookin’ +hombres, an’ say they’ve tried to hold up the train +at Toban’s. It sounds mighty fishy to me!” +</p> +<p> +Taylor laughed. He heard a chuckle behind him, and +he turned, to see Carrington grinning significantly at +Keats. Taylor’s eyes chilled as his gaze went from one +man to the other, for the exchange of glances told him +that between the men there was a common interest, which +would link them together against him. And in the dead +silence that followed Keats’s words, Taylor drawled, +grinning coldly: +</p> +<p> +“Meaning that I’m a liar, Keats?” +</p> +<p> +His voice was gentle, and his shoulders seemed to droop +a little as though in his mind was a desire to placate +Keats. But there were men in Dawes who had seen +Taylor work his guns, and these held their breath and +began to shove backward. That slow, drooping of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +Taylor’s shoulders was a danger signal, a silent warning +that Taylor was ready for action, swift and violent. +</p> +<p> +And faces around Taylor whitened as the man stood +there facing Keats, his shoulders drooping still lower, +the smile on his face becoming one of cold, grim mockery. +</p> +<p> +The discomfiture of Keats was apparent. Indecision +and fear were in the set of his head—bowed a little; +and a dread reluctance was in his shifting eyes and the +pasty-white color of his face. It was plain that Keats +had overplayed; he had not intended to arouse the latent +tiger in Taylor; he had meant merely to embarrass him. +</p> +<p> +“Meaning that I’m a liar, Keats?” +</p> +<p> +Again Taylor’s voice was gentle, though this time it +carried a subtle taunt. +</p> +<p> +Desperately harried, Keats licked his hot lips and cast +a sullen glance around at the crowd. Then his gaze went +to Taylor’s face, and he drew a slow breath. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon I wasn’t meanin’ just that,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“Of course,” smiled Taylor; “that’s no way for a +sheriff to act. Take them in, Keats,” he added, waving +a hand at the prisoners; “it’s been so long since the sheriff +of this county arrested a man that the jail’s gettin’ tired, +yawning for somebody to get into it.” +</p> +<p> +He turned his back on Keats and looked straight at +Carrington: +</p> +<p> +“Have you got any ideas along the sheriff’s line?” he +asked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +</p> +<p> +Carrington flushed and his lips went into a sullen pout. +He did not speak, merely shaking his head, negatively. +</p> +<p> +Keats’s glance at Taylor was malignant with hate; and +Carrington’s sullen, venomous look was not unnoticed by +the crowd. Keats stepped forward and seized the two +prisoners, hustling them away, muttering profanely. +</p> +<p> +And then Taylor was led away by Norton and a committee +of citizens, leaving Carrington, the girl and Parsons +alone on the platform. +</p> +<p> +“Looks like we’re going to have trouble lining things +up,” remarked Parsons. “Danforth——” +</p> +<p> +“You shut up!” snapped Carrington. “Danforth’s an +ass and so are you!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span><a name='chVI' id='chVI'></a>CHAPTER VI—A MAN MAKES PLANS</h2> +<p> +Within an hour after his arrival in Dawes, Carrington +was sitting in the big front room of his +suite in the Castle Hotel, inspecting the town. +</p> +<p> +A bay window projected over the sidewalk, and from +a big leather chair placed almost in the center of the bay +between two windows and facing a third, at the front, +Carrington had a remarkably good view of the town. +</p> +<p> +Dawes was a thriving center of activity, with reasons +for its prosperity. Walking toward the Castle from the +railroad station, Carrington had caught a glimpse of the +big dam blocking the constricted neck of a wide basin +west of the town—and farther westward stretched a +vast agricultural section, level as a floor, with a carpet +of green slumbering in the white sunlight, and dotted +with young trees that seemed almost ready to bear. +</p> +<p> +There were many small buildings on the big level, some +tenthouses, and straight through the level was a wide, +sparkling stream of water, with other and smaller streams +intersecting it. These streams were irrigation ditches, +and the moisture in them was giving life to a vast section +of country that had previously been arid and dead. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +</p> +<p> +But Carrington’s interest had not been so much for +the land as for the method of irrigation. To be sure, he +had not stopped long to look, but he had comprehended +the system at a glance. There were locks and flumes +and water-gates, and plenty of water. But the irrigation +company had not completed its system. Carrington +intended to complete it. +</p> +<p> +Dawes was two years old, and it had the appearance of +having been hastily constructed. Its buildings were +mostly of frame—even the Castle, large and pretentious, +and the town’s aristocrat of hostelries, was of frame. +Carrington smiled, for later, when he had got himself +established, he intended to introduce an innovation in +building material. +</p> +<p> +The courthouse was a frame structure. It was directly +across the street from the Castle, and Carrington could +look into its windows and see some men at work inside +at desks. He had no interest in the post office, for that +was of the national government—and yet, perhaps, after +a while he might take some interest in that. +</p> +<p> +For Carrington’s vision, though selfish, was broad. A +multitude of men of the Carrington type have taken bold +positions in the eternal battle for progress, and all have +contributed something toward the ultimate ideal. And +not all have been scoundrels. +</p> +<p> +Carrington’s vision, however, was blurred by the mote +of greed. Dawes was flourishing; he intended to modernize +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +it, but in the process of modernization he intended +to be the chief recipient of the material profits. +</p> +<p> +Carrington had washed, shaved himself, and changed +his clothes; and as he sat in the big leather chair in the +bay, overlooking the street, he looked smooth, sleek, and +capable. +</p> +<p> +He had seemed massive in the Pullman, wearing a +traveling suit of some light material, and his corpulent +waist-line had been somewhat accentuated. +</p> +<p> +The blue serge suit he wore now made a startling +change in his appearance. It made his shoulders seem +broader; it made the wide, swelling arch of his chest +more pronounced, and in inverse ratio it contracted the +corpulent waist-line—almost eliminating it. +</p> +<p> +Carrington looked to be what he was—a big, virile, +magnetic giant of a man in perfect health. +</p> +<p> +He had not been sitting in the leather chair for more +than fifteen minutes when there came a knock on a door +behind him. +</p> +<p> +“Come!” he commanded. +</p> +<p> +A tall man entered, closed the door behind him and +with hat in hand stood looking at Carrington with a half-smile +which might have been slightly diffident, or impudent +or defiant—it was puzzling. +</p> +<p> +Carrington had twisted in his chair to get a glimpse +of his visitor; he now grunted, resumed his former position +and said, gruffly: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hello, Danforth!” +</p> +<p> +Danforth stepped over to the bay, and without invitation +drew up a chair and seated himself near Carrington. +</p> +<p> +Danforth was slender, big-framed, and sinewy. His +shoulders were broad and his waist slim. There was a +stubborn thrust to his chin; his nose was a trifle too long +to perfectly fit his face; his mouth a little too big, and +the lips too thin. The nose had a slight droop that made +one think of selfishness and greed, and the thin lips, with +a downward swerve at the corners, suggested cruelty. +</p> +<p> +These defects, however, were not prominent, for they +were offset by a really distinguished head with a mass of +short, curly hair that ruffled attractively under the brim +of the felt hat he wore. +</p> +<p> +The hat was in his right hand, now, but it had left its +impress on his hair, and as he sat down he ran his free +hand through it. Danforth knew where his attractions +were. +</p> +<p> +He grinned shallowly at Carrington when the latter +turned and looked at him. +</p> +<p> +He cleared his throat. “I suppose you’ve heard +about it?” +</p> +<p> +“I couldn’t help hearing.” Carrington scowled at the +other. “What in hell was wrong? We send you out +here, give you more than a year’s time and all the money +you want—which has been plenty—and then you lose. +What in the devil was the matter?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +</p> +<p> +“Too much Taylor,” smirked the other. +</p> +<p> +“But what else?” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing else—just Taylor.” +</p> +<p> +Carrington exclaimed profanely. +</p> +<p> +“Why, the man didn’t even know he was a candidate! +He was on the train I came in on!” +</p> +<p> +“It was Neil Norton’s scheme,” explained Danforth. +“I had <em>him</em> beaten to a frazzle. I suppose he knew it. +Two days before election he suddenly withdrew his name +and substituted Taylor’s. You know what happened. +He licked me two to one. He was too popular for me—damn +him! +</p> +<p> +“Norton owns a newspaper here—the only one in +the county—the <em>Eagle</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“Why didn’t you buy him?” +</p> +<p> +Danforth grinned sarcastically: “I didn’t feel that +reckless.” +</p> +<p> +“Honest, eh?” +</p> +<p> +Carrington rested his chin in the palm of his right hand +and scowled into the street. He was convinced that Danforth +had done everything he could to win the election, +and he was bitterly chagrined over the result. But that +result was not the dominating thought in his mind. He +kept seeing Taylor as the latter had stood on the station +platform, stunned with surprise over the knowledge +that he had been so signally honored by the people of +Dawes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +</p> +<p> +And Carrington had seen Marion Harlan’s glances at +the man; he had been aware of the admiring smile she +had given Taylor; and bitter passion gripped Carrington +at the recollection of the smile. +</p> +<p> +More—he had seen Taylor’s face when the girl had +smiled. The smile had thrilled Taylor—it had held +promise for him, and Carrington knew it. +</p> +<p> +Carrington continued to stare out into the street. Danforth +watched him furtively, in silence. +</p> +<p> +At last, not opening his lips, Carrington spoke: +</p> +<p> +“Tell me about this man, Taylor.” +</p> +<p> +“Taylor owns the Arrow ranch, in the basin south of +here. His ranch covers about twenty thousand acres. He +has a clear title. +</p> +<p> +“According to report, he employs about thirty men. +They are holy terrors—that is, they are what is called +‘hard cases,’ though they are not outlaws by any means. +Just a devil-may-care bunch that raises hell when it strikes +town. They swear by Taylor.” +</p> +<p> +So far as Carrington could see, everybody in Dawes +swore by Taylor. Carrington grimaced. +</p> +<p> +“That isn’t what I want to know,” he flared. “How +long has he been here; what kind of a fellow is he?” +</p> +<p> +“Taylor owned the Arrow before Dawes was founded. +When the railroad came through it brought with it some +land-sharks that tried to frame up on the ranch-owners in +the vicinity. It was a slick scheme, they tell me. They +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +had clouded every title, and figured to grab the whole +county, it seems. +</p> +<p> +“Taylor went after them. People I’ve talked with +here say it was a dandy shindy while it lasted. The land-grabbers +brought the courts in, and a crooked judge. +Taylor fought them, crooked judge and all, to a bite-the-dust +finish. Toward the end it was a free-for-all—and +the land-grabbers were chased out of the county. +</p> +<p> +“Naturally, the folks around here think a lot of Taylor +for the part he played in the deal. Besides that, he’s +a man that makes friends quickly—and holds them.” +</p> +<p> +“Has Taylor any interests besides his ranch?” +</p> +<p> +“A share in the water company, I believe. He owns +some land in town; and he is usually on all the public +committees here.” +</p> +<p> +“About thirty, isn’t he?” +</p> +<p> +“Twenty-eight.” +</p> +<p> +Carrington looked at the other with a sidelong, sneering +grin: +</p> +<p> +“Have any ladies come into his young life?” +</p> +<p> +Danforth snickered. “You’ve got me—I hadn’t inquired. +He doesn’t seem to be much of a ladies’ man, +though, I take it. Doesn’t seem to have time to monkey +with them.” +</p> +<p> +“H-m!” Carrington’s lips went into a pout as he +stared straight ahead of him. +</p> +<p> +Danforth at last broke a long silence with: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, we got licked, all right. What’s going to happen +now? Are you going to quit?” +</p> +<p> +“Quit?” Carrington snapped the word at the other, +his eyes flaming with rage. Then he laughed, mirthlessly, +resuming: “This defeat was unexpected; I wasn’t set +for it. But it won’t alter things—very much. I’ll have +to shake a leg, that’s all. What time does the next train +leave here for the capital?” +</p> +<p> +“At two o’clock this afternoon.” Danforth’s eyes +widened as he looked at Carrington. The curiosity in his +glance caused Carrington to laugh shortly. +</p> +<p> +“You don’t mean that the governor is in this thing?” +said Danforth. +</p> +<p> +“Why not?” demanded Carrington. “Bah! Do you +think I came in with my eyes closed!” +</p> +<p> +There was a new light in Danforth’s eyes—the flame +of renewed hope. +</p> +<p> +“Then we’ve still got a chance,” he declared. +</p> +<p> +Carrington laughed. “A too-popular mayor is not a +good thing for a town,” he said significantly. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span><a name='chVII' id='chVII'></a>CHAPTER VII—THE SHADOW OF THE PAST</h2> +<p> +Marion Harlan and her uncle, Elam Parsons, +did not accompany Carrington to the Castle Hotel. +By telegraph, through Danforth, Carrington had bought +a house near Dawes, and shortly after Quinton Taylor +left the station platform accompanied by his friends and +admirers, Marion and her uncle were in a buckboard riding +toward the place that, henceforth, was to be their +home. +</p> +<p> +For that question had been settled before the party left +Westwood. Parsons had declared his future activities +were to be centered in Dawes, that he had no further +interests to keep him in Westwood, and that he intended +to make his home in Dawes. +</p> +<p> +Certainly Marion had few interests in the town that +had been the scene of the domestic tragedy that had left +her parentless. She was glad to get away. For though +she had not been to blame for what had happened, she +was painfully conscious of the stares that followed her +everywhere, and aware of the morbid curiosity with +which her neighbors regarded her. Also—through the +medium of certain of her “friends,” she had become +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +cognizant of speculative whisperings, such as: “To think +of being brought up like that? Do you think she will be +like her mother?” Or—“What’s bred in the bone, <em>et +cetera</em>.” +</p> +<p> +Perhaps these good people did not mean to be unkind; +certainly the crimson stains that colored the girl’s cheeks +when she passed them should have won their charity and +their silence. +</p> +<p> +There was nothing in Westwood for her; and so she +was glad to get away. And the trip westward toward +Dawes opened a new vista of life to her. She was leaving +the old and the tragic and adventuring into the new +and promising, where she could face life without the onus +of a shame that had not been hers. +</p> +<p> +Before she was half way to Dawes she had forgotten +Westwood and its wagging tongues. She alone, of all +the passengers in the Pullman, had not been aware of the +heat and the discomfort. She had loved every foot of the +great prairie land that, green and beautiful, had flashed +past the car window; she had gazed with eager, interested +eyes into the far reaches of the desert through which she +had passed, filling her soul with the mystic beauty of this +new world, reveling in its vastness and in the atmosphere +of calm that seemed to engulf it. +</p> +<p> +Dawes had not disappointed her; on the contrary, she +loved it at first sight. For though Dawes was new and +crude, it looked rugged and honest—and rather too +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +busy to hesitate for the purpose of indulging in gossip—idle +or otherwise. Dawes, she was certain, was occupying +itself with progress—a thing that, long since, Westwood +had forgotten. +</p> +<p> +Five minutes after she had entered the buckboard, the +spirit of this new world had seized upon the girl and +she was athrob and atingle with the joy of it. It filled +her veins; it made her cheeks flame and her eyes dance. +And the strange aroma—the pungent breath of the sage, +borne to her on the slight breeze—she drew into her +lungs with great long breaths that seemed to intoxicate +her. +</p> +<p> +“Oh,” she exclaimed delightedly, “isn’t it great! Oh, +I love it!” +</p> +<p> +Elam Parsons grinned at her—the habitual smirk with +which he recognized all emotion not his own. +</p> +<p> +“It <em>does</em> look like a good field for business,” he +conceded. +</p> +<p> +The girl looked at him quickly, divined the sordidness +of his thoughts, and puckered her brows in a frown. And +thereafter she enjoyed the esthetic beauties of her world +without seeking confirmation from her uncle. +</p> +<p> +Her delight grew as the journey to the new home progressed. +She saw the fertile farming country stretching +far in the big section of country beyond the water-filled +basin; her eyes glowed as the irrigation ditches, with +their locks and gates, came under her observation; and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +she sat silent, awed by the mightiness of it all—the tall, +majestic mountains looming somberly many miles distant +behind a glowing mist—like a rose veil or a gauze +curtain lowered to partly conceal the mystic beauty of +them. +</p> +<p> +Intervening were hills and flats and draws and valleys, +and miles and miles of level grass land, green and peaceful +in the shimmering sunlight that came from somewhere +near the center of the big, pale-blue inverted bowl +of sky; she caught the silvery glitter of a river that wound +its way through the country like a monstrous serpent; she +saw dark blotches, miles long, which she knew were forests, +for she could see the spires of trees thrusting upward. +But from where she rode the trees seemed to be no larger +than bushes. +</p> +<p> +Looking backward, she could see Dawes. Already the +buckboard had traveled two or three miles, but the town +seemed near, and she had quite a shock when she looked +back at it and saw the buildings, mere huddled shanties, +spoiling the beauty of her picture. +</p> +<p> +A mile or so farther—four miles altogether, Parsons +told her—and they came in sight of a house. She had +difficulty restraining her delight when they climbed out +of the buckboard and Parsons told her the place was to +be their permanent home. For it was such a house as +she had longed to live in all the days of her life. +</p> +<p> +The first impression it gave her was that of spaciousness. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +For though only one story in height, the house +contained many rooms. Those, however, she saw later. +</p> +<p> +The exterior was what intrigued her interest at first +glance. So far as she knew, it was the only brick building +in the country. She had seen none such in Dawes. +</p> +<p> +There was a big porch across the front; the windows +were large; there were vines and plants thriving in the +shade from some big cottonwood trees near by—in fact, +the house seemed to have been built in a grove of the +giant trees; there were several outhouses, one of which +had chickens in an enclosure near it; there was a garden, +well-kept; and the girl saw that back of the house ran +a little stream which flowed sharply downward, later +to tumble into the big basin far below the irrigation +dam. +</p> +<p> +While Parsons was superintending the unloading of +the buckboard, Marion explored the house. It was completely +furnished, and her eyes glowed with pleasure as +she inspected it. And when Parsons and the driver were +carrying the baggage in she was outside the house, standing +at the edge of a butte whose precipitous walls descended +sharply to the floor of the irrigation basin, two +or three hundred feet below. She could no longer see the +cultivated level, with its irrigation ditches, but she could +see the big dam, a mile or so up the valley toward Dawes, +with the water creeping over it, and the big valley itself, +slumbering in the pure, white light of the morning. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +</p> +<p> +She went inside, slightly awed, and Parsons, noting her +excitement, smirked at her. She left him and went to +her room. Emerging later she discovered that Parsons +was not in the house. She saw him, however, at a distance, +looking out into the valley. +</p> +<p> +And then, in the kitchen, Marion came upon the housekeeper, +a negro woman of uncertain age. Parsons had +not told her there was to be a housekeeper. +</p> +<p> +The negro woman grinned broadly at her astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“Lawsey, ma’am; you jes’ got to have a housekeeper, +I reckon! How you ever git along without a housekeeper? +You’re too fine an’ dainty to keep house you’self!” +</p> +<p> +The woman’s name, the latter told her, was Martha, +and there was honest delight—and, it seemed to Marion, +downright relief in her eyes when she looked at the new +mistress. +</p> +<p> +“You ain’t got no ‘past,’ that’s certain, honey,” she +declared, with a delighted smile. “The woman that lived +here befo’ had a past, honey. A man named Huggins +lived in this house, an’ she said she’s his wife. Wife! +Lawsey! No man has a wife like that! She had a past, +that woman, an’ mebbe a present, too—he, he, he! +</p> +<p> +“He was the man what put the railroad through here, +honey. I done hear the woman say—her name was +Blanche, honey—that Huggins was one of them ultra +rich. But whatever it was that ailed him, honey, didn’t +help his looks none. Pig-eye, I used to call him, when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +I’se mad at him—which was mostly all the time—he, +he, he!” +</p> +<p> +The girl’s face whitened. Was she never to escape the +atmosphere she loathed? She shuddered and Martha +patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“There, there, honey; you ain’t ’sponsible for other +folks’ affairs. Jes’ you hold you’ head up an’ go about +you’ business. Nobody say anything to you because you’ +livin’ here.” +</p> +<p> +But Martha’s words neither comforted nor consoled +the girl. She went again to her room and sat for a long +time, looking out of a window. For now all the cheer +had gone out of the house; the rooms looked dull and +dreary—and empty, as of something gone out of them. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span><a name='chVIII' id='chVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII—CONCERNING “SQUINT”</h2> +<p> +Marion Harlan had responded eagerly to Carrington’s +fabrication regarding the rumor of +Lawrence Harlan’s presence in Dawes. Carrington’s reference +to her father’s sojourn in the town had been vague—he +merely told her that a rumor had reached him—a +man’s word, without details—and she had accepted it +at its face value. She was impatient to run the rumor +down, to personally satisfy herself, and she believed +Carrington. +</p> +<p> +But she spent a fruitless week interrogating people in +Dawes. She had gone to the courthouse, there to pass +long hours searching the records—and had found nothing. +Then, systematically, she had gone from store to +store—making small purchases and quizzing everyone +she came in contact with. None had known a man named +Harlan; it seemed that not one person in Dawes had +ever heard of him. +</p> +<p> +Parsons had returned to town in the buckboard shortly +after noon on the day of their arrival at the new house, +and she had not seen him again until the following morning. +Then he had told her that Carrington had gone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +away—he did not know where. Carrington would not +return for a week or two, he inferred. +</p> +<p> +Parsons had bought some horses. A little bay, short-coupled +but wiry, belonged to her, Parsons said—it was +a present from Carrington. +</p> +<p> +She hesitated to accept the horse; but the little animal +won her regard by his affectionate mannerisms, and at +the end of a day of doubt and indecision she accepted him. +</p> +<p> +She had ridden horses in Westwood—bareback when +no one had been looking, and with a side-saddle at other +times—but she discovered no side-saddle in Dawes. +However, she did encounter no difficulty in unearthing a +riding-habit with a divided skirt, and though she got into +that with a pulse of trepidation and embarrassment, she +soon discovered it to be most comfortable and convenient. +</p> +<p> +And Dawes did not stare at her because she rode +“straddle.” At first she was fearful, and watched +Dawes’s citizens furtively; but when she saw that she +attracted no attention other than would be attracted by +any good-looking young woman in more conventional +attire, she felt more at ease. But she could not help +thinking about the sanctimonious inhabitants of Westwood. +Would they not have declared their kindly predictions +vindicated had they been permitted to see her? +She could almost hear the chorus of “I-told-you-so’s”—they +rang in her ears over a distance of many hundreds +of miles! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +</p> +<p> +But the spirit of the young, unfettered country had +got into her soul, and she went her way unmindful of +Westwood’s opinions. +</p> +<p> +For three days she continued her search for tidings of +her father, eager and hopeful; and then for the remainder +of the week she did her searching mechanically, doggedly, +with a presentiment of failure to harass her. +</p> +<p> +And then one morning, when she was standing beside +her horse near the stable door, ready to mount and fully +determined to pursue the Carrington rumor to the end, +the word she sought was brought to her. +</p> +<p> +She saw a horseman coming toward her from the +direction of Dawes. He was not Parsons—for the rider +was short and broad; and besides, Parsons was spending +most of his time in Dawes. +</p> +<p> +The girl watched the rider, assured, as he came nearer, +that he was a stranger; and when he turned his horse +toward her, and she saw he <em>was</em> a stranger, she leaned +close and whispered to her own animal: +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Billy; what if it <em>should</em> be!” +</p> +<p> +An instant later she was watching the stranger dismount +within a few feet of where she was standing. +</p> +<p> +He was short and stocky, and undeniably Irish. He +was far past middle age, as his gray hair and seamed +wrinkles of his face indicated; but there was the light of +a youthful spirit and good-nature in his eyes that squinted +at the girl with a quizzical interest. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +</p> +<p> +With the bridle-rein in the crook of his elbow and his +hat in his hand, he bowed elaborately to the girl. +</p> +<p> +“Would ye be Miss Harlan, ma’am?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” she breathed, her face alight with eagerness, +for now since the man had spoken her name the presentiment +of news grew stronger. +</p> +<p> +The man’s face flashed into a wide, delighted grin and +he reached out a hand, into which she placed one of hers, +hardly knowing that she did it. +</p> +<p> +“Me name’s Ben Mullarky, ma’am. I’ve got a little +shack down on the Rabbit-Ear—which is a crick, for all +the name some locoed ignoramus give it. You c’ud see +the shack from here, ma’am—if ye’d look sharp.” +</p> +<p> +He pointed out a spot to her—a wooded section far +out in the big level country southward, beside the river—and +she saw the roof of a building near the edge of +the timber. +</p> +<p> +“That’s me shack,” offered Mullarky. “Me ol’ woman +an’ meself owns her—an’ a quarter-section—all proved. +We call it seven miles from the shack to Dawes. That’d +make it about three from here.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said the girl eagerly. +</p> +<p> +He grinned at her. “Comin’ in to town this mornin’ +for some knickknacks for me ol’ woman, I hear from +Coleman—who keeps a store—that there’s a fine-lookin’ +girl named Harlan searchin’ the country for news of her +father, Larry Harlan. I knowed him, ma’am.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +</p> +<p> +“You did? Oh, how wonderful!” She stood erect, +breathing fast, her eyes glowing with mingled joy and +impatience. She had not caught the significance of Mullarky’s +picturesque past tense, “knowed;” but when he +repeated it, with just a slight emphasis: +</p> +<p> +“I <em>knowed</em> him, ma’am,” she drew a quick, full breath +and her face whitened. +</p> +<p> +“You knew him,” she said slowly. “Does that +mean——” +</p> +<p> +Mullarky scratched his head and looked downward, not +meeting her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Squint Taylor would tell you the story, ma’am,” he +said. “You see, ma’am, he worked for Squint, an’ Squint +was with him when it happened.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s dead, then?” She stood rigid, tense, searching +Mullarky’s face with wide, dreading eyes, and when she +saw his gaze shift under hers she drew a deep sigh and +leaned against Billy, covering her face with her hands. +</p> +<p> +Mullarky did not attempt to disturb her; he stood, +looking glumly at her, reproaching himself for his awkwardness +in breaking the news to her. +</p> +<p> +It was some minutes before she faced him again, and +then she was pale and composed, except for the haunting +sadness that had come into her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you,” she said. “Can you tell me where I can +find Mr. Taylor—‘Squint,’ you called him? Is that the +Taylor who was elected mayor—last week?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +</p> +<p> +“The same, ma’am.” He turned and pointed southward, +into the big, level country that she admired so +much. +</p> +<p> +“Do you see that big timber grove ’way off there—where +the crick doubles to the north—with that big green +patch beyond?” She nodded. “That’s Taylor’s ranch—the +Arrow. You’ll find him there. He’s a mighty fine +man, ma’am. Larry Harlan would tell you that if he was +here. Taylor was the best friend that Larry Harlan ever +had—out here.” He looked at her pityingly. “I’m +sorry, ma’am, to be the bearer of ill news; but when I +heard you was in town, lookin’ for your father, I couldn’t +help comin’ to see you.” +</p> +<p> +She asked some questions about her father—which +Mullarky answered; though he could tell her nothing that +would acquaint her with the details of her father’s life +between the time he had left Westwood and the day of +his appearance in this section of the world. +</p> +<p> +“Mebbe Taylor will know, ma’am,” he repeated again +and again. And then, when she thanked him once more +and mounted her horse, he said: +</p> +<p> +“You’ll be goin’ to see Squint right away, ma’am, I +suppose. You can ease your horse right down the slope, +here, an’ strike the level. You’ll find a trail right down +there. You’ll follow it along the crick, an’ it’ll take you +into the Arrow ranchhouse. It’ll take you past me own +shack, too; an’ if you’ll stop in an’ tell the ol’ woman who +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +you are, she’ll be tickled to give you a snack an’ a cup of +tea. She liked Larry herself.” +</p> +<p> +The girl watched Mullarky ride away. He turned in +the saddle, at intervals, to grin at her. +</p> +<p> +Then, when Mullarky had gone she leaned against +Billy and stood for a long time, her shoulders quivering. +</p> +<p> +At last, though, she mounted the little animal and sent +him down the slope. +</p> +<p> +She found the trail about which Mullarky had spoken, +and rode it steadily; though she saw little of the wild, +virgin country through which she passed, because her +brimming eyes blurred it all. +</p> +<p> +She came at last to Mullarky’s shack, and a stout, motherly +woman, with an ample bosom and a kindly face, +welcomed her. +</p> +<p> +“So you’re Larry Harlan’s daughter,” said Mrs. Mullarky, +when her insistence had brought the girl inside the +cabin; “you poor darlin’. An’ Ben told you—the blunderin’ +idiot. He’ll have a piece of my mind when he +comes back! An’ you’re stoppin’ at the old Huggins +house, eh?” She looked sharply at the girl, and the +latter’s face reddened. Whereat Mrs. Mullarky patted +her shoulder and murmured: +</p> +<p> +“It ain’t your fault that there’s indacint women in +the world; an’ no taint of them will ever reach you. But +the fools in this world is always waggin’ their tongues, +associatin’ what’s happened with what they think will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +happen. An’ mebbe they’ll wonder about you. It’s your +uncle that’s there with you, you say? Well, then, don’t +you worry. You run right along to see Squint Taylor, +now, an’ find out what he knows about your father. +Taylor’s a mighty fine man, darlin’.” +</p> +<p> +And so Marion went on her way again, grateful for +Mrs. Mullarky’s kindness, but depressed over the knowledge +that the atmosphere of suspicion, which had enveloped +her in Westwood, had followed her into this new +country which, she had hoped, would have been more +friendly. +</p> +<p> +She came in sight of the Arrow ranchhouse presently, +and gazed at it admiringly. It was a big building, of +adobe brick, with a wide porch—or gallery—entirely +surrounding it. It was in the center of a big space, with +timber flanking it on three sides, and at the north was a +green stretch of level that reached to the sloping banks of +a river. +</p> +<p> +There were several smaller buildings; a big, fenced enclosure—the +corrals, she supposed; a pasture, and a +garden. Everything was in perfect order, and had it not +been for the aroma of the sage that assailed her nostrils, +the awe-inspiring bigness of it all, the sight of thousands +of cattle—which she could see through the trees beyond +the clearing, she could have likened the place to a big +eastern farmhouse of the better class, isolated and prosperous. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +</p> +<p> +She dismounted from her horse at a corner of the +house, near a door that opened upon the wide porch, and +stood, pale and hesitant, looking at the door, which was +closed. +</p> +<p> +And as she stared at the door, it swung inward and +Quinton Taylor appeared in the opening. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span><a name='chIX' id='chIX'></a>CHAPTER IX—A MAN LIES</h2> +<p> +Taylor was arrayed as Marion had mentally pictured +him that day when, in the Pullman, she had +associated him with ranches and ranges. Evidently he +was ready to ride, for leather chaps incased his legs. The +chaps were plain, not even adorned with the spangles of +the drawings she had seen; and they were well-worn +and shiny in spots. A pair of big, Mexican spurs were +on the heels of his boots; the inevitable cartridge-belt +about his middle, sagging with the heavy pistol; +a quirt dangled from his left hand. Assuredly he +belonged in this environment—he even seemed to dominate +it. +</p> +<p> +She had wondered how he would greet her; but his +greeting was not at all what she had feared it would be. +For he did not presume upon their meeting on the train; +he gave no sign that he had ever seen her before; there +was not even a glint in his eyes to tell her that he remembered +the scornful look she had given him when she discovered +him listening to the conversation carried on between +her uncle and Carrington. His manner indicated +that if <em>she</em> did not care to mention the matter <em>he</em> would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +not. His face was grave as he stepped across the porch +and stood before her. And he said merely: +</p> +<p> +“Are you looking for someone, ma’am?” +</p> +<p> +“I came to see you, Mr. Taylor,” she said. (And then +he knew that the negro porter on the train had not lied +when he said the girl had paid him for certain information.) +</p> +<p> +But Taylor’s face was still grave, for he thought he +knew what she had come for. He had overheard a great +deal of the conversation between Parsons and Carrington +in the dining-car, and he remembered such phrases as: +“That fairy tale about her father having been seen in +this locality; To get her out here, where there isn’t a +hell of a lot of law, and a man’s will is the only thing that +governs him;” and, “Then you lied about Lawrence +Harlan having been seen in this country.” Also, he remembered +distinctly another phrase, uttered by Carrington: +“That you framed up on her mother, to get her to +leave Larry.” +</p> +<p> +All of that conversation was vivid in Taylor’s mind, +and mingled with the recollection of it now was a grim +pity for the girl, for the hypocritical character of her +supposed friends. +</p> +<p> +To be sure, the girl did not know that Parsons had +lied about her father having been seen in the vicinity of +Dawes; but that did not alter the fact that Larry Harlan +had really been here; and Taylor surmised that she had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +made inquiries, thus discovering that there was truth in +Carrington’s statement. +</p> +<p> +He got a chair for her and seated himself on the porch +railing. +</p> +<p> +“You came to see me?” he said, encouragingly. +</p> +<p> +“I am Marion Harlan, the daughter of Lawrence +Harlan,” began the girl. And then she paused to note the +effect of her words on Taylor. +</p> +<p> +So far as she could see, there was no sign of emotion +on Taylor’s face. He nodded, looking steadily at her. +</p> +<p> +“And you are seeking news of your father,” he said. +“Who told you to come to me?” +</p> +<p> +“A man named Ben Mullarky. He said my father +had worked for you—that you had been his best friend.” +</p> +<p> +She saw his lips come together in straight lines. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Larry. You knew he died, Miss Harlan?” +</p> +<p> +“Mullarky told me.” The girl’s eyes moistened. “And +I should like to know something about him—how he +lived after—after he left home; whether he was happy—all +about him. You see, Mr. Taylor, I loved him!” +</p> +<p> +“And Larry Harlan loved his daughter,” said Taylor +softly. +</p> +<p> +He began to tell her of her father; how several years +before Harlan had come to him, seeking employment; +how Larry and himself had formed a friendship; how +they had gone together in search of the gold that Larry +claimed to have discovered in the Sangre de Christo +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +Mountains; of the injury Larry had suffered, and how +the man had died while he himself had been taking him +toward civilization and assistance. +</p> +<p> +During the recital, however, one thought dominated +him, reddening his face with visible evidence of the sense +of guilt that had seized him. He must deliberately lie to +the daughter of the man who had been his friend. +</p> +<p> +In his pocket at this instant was Larry’s note to him, +in which the man had expressed his fear of fortune-hunters. +Taylor remembered the exact words: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Marion will have considerable money and I don’t want no +sneak to get hold of it—like the sneak that got hold of the +money my wife had, that I saved. There’s a lot of them +around. If Marion is going to fall in with one of that kind, +I’d rather she wouldn’t get what I leave; the man would get +it away from her. Use your own judgment and I’ll be +satisfied. +</p> +<p> +And Taylor’s judgment was that Carrington and Parsons +were fortune-hunters; that if they discovered the +girl to be entitled to a share of the money that had been +received from the sale of the mine, they would endeavor +to convert it to their own use. And Taylor was determined +they should not have it. +</p> +<p> +The conversation he had overheard in the dining-car +had convinced him of their utter hypocrisy and selfishness; +it had aroused in him a feeling of savage resentment +and disgust that would not permit him to transfer +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +a cent of the money to the girl as long as they held the +slightest influence over her. +</p> +<p> +Again he mentally quoted from Larry’s note to him: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The others were too selfish and sneaking. (That meant +Parsons—and one other.) Squint, I want you to take +care of her.... Sell—the mine—take my share +and for it give Marion a half-interest in your ranch, the +Arrow. If there is any left, put it in land in Dawes—that +town is going to boom. Guard it for her, and marry +her, Squint; she’ll make you a good wife. +</p> +<p> +Since the first meeting with the girl on the train Taylor +had felt an entire sympathy with Larry Harlan in his expressed +desire to have Taylor marry the girl; in fact, she +was the first girl that Taylor had ever wanted to marry, +and the passion in his heart for her had already passed +the wistful stage—he was determined to have her. But +that passion did not lessen his sense of obligation to Larry +Harlan. Nor would it—if he could not have the girl +himself—prevent him doing what he could to keep her +from forming any sort of an alliance with the sort of +man Larry had wished to save her from, as expressed +in this passage of the note: “If Marion is going to fall +in with one of that kind, I’d rather she wouldn’t get what +I leave.” +</p> +<p> +Therefore, since Taylor distrusted Carrington and +Parsons, he had decided he would not tell the girl of the +money her father had left—the share of the proceeds of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +the mine. He would hold it for her, as a sacred trust, +until the time came—if it ever came—when she would +have discovered their faithlessness—or until she needed +the money. More, he was determined to expose the men. +</p> +<p> +He knew, thanks to his eavesdropping on the train, at +least something regarding the motives that had brought +them to Dawes; Carrington’s words, “When we get hold +of the reins,” had convinced him that they and the interests +behind them were to endeavor to rob the people of +Dawes. That was indicated by their attempt to have +David Danforth elected mayor of the town. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had already decided that he could not permit +Marion to see the note her father had left, for he did not +want her to feel that she was under any obligation—parental +or otherwise—to marry him. If he won her +at all, he wanted to win her on his merits. +</p> +<p> +As a matter of fact, since he had decided to lie about +the money, he was determined to say nothing about the +note at all. He would keep silent, making whatever explanations +that seemed to be necessary, trusting to time +and the logical sequence of events for the desired outcome. +</p> +<p> +He was forced to begin to lie at once. When he had +finished the story of Larry’s untimely death, the girl +looked straight at him. +</p> +<p> +“Then you were with him when he died. Did—did +he mention anyone—my mother—or me?” +</p> +<p> +“He said: ‘Squint, there is a daughter’”—Taylor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +was quoting from the note—“‘she was fifteen when I +saw her last. She looked just like me—thank God for +that!’” Taylor blushed when he saw the girl’s face +redden, for he knew what her thoughts were. He should +not have quoted that sentence. He resolved to be more +careful; and went on: “He told me I was to take care of +you, to offer you a home at the Arrow—after I found +you. I was to go to Westwood, Illinois, to find you. I +suppose he wanted me to bring you here.” +</p> +<p> +The speech was entirely unworthy, and Taylor knew it, +and he eased his conscience by adding: “He thought, I +suppose, that you would like to be where he had been. +I’ve not touched the room he had. All his effects are +there—everything he owned, just as he left them. I +had given him a room in the house because I liked him +(that was the truth), and I wanted him where I could +talk to him.” +</p> +<p> +“I cannot thank you enough for that!” she said earnestly. +And then Taylor was forced to lie again, for she +immediately asked: “And the mine? It proved to be +worthless, I suppose. For,” she added, “that would be +just father’s luck.” +</p> +<p> +“The mine wasn’t what we thought it would be,” said +Taylor. He was looking at his boots when he spoke, and +he wondered if his face was as red as it felt. +</p> +<p> +“I am not surprised.” There was no disappointment +in her voice, and therefore Taylor knew she was not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +avaricious—though he knew he had not expected her to be. +“Then he left nothing but his personal belongings?” she +added. +</p> +<p> +Taylor nodded. +</p> +<p> +The girl sat for a long time, looking out over the river +into the vast level that stretched away from it. +</p> +<p> +“He has ridden there, I suppose,” she said wistfully. +“He was here for nearly three years, you said. Then +he must have been everywhere around here.” And she +got up, gazing about her, as though she would firmly fix +the locality for future reminiscent dreams. Then suddenly +she said: +</p> +<p> +“I should like to see his room—may I?” +</p> +<p> +“You sure can!” +</p> +<p> +She followed him into the house, and he stood in the +open doorway, watching her as she went from place to +place, looking at Larry’s effects. +</p> +<p> +Taylor did not remain long at the door; he went out +upon the porch again, leaving her in the room, and after +a long time she joined him, her eyes moist, but a smile +on her lips. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll leave his things there—a little longer, won’t +you? I should like to have them, and I shall come for +them, some day.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” he said. “But, look here, Miss Harlan. Why +should you take his things? Leave them here—and come +yourself. That room is yours, if you say the word. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +And a half-interest in the ranch. I was going to offer +your father an interest in it—if he had lived——” +</p> +<p> +He realized his mistake when he saw her eyes widen +incredulously. And there was a change in her voice—it +was full of doubt, of distrust almost. +</p> +<p> +“What had father done to deserve an interest in your +ranch?” she demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Why,” he answered hesitatingly, “it’s rather hard to +say. But he helped me much; he suggested improvements +that made the place more valuable; he was a good man, +and he took a great deal of the work off my mind—and +I liked him,” he finished lamely. +</p> +<p> +“And do you think I could do his share of the work?” +she interrogated, looking at him with an odd smile, the +meaning of which Taylor could not fathom. +</p> +<p> +“I couldn’t expect that, of course,” he said boldly; +“but I owe Harlan something for what he did for me, +and I thought——” +</p> +<p> +“You thought you would be charitable to the daughter,” +she finished for him, with a smile in which there was +gratitude and understanding. +</p> +<p> +“I am sure I can’t thank you enough for feeling that +way toward my father and myself. But I can’t accept, +you know.” +</p> +<p> +Taylor did know, of course. A desperate desire to +make amends for his lying, to force upon her gratuitously +what he had illegally robbed her of, had been the motive +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +underlying his offer. And he would have been disappointed +had she accepted, for that would have revealed +a lack of spirit which he had hoped she possessed. +</p> +<p> +And yet Taylor felt decidedly uncomfortable over the +refusal. He wanted her to have what belonged to her, +for he divined from the note her father had left that +she would have need of it. +</p> +<p> +He discovered by judicious questioning, by inference, +and through crafty suggestion, that she was entirely dependent +upon her uncle; that her uncle had bought the +Huggins house, and that Carrington had made her a +present of the horse she rode. +</p> +<p> +This last bit of information, volunteered by Marion, +provoked Taylor to a rage that made him grit his teeth. +</p> +<p> +A little while longer they talked, and when the girl +mounted her horse to ride away, they had entered into +an agreement under which on Tuesdays and Fridays—the +first Tuesday falling on the following day—Taylor +was to be absent from the ranch. And during his absence +the girl was to come and stay at the ranchhouse, there to +occupy her father’s room and, if she desired, to enter +the other rooms at will. +</p> +<p> +As a concession to propriety, she was to bring Martha, +the Huggins housekeeper, with her. +</p> +<p> +But Taylor, after the girl had left, stood for an hour +on the porch, watching the dust-cloud that followed the +girl’s progress through the big basin, his face red, his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +soul filled with loathing for the part his judgment was +forcing him to play. But arrayed against the loathing +was a complacent satisfaction aroused over the thought +that Carrington would never get the money that Larry +Harlan had left to the girl. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span><a name='chX' id='chX'></a>CHAPTER X—THE FRAME-UP</h2> +<p> +James J. Carrington was unscrupulous, but +even his most devout enemy could not have said that +he lacked vision and thoroughness. And, while he had +been listening to Danforth in his apartment in the Castle +Hotel, he had discovered that Neil Norton had made a +technical blunder in electing Quinton Taylor mayor of +Dawes. Perhaps that was why Carrington had not +seemed to be very greatly disturbed over the knowledge +that Danforth had been defeated; certainly it was why +Carrington had taken the first train to the capital. +</p> +<p> +Carrington was tingling with elation when he reached +the capital; but on making inquiries he found that the +governor had left the city the day before, and that he +was not expected to return for several days. +</p> +<p> +Carrington passed the interval renewing some acquaintances, +and fuming with impatience in the barroom, the +billiard-room, and the lobby of his hotel. +</p> +<p> +But he was the first visitor admitted to the governor’s +office when the latter returned. +</p> +<p> +The governor was a big man, flaccid and portly, and +he received Carrington with a big Stetson set rakishly on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +the back of his head and an enormous black cigar in his +mouth. That he was not a statesman but a professional +politician was quite as apparent from his appearance as +was his huge, welcoming smile, a certain indication that +he was on terms of intimate friendship with Carrington. +Formerly an eastern political worker, and a power in the +councils of his party, his appointment as governor of the +Territory had come, not because of his ability to fill the +position, but as a reward for the delivery of certain votes +which had helped to make his party successful at the +polls. He would be the last carpetbag governor of the +Territory, for the Territory had at last been admitted +to the Union; the new Legislature was even then in session; +charters were already being issued to municipalities +that desired self-government—and the governor, soon to +quit his position as temporary chief, had no real interest +in the new régime, and no desire to aid in eliminating the +inevitable confusion. +</p> +<p> +“Take a seat, Jim,” he invited, “and have a cigar. +My secretary tells me you’ve been buzzing around here +like a bee lost from the hive, for the past week.” He +grinned hugely at Carrington, poking the latter playfully +in the ribs as Carrington essayed to light the cigar that +had been given him. +</p> +<p> +“Worried about that man Taylor, in Dawes, eh?” he +went on, as Carrington smoked. “Well, it <em>was</em> too bad +that Danforth didn’t trim him, wasn’t it? But”—and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +his eyes narrowed—“I’m still governor, and Taylor isn’t +mayor yet—and never will be!” +</p> +<p> +Carrington smiled. “You saw the mistake, too, +eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Saw it!” boomed the governor. “I’ve been watching +that town as a cat watches a mouse. Itching for the +clean-up, Jim,” he whispered. “Why, I’ve got the papers +all made out—ousting him and appointing Danforth +mayor. Right here they are.” He reached into a pigeon-hole +and drew out some legal papers. “You can serve +them yourself. Just hand them to Judge Littlefield—he’ll +do the rest. It’s likely—if Taylor starts a fuss, +that you’ll have to help Littlefield handle the case—arranging +for deputies, and such. If you need any more +help, just wire me. I don’t pack my carpetbag for a year +yet, and we can do a lot of work in that time.” +</p> +<p> +Carrington and the governor talked for an hour or +more, and when Carrington left for the office he was +grinning with pleasurable anticipation. For a municipality, +already sovereign according to the laws of the +people, had been delivered into his hands. +</p> +<p> +Just at dusk on Tuesday evening Carrington alighted +from the train at Dawes. He went to his rooms in the +Castle, removed the stains of travel, descended the stairs +to the dining-room, and ate heartily; then, stopping at +the cigar-counter to light a cigar, he inquired of the clerk +where he could find Judge Littlefield. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +</p> +<p> +“He’s got a house right next to the courthouse—on +your left, from here,” the clerk told him. +</p> +<p> +A few minutes later Carrington was seated opposite +Judge Littlefield, with a table between them, in the front +room of the judge’s residence. +</p> +<p> +“My name is Carrington—James J.,” was Carrington’s +introduction of himself. “I have just left the governor, +and he gave me these, to hand over to you.” He +shoved over the papers the governor had given him, smiling +slightly at the other. +</p> +<p> +The judge answered the smile with a beaming smirk. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve heard of you,” he said; “the governor has often +spoken of you.” He glanced hastily over the papers, and +his smirk widened. “The good people of Dawes will be +rather shocked over this decision, I suppose. But laymen +<em>will</em> confuse things—won’t they? Now, if Norton +and his friends had come to <em>me</em> before they decided to +enter Taylor’s name, this thing would not have happened.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m glad it <em>did</em> happen,” laughed Carrington. “The +chances are that even Norton would have beaten Danforth, +and then the governor could not have interfered.” +</p> +<p> +Carrington’s gaze became grim as he looked at the +judge. “You are prepared to go the limit in this case, +I suppose?” he interrogated. “There is a chance that +Taylor and his friends will attempt to make trouble. But +any trouble is to be handled firmly, you understand. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +There is to be no monkey business. If they accept the +law’s mandates, as all law-abiding citizens should accept +it, all well and good. And if they don’t—and they want +trouble, we’ll give them that! Understand?” +</p> +<p> +“Perfectly,” smiled the judge. “The law is not to be +assailed.” +</p> +<p> +Smilingly he bowed Carrington out. +</p> +<p> +Carrington took a turn down the street, walking until +his cigar burned itself out; then he entered the hotel and +sat for a time in the lobby. Then he went to bed, satisfied +that he had done a good week’s work, and conscious that +he had launched a heavy blow at the man for whom he +had conceived a great and bitter hatred. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span><a name='chXI' id='chXI'></a>CHAPTER XI—“NO FUN FOOLING HER”</h2> +<p> +Accompanied by Martha, who rode one of the +horses Parsons had bought, Marion Harlan began +her trip to the Arrow shortly after dawn. +</p> +<p> +The girl had said nothing to Parsons regarding her +meeting with Taylor the previous day, nor of her intention +to pass the day at the Arrow. For she feared that +Parsons might make some objection—and she wanted +to go. +</p> +<p> +That she feared her uncle’s deterrent influence argued +that she was aware that she was doing wrong in going +to the Arrow—even with Martha as chaperon; but that +was, perhaps, the very reason the thought of going +engaged her interest. +</p> +<p> +She wondered many times, as she rode, with the negro +woman trailing her, if there was not inherent in her some +of those undesirable traits concerning which the good +people of Westwood had entertained fears. +</p> +<p> +The thought crimsoned her cheeks and brightened her +eyes; but she knew she had no vicious thoughts—that +she was going to the Arrow, not because she wanted to +see Taylor again, but because she wanted to sit in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +room that had been occupied by her father. She wanted +to look again at his belongings, to feel his former presence—as +she had felt it while gazing out over the vast level +beyond the river, where he had ridden many times. +</p> +<p> +She looked in on Mrs. Mullarky as they passed the +Mullarky cabin, and when the good woman learned of +her proposed visit to the Arrow, she gave her entire +approval. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t blame you, darlin’,” declared Mrs. Mullarky. +“Let the world jabber—if it wants to. If it was me +father that had been over there, I’d stay there, takin’ +Squint Taylor at his word—an’ divvle a bit I’d care +what the world would say about it!” +</p> +<p> +So Marion rode on, slightly relieved. But the crimson +stain was still on her cheeks when she and Martha dismounted +at the porch, and she looked fearfully around, +half-expecting that Taylor would appear from somewhere, +having tricked her. +</p> +<p> +But Taylor was nowhere in sight. A fat man appeared +from somewhere in the vicinity of the stable, +doffed his hat politely, informed her that he was the +“stable boss” and would care for the horses; he having +been delegated by Taylor to perform whatever service +Miss Harlan desired; and ambled off, leading the horses, +leaving the girl and Martha standing near the edge of +the porch. +</p> +<p> +Marion entered the house with a strange feeling of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +guilt and shame. Standing in the open doorway—where +she had seen Taylor standing when she had dismounted +the day before—she was afflicted with regret and mortification +over her coming. It wasn’t right for a girl to +do as she was doing; and for an instant she hesitated on +the verge of flight. +</p> +<p> +But Martha’s voice directly behind her, reassured her. +</p> +<p> +“They ain’t a soul here, honey—not a soul. You’ve +got the whole house to yo’self. This am a lark—shuah +enough. He, he, he!” +</p> +<p> +It was the voice of the temptress—and Marion heeded +it. With a defiant toss of her head she entered the room, +took off her hat, laid it on a convenient table, calmly +telling Martha to do the same. Then she went boldly +from one room to another, finally coming to a halt in +the doorway of the room that had been occupied by her +father. +</p> +<p> +For her that room seemed to hallow the place. It was +as though her father were here with her; as though there +were no need of Martha being here with her. The +thought of it removed any stigma that might have been +attached to her coming; it made her heedless of the +opinion of the world and its gossip-mongers. +</p> +<p> +She forgot the world in her interest, and for more +than an hour, with Martha sitting in a chair sympathetically +watching her, she reveled in the visible proofs of +her father’s occupancy of the room. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +</p> +<p> +Later she and Martha went out on the porch, where, +seated in rocking-chairs—that had not been on the porch +the day before—she filled her mental vision with pictures +of her father’s life at the Arrow. Those pictures +were imaginary, but they were intensely satisfying to the +girl who had loved her father, for she could almost see +him moving about her. +</p> +<p> +“You shuah does look soft an’ dreamy, honey,” Martha +told her once. “You looks jes’ like a delicate ghost. A +while ago, lookin’ at you, I shuah was scared you was +goin’ to blow away!” +</p> +<p> +But Marion was not the ethereal wraith that Martha +thought her. She proved that a little later, when, with +the negro woman abetting her, she went into the house +and prepared dinner. For she ate so heartily that Martha +was forced to amend her former statement. +</p> +<p> +“For a ghost you shuah does eat plenty, honey,” she +said. +</p> +<p> +Later they were out on the porch again. The big level +on the other side of the river was flooded with a slumberous +sunshine, with the glowing, rose haze of early +afternoon enveloping it, and the girl was enjoying it +when there came an interruption. +</p> +<p> +A cowboy emerged from a building down near the +corral—Marion learned later that the building was +the bunkhouse, which meant that it was used as sleeping-quarters +for the Arrow outfit—and walked, with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +the rolling stride so peculiar to his kind, toward the +porch. +</p> +<p> +He was a tall young man, red of face, and just now +affected with a mighty embarrassment, which was revealed +in the awkward manner in which he removed his +hat and shuffled his feet as he came to a halt within a +few feet of Marion. +</p> +<p> +“The boss wants to know how you are gettin’ along, +ma’am, an’ if there’s anything you’re wantin’?” +</p> +<p> +“We are enjoying ourselves immensely, thank you; +and there is nothing we want—particularly.” +</p> +<p> +The puncher had turned to go before the girl thought +of the significance of the “boss.” +</p> +<p> +Her face was a trifle pale as she called to the puncher. +</p> +<p> +“Who is your boss—if you please?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +The puncher wheeled, a slow grin on his face. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Squint Taylor, ma’am.” +</p> +<p> +She sat erect. “Do you mean that Mr. Taylor is +here?” +</p> +<p> +“He’s in the bunkhouse, ma’am.” +</p> +<p> +She got up, and, holding her head very erect, began +to walk toward the room in which she had left her hat. +</p> +<p> +But half-way across the porch the puncher’s voice +halted her: +</p> +<p> +“Squint was sayin’ you didn’t expect him to be here, +an’ that I’d have to do the explainin’. He couldn’t come, +you see.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +</p> +<p> +“Ashamed, I suppose,” she said coldly. +</p> +<p> +She was facing the puncher now, and she saw him grin. +</p> +<p> +“Why, no, ma’am; I don’t reckon he’s a heap ashamed. +But it’d be mighty inconvenient for him. You see, ma’am, +this mornin’, when he was gittin’ ready to ride to the +south line, his cayuse got an ornery streak an’ throwed +him, sprainin’ Squint’s ankle.” +</p> +<p> +The girl’s emotions suddenly reacted; the resentment +she had yielded to became self-reproach. For she had +judged hastily, and she had always felt that one had no +right to judge hastily. +</p> +<p> +And Taylor had been remarkably considerate; for he +had not even permitted her to know of the accident until +after noon. That indicated that he had no intention of +forcing himself on her. +</p> +<p> +She hesitated, saw Martha grinning into a hand, looked +at the puncher’s expressionless face, and felt that she had +been rather prudish. Her cheeks flushed with color. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had actually been a martyr on a small scale in +confining himself to the bunkhouse, when he could have +enjoyed the comforts and spaciousness of the ranchhouse +if it had not been for her own presence. +</p> +<p> +“Is—is his ankle badly sprained?” she hesitatingly +asked the now sober-faced puncher. +</p> +<p> +“Kind of bad, ma’am; he ain’t been able to do no +walkin’ on it. Been hobblin’ an’ swearin’, mostly, ma’am. +It’s sure a trial to be near him.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +</p> +<p> +“And it is warm here; it must be terribly hot in that +little place!” +</p> +<p> +She was at the edge of the porch now, her face radiating +sympathy. +</p> +<p> +“I am not surprised that he should swear!” she told +the puncher, who grinned and muttered: +</p> +<p> +“He’s sure first class at it, ma’am.” +</p> +<p> +“Why,” she said, paying no attention to the puncher’s +compliment of his employer, “he is hurt, and I have been +depriving him of his house. You tell him to come right +out of that stuffy place! Help him to come here!” +</p> +<p> +And without waiting to watch the puncher depart, she +darted into the house, pulled a big rocker out on the +porch, got a pillow and arranged it so that it would form +a resting-place for the injured man’s head—providing +he decided to occupy the chair, which she doubted—and +then stood on the edge of the porch, awaiting his +appearance. +</p> +<p> +Inside the bunkhouse the puncher was grinning at +Taylor, who, with his right foot swathed in bandages, +was sitting on a bench, anxiously awaiting the delivery of +the puncher’s message. +</p> +<p> +“Well, talk, you damned grinning inquisitor!” was +Taylor’s greeting to the puncher. “What did she +say?” +</p> +<p> +“At first she didn’t seem to be a heap overjoyed to +know that you was in this country,” said the other; “but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +when she heard you’d been hurt she sort of stampeded, +invitin’ you to come an’ set on the porch with her.” +</p> +<p> +Taylor got up and started for the door, the bandaged +foot dragging clumsily. +</p> +<p> +“Shucks,” drawled the puncher; “if you go to <em>runnin’</em> +to her she’ll have suspicions. Accordin’ to my notion, +she expects you to come a hobblin’, same as though your +leg was broke. ‘Help him to come,’ she told me. An’ +you’re goin’ that way—you hear me! I’ll bust your +ankle with a club before I’ll have her think I’m a liar!” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe I <em>was</em> a little eager,” grinned Taylor. +</p> +<p> +An instant later he stepped out of the bunkhouse door, +leaning heavily on the puncher’s shoulder. +</p> +<p> +The two made slow progress to the porch; and Taylor’s +ascent to the porch and his final achievement of the +rocking-chair were accomplished slowly, with the assistance +of Miss Harlan. +</p> +<p> +Then, with a face almost the color of the scarlet +neckerchief he wore, Taylor watched the retreat of the +puncher. +</p> +<p> +His face became redder when Miss Harlan drew another +rocker close to his and demanded to be told the +story of the accident. +</p> +<p> +“My own fault,” declared Taylor. “I was in a hurry. +Accidents always happen that way, don’t they? Slipped +trying to swing on my horse, with him running. Missed +the stirrup. Clumsy, wasn’t it?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +</p> +<p> +Eager to keep his word, of course, Marion reasoned. +She had insisted that he be gone when she arrived, and +he had injured himself hurrying. +</p> +<p> +She watched him as he talked of the accident. And +now for the first time she understood why he had acquired +the nickname Squint. +</p> +<p> +His eyes were deep-set, though not small. He did not +really squint, for there was plenty of room between the +eyelids—which, by the way, were fringed with lashes +that might have been the envy of any woman; but there +were many little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, which +spread fanwise toward cheek and brow, and these created +the illusion of squinting. +</p> +<p> +Also, he had a habit of partially closing his eyes when +looking directly at one; and at such times they held a +twinkling glint that caused one to speculate over their +meaning. +</p> +<p> +Miss Harlan was certain the twinkle meant humor. +But other persons had been equally sure the twinkle meant +other emotions, or passion. Looking into Taylor’s eyes +in the dining-car, Carrington had decided they were filled +with cold, implacable hostility, with the promise of violence, +to himself. And yet the squint had not been +absent. +</p> +<p> +Whatever had been expressed in the eyes had been +sufficient to deter Carrington from his announced purpose +to “knock hell out of” their owner. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +</p> +<p> +The girl was aware that Taylor was not handsome; +that his attractions were not of a surface character. +Something about him struck deeper than that. A subtle +magnetism gripped her—the magnetism of strength, +moral and mental. In his eyes she could see the signs +of it; in the lines of his jaw and the set of his lips were +suggestions of indomitability and force. +</p> +<p> +All the visible signs were, however, glossed over with +the deep, slow humor that radiated from him, that glowed +in his eyes. +</p> +<p> +It all made her conscious of a great similarity between +them; for despite the doubts and suspicions of the people +of Westwood, she had been able to survive—and humor +had been the grace that had saved her from disappointment +and pessimism. Those other traits in Taylor—visible +to one who studied him—she knew for her own; +and her spirits now responded to his. +</p> +<p> +Her cheeks were glowing as she looked at him, and her +eyes, half veiled by the drooping lashes, were dancing +with mischief. +</p> +<p> +“You were in that hot bunkhouse all morning,” she +said. “Why didn’t you send word before?” +</p> +<p> +“You were careful to tell me that you didn’t want me +around when you came.” +</p> +<p> +There was a gleam of reproach in his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“But you were injured!” +</p> +<p> +“Look how things go in the world,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +he invited, narrowing his eyes at her. “It’s almost enough to make a +man let go all holds and just drift along. Maybe a man +would be just as well off. +</p> +<p> +“Early this morning I knew I had to light out for the +day, and I didn’t want to go any more than a gopher +wants to go into a rattlesnake’s den. But I had to keep +my word. Then Spotted Tail gets notions——” +</p> +<p> +“Spotted Tail?” she interrupted. +</p> +<p> +“My horse,” he grinned at her. “He gets notions. +Maybe he wants to get away as much as I want to stay. +Anyhow, he was in a hurry; and things shape up so that +I’ve got to stay. +</p> +<p> +“And then, when I hang around the bunkhouse all +morning, worrying because I’m afraid you’ll find out that +I didn’t keep my word, and that I’m still here, you send +word that you’ll not object to me coming on the porch +with you. I’d call that a misjudgment all around—on +my part.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes—it was that,” she told him. “You certainly +are entitled to the comforts of your own house—especially +when you are hurt. But are you sure you <em>worried</em> +because you were afraid I would discover you were +here?” +</p> +<p> +“I expect you can prove that by looking at me, Miss +Harlan—noticing that I’ve got thin and pale-looking +since you saw me last?” +</p> +<p> +She threw a demure glance at him. “I am afraid you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +are in great danger; you do not look nearly as well as +when I saw you, the first time, on the train.” +</p> +<p> +He looked gravely at her. +</p> +<p> +“The porter threw them out of the window,” he said. +“That is, I gave him orders to.” +</p> +<p> +“What?” she said, perplexed. “I don’t understand. +What did the porter throw out of the window?” +</p> +<p> +“My dude clothes,” he said. +</p> +<p> +So he <em>had</em> observed the ridicule in her eyes. +</p> +<p> +She met his gaze, and both laughed. +</p> +<p> +He had been curious about her all along, and he artfully +questioned her about Westwood, gradually drawing +from her the rather unexciting details of her life. Yet +these details were chiefly volunteered, Taylor noticed, +and did not result entirely from his questions. +</p> +<p> +Carrington’s name came into the discussion, also, and +Parsons. Taylor discovered that Carrington and Parsons +had been partners in many business deals, and that +they had come to Dawes because the town offered many +possibilities. The girl quoted Carrington’s words; Taylor +was convinced that she knew nothing of the character of +the business the men had come to Dawes to transact. +</p> +<p> +Their talk strayed to minor subjects and to those of +great importance, ranging from a discussion of prairie +hens to sage comment upon certain abstruse philosophy. +Always, however, the personal note was dominant and +the personal interest acute. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +</p> +<p> +That atmosphere—the deep interest of each for the +other—made their conversation animated. For half the +time the girl paid no attention to Taylor’s words. She +watched him when he talked, noting the various shades +of expression of his eyes, the curve of his lips, wondering +at the deep music of his voice. She marveled that at +first she had thought him uninteresting and plain. +</p> +<p> +For she had discovered that he was rather good-looking; +that he was endowed with a natural instinct to reach +accurate and logical conclusions; that he was quiet-mannered +and polite—and a gentleman. Her first impressions +of him had not been correct, for during their talk +she discovered through casual remarks, that Taylor had +been educated with some care, that his ancestors were of +that sturdy American stock which had made the settling +of the eastern New-World wilderness possible, and that +there was in his manner the unmistakable gentleness of +good breeding. +</p> +<p> +However, Taylor’s first impressions of the girl had +endured without amendations. At a glance he had yielded +to the spell of her, and the intimate and informal conversation +carried on between them; the flashes of personality +he caught merely served to convince him of her +desirability. +</p> +<p> +Twice during their talk Martha cleared her throat significantly +and loudly, trying to attract their attention. +</p> +<p> +The efforts bore no fruit, and Martha might have been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +entirely forgotten if she had not finally got to her feet +and laid a hand on Marion’s shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“I’s gwine to lie down a spell, honey,” she said. “You-all +don’t need no third party to entertain you. An’ I’s +powerful tiahd.” And over the girl’s shoulder she smiled +broadly and sympathetically at Taylor. +</p> +<p> +The sun was filling the western level with a glowing, +golden haze when Miss Harlan got to her feet and +announced that she was going home. +</p> +<p> +“It’s the first day I have really enjoyed,” she told +Taylor as she sat in the saddle, looking at him. He had +got up and was standing at the porch edge. “That is, it +is the first enjoyable day I have passed since I have been +here,” she added. +</p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t say that I’ve been exactly bored myself,” +he grinned at her. “But I’m not so sure about Friday; +for if you come Friday the chances are that my ankle +will be well again, and I’ll have to make myself scarce. +You see, my excuse will be gone.” +</p> +<p> +Martha was sitting on her horse close by, and her eyes +were dancing. +</p> +<p> +“Don’ you go an’ bust your haid, Mr. Taylor!” she +warned. “I knows somebuddy that would be powerful +sorry if that would happen to you!” +</p> +<p> +“Martha!” said Marion severely. But her eyes were +eloquent as they met Taylor’s twinkling ones; and she +saw a deep color come into Taylor’s cheeks. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +</p> +<p> +Taylor watched her until she grew dim in the distance; +then he turned and faced the tall young puncher, who +had stepped upon the porch and had been standing near. +</p> +<p> +The puncher grinned. “Takin’ ’em off now, boss?” +he asked. +</p> +<p> +He pointed to the bandages on Taylor’s right foot. +In one of the young puncher’s hands was Taylor’s right +boot. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” returned Taylor. +</p> +<p> +He sat down in the rocker he had occupied all afternoon, +and the young puncher removed the bandages, revealing +Taylor’s bare foot and ankle, with no bruise or +swelling to mar the white skin. +</p> +<p> +Taylor drew on the sock which the puncher drew from +the boot; then he pulled on the boot and stood up. +</p> +<p> +The puncher was grinning hugely, but no smile was on +Taylor’s face. +</p> +<p> +“It worked, boss,” said the puncher; “she didn’t +tumble. I thought I’d laff my head off when I seen her +fixin’ the pillow for you—an’ your foot not hurt more +than mine. You ought to be plumb tickled, pullin’ off a +trick like that!” +</p> +<p> +“I ain’t a heap tickled,” declared Taylor glumly. +“There’s no fun in fooling <em>her</em>!” +</p> +<p> +Which indicated that Taylor’s thoughts were now +serious. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span><a name='chXII' id='chXII'></a>CHAPTER XII—LIFTING THE MASK</h2> +<p> +Elam Parsons awoke early in the morning following +that on which Marion Harlan’s visit to the +Arrow occurred. He lay for a long time smiling at the +ceiling, with a feeling that something pleasurable was in +store for him, but not able to determine what that something +was. +</p> +<p> +It was not long, however, before Parsons remembered. +</p> +<p> +When he had got out of bed the previous morning he +had discovered the absence of Marion and Martha. Also, +he found that two of the horses were missing—Marion’s, +and one of the others he had personally bought. +</p> +<p> +Parsons spent the day in Dawes. Shortly before dusk +he got on his horse and rode homeward. Dismounting +at the stable, he noted that the two absent horses had not +come in. He grinned disagreeably and went into the +house. He emerged almost instantly, for Marion and +Martha had not returned. +</p> +<p> +Later he saw them, Marion leading, coming up the +slope that led to the level upon which the house stood. +</p> +<p> +Marion had retired early, and after she had gone to her +room Parsons had questioned Martha. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +</p> +<p> +Twice while getting into his clothes this morning Parsons +chuckled audibly. There was malicious amusement +in the sound. +</p> +<p> +Once he caught himself saying aloud: +</p> +<p> +“I knew it would come, sooner or later. And she’s +picked out the clodhopper! This will tickle Carrington!” +</p> +<p> +Again he laughed—such a laugh as the good people +of Westwood might have used had they known what +Parsons knew—that Marion Harlan had visited a +stranger at his ranchhouse—a lonely place, far from +prying eyes. +</p> +<p> +Parsons hated the girl as heartily as he had hated her +father. He hated her because of her close resemblance to +her parent; and he had hated Larry Harlan ever since +their first meeting. +</p> +<p> +Parsons likewise had no affection for Carrington. +They had been business associates for many years, and +their association had been profitable for both; but there +was none of that respect and admiration which marks +many partnerships. +</p> +<p> +On several occasions Carrington had betrayed greediness +in the division of the spoils of their ventures. But +Carrington was the strong man, ruthless and determined, +and Parsons was forced to nurse his resentment in silence. +He meant some day, however, to repay Carrington, and +he lost no opportunity to harass him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +And yet it had been Parsons who had brought Carrington +to Westwood two years before. He knew Carrington; +he knew something of the big man’s way with +women, of his merciless treatment of them. And he had +invited Carrington to Westwood, hoping that the big +man would add Marion Harlan to his list of victims. +</p> +<p> +So far, Carrington had made little progress. This fact, +contrary to Parsons’ principles, had afforded the man +secret enjoyment. He liked to see Carrington squirm +under disappointment. He anticipated much pleasure in +watching Carrington’s face when he should tell him where +Marion had been the day before. +</p> +<p> +He breakfasted alone—early—chuckling his joy. +And shortly after he left the table he was on a horse, +riding toward Dawes. +</p> +<p> +He reached town about eight and went directly to Carrington’s +rooms in the Castle. +</p> +<p> +Carrington had shaved and washed, and was sitting at +a front window, coatless, his hair uncombed, when +Parsons knocked on the door. +</p> +<p> +“You’re back, eh?” said Parsons as he took a chair +near the window. “Danforth was telling me you went +to see the governor. Did you fix it?” +</p> +<p> +Carrington grinned. “Taylor was to take the oath +today. He won’t take it—at least, not the sort of oath +he expected.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s lucky you knew the governor.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +</p> +<p> +“H-m.” The grim grunt indicated that, governor or +no governor, Carrington would not be denied. +</p> +<p> +Parsons smirked. But Carrington detected an unusual +quality in the smirk—something more than satisfaction +over the success of the visit to the governor. There was +malicious amusement in the smirk, and anticipation. Parsons’ +expressed satisfaction was not over what <em>had</em> happened, +but over what was <em>going</em> to happen. +</p> +<p> +Carrington knew Parsons, and therefore Carrington +gave no sign of what he had seen in Parsons’ face. He +talked of Dawes and of their own prospects. But once, +when Carrington mentioned Marion Harlan, quite casually, +he noted that Parsons’ eyes widened. +</p> +<p> +But Parsons said nothing on the subject which had +brought him until he had talked for half an hour. Then, +noting that his manner had aroused Carrington’s interest, +he said softly: +</p> +<p> +“This man, Taylor, seems destined to get in your way, +doesn’t he?” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” demanded Carrington shortly. +</p> +<p> +“Do you remember telling me—on the train, with this +man, Taylor, listening—that your story to Marion, of +her father having been seen in this locality, was a fairy +tale—without foundation?” +</p> +<p> +At Carrington’s nod Parsons continued: +</p> +<p> +“Well, it seems it was not a fairy tale, after all. For +Larry Harlan was in his section for two or three years!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +</p> +<p> +“Who told you that?” Carrington slid forward in +his chair and was looking hard at Parsons. +</p> +<p> +Parsons was enjoying the other’s astonishment, and +Parsons was not to be hurried—he wanted to <em>taste</em> the +flavor of his news; it was as good to his palate as a choice +morsel of food to the palate of a disciple of Epicurus. +</p> +<p> +“It came in a sort of roundabout way, I understand,” +said Parsons. “It seems that during your absence Marion +made a number of inquiries about her father. Then a +man named Ben Mullarky rode over to the house and +told her that Larry had been in this country—that he +had worked for the Arrow.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s Taylor’s ranch,” said Carrington. A deep +scowl furrowed his forehead; his lips extended in a sullen +pout. +</p> +<p> +Parsons was enjoying him. “Taylor again, eh?” he +said softly. “First, he appears on the train, where he +gets an earful of something we don’t want him to hear; +then he is elected mayor, which is detrimental to our interests; +then we discover that Larry Harlan worked for +him. <em>You’ll</em> be interested to know that Marion went +right over to the Arrow—in fact, she spent part of Monday +there, and practically <em>all</em> of yesterday. More, Taylor +has invited her to come whenever she wants to.” +</p> +<p> +“She went alone?” demanded Carrington. +</p> +<p> +“With Martha, my negro housekeeper. But that—” +Parsons made a gesture of derision and went on: “Martha +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +says Taylor was there with her, and that the two of +them—with Martha asleep in the house—spent the +entire afternoon on the porch, talking rather intimately.” +</p> +<p> +To Parsons’ surprise Carrington did not betray the +perturbation Parsons expected. The scowl was still furrowing +his forehead, his lips were still in the sullen pout; +but he said nothing, looking steadily at Parsons. +</p> +<p> +At last his lips moved slightly; Parsons could see the +clenched teeth between them. +</p> +<p> +“Where’s Larry Harlan now?” +</p> +<p> +Parsons related the story told him by Martha—which +had been imparted to the negro woman by Marion in +confidence—that Larry Harlan had been accidentally +killed, searching for a mine. +</p> +<p> +When Parsons finished Carrington got up. There +was a grin on his face as he stepped to where Parsons sat +and placed his two hands heavily on the other’s shoulders. +</p> +<p> +There was a grin on his face, but his eyes were agleam +with a slumbering passion that made Parsons catch his +breath with a gasp. And his voice, low, and freighted +with menace, caused Parsons to quake with terror. +</p> +<p> +“Parsons,” he said, “I want you to understand this: +I am going to be the law out here. I’ll run things to suit +myself. I’ll have no half-hearted loyalty, and I’ll destroy +any man who opposes me! Those who are not with me +to the last gasp are against me!” He laughed, and Parsons +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +felt the man’s hot breath on his face—so close was +it to his own. +</p> +<p> +“I was born a thousand years too late, Parsons!” he +went on. “I am a robber baron brought down to date—modernized. +I believe that in me flows the blood of a +pirate, a savage, or an ancient king; I have all the instincts +of a tribal chief whose principles are to rule or ruin! +I’ll have no law out here but my own desires; and hypocrisy—in +others—doesn’t appeal to me! +</p> +<p> +“You’ve told me a tale that interested me, but in the +telling of it you made one mistake—you enjoyed the discomfiture +you thought it would give me. You tingled +with malice. Just to show you that I’ll not tolerate disloyalty +from you—even in thought—I’m going to +punish you.” +</p> +<p> +He dropped his big hands to Parsons’ throat, shutting +off the incipient scream that issued from between +the man’s lips. Parsons fought with all his strength to +escape the grip of the iron fingers at his throat, twisting +and squirming frenziedly in the chair. But the fingers +tightened their grip, and when the man’s face began to +turn blue-black, Carrington released him and looked down +at his victim, laughing vibrantly. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span><a name='chXIII' id='chXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII—THE SHADOW OF TROUBLE</h2> +<p> +Elam recovered slowly, for Carrington had choked +him into unconsciousness. Out of the blank, dark +coma Parsons came, his brain reeling, his body racked +with agonizing pains. His hands went to his throat +before he could open his eyes; he pulled at the flesh to +ease the constriction that still existed there; he caught +his breath in great gasps that shrilled through the room. +And when at last he succeeded in getting his breath to +come regularly, he opened his eyes and saw Carrington +seated in a chair near him, watching him with a cold, +speculative smile. +</p> +<p> +He heard Carrington’s voice saying: “Pretty close, +wasn’t it, Parsons?” But he did not answer; his vocal +cords were still partially paralyzed. +</p> +<p> +He closed his eyes again and stretched out in the chair. +Carrington thought he had fainted, but Parsons was +merely resting—and thinking. +</p> +<p> +His thoughts were not pleasant. Many times during +the years of their association he had seen the beast in +Carrington’s eyes, but this was the first time Carrington +had even shown it in his presence, naked and ugly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +Carrington had told him many times that were he not hemmed +in with laws and courts he would tramp ruthlessly over +every obstacle that got in his way; and Parsons knew +now that the man had meant what he said. The beast in +him was rampant; his passions were to have free rein; +he had thrown off the shackles of civilization and was +prepared to do murder to attain his aims. +</p> +<p> +Parsons realized his own precarious predicament. Carrington +controlled every cent Parsons owned—it was in +the common pool, which was in Carrington’s charge. +Parsons might leave Dawes, but his money must stay—Carrington +would never give it up. More, Parsons was +now afraid to ask for an accounting or a division, for +fear Carrington would kill him. +</p> +<p> +Parsons knew he must stay in Dawes, and that from +now on he must play lackey to the master who, at last in +an environment that suited him, had so ruthlessly demonstrated +his principles. +</p> +<p> +In a spirit of abject surrender Parsons again opened +his eyes and sat up. Carrington rose and again stood +over him. +</p> +<p> +“You understand now, Parsons, I’m running things. +You stay in the background. If you interfere with me +I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you if you laugh at me again. Your +job out here is to take care of Marion Harlan. You’re to +keep her here. If she gets away I’ll manhandle you! +Now get out of here!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +</p> +<p> +An hour later Parsons was sitting on the front porch +of the big house, staring vacantly out into the big level +below him, his heart full of hatred and impotent resentment; +his brain, formerly full of craft and guile, now +temporarily atrophied through its attempts to comprehend +the new character of the man who had throttled him. +</p> +<p> +In Dawes, Carrington was getting into his clothing. +He was smiling, his eyes glowing with grim satisfaction. +At nine o’clock Carrington descended the stairs, stopped +in the hotel lobby to light a cigar; then crossed the street +and went into the courthouse, where he was greeted +effusively by Judge Littlefield. Quinton Taylor, too, was +going to the courthouse. +</p> +<p> +This morning at ten o’clock, according to information +received from Neil Norton—sent to Taylor by messenger +the night before—Taylor was to take the oath of office. +</p> +<p> +Taylor was conscious of the honor bestowed upon him +by the people of Dawes, though at first he had demurred, +pointing out that he was not actually a resident of the +town—the Arrow lying seven miles southward. But +this objection had been met and dismissed by his friends, +who had insisted that he was a resident of the town by +virtue of his large interests there, and from the fact that +he occupied an apartment above the Dawes bank, and +that he spent more time in it than he spent in the Arrow +ranchhouse. +</p> +<p> +But on the ride to Dawes—on Spotted Tail—(this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +morning wonderfully docile despite Tuesday’s slander by +his master)—Taylor’s thoughts dwelt not upon the honor +that was to be his, but upon the questionable trick he had +played on Marion Harlan, with the able assistance of the +tall young puncher, Bud Hemmingway. +</p> +<p> +He looked down at the foot, now unbandaged, with a +frown. The girl’s complete and matter-of-fact belief in +the story of his injury; her sympathy and deep concern; +the self-accusation in her eyes; the instant pardon she +had granted him for staying at the ranchhouse when he +should not have stayed—all these he arrayed against the +bald fact that he had tricked her. And he felt decidedly +guilty. +</p> +<p> +And yet somehow there was some justification for the +trick. It was the justification of desire. The things a +man wants are not to be denied by the narrow standards +of custom. Does a man miss an opportunity to establish +acquaintance with a girl he has fallen in love with, merely +because custom has decreed that she shall not come +unattended—save by a negro woman—to his house? +</p> +<p> +Taylor made desire his justification, and his sense of +guilt was dispelled by half. +</p> +<p> +Nor was the guilt so poignant that it rested heavily on +his conscience since he had done no harm to the girl. +</p> +<p> +What harm had been done had been done to Taylor +himself. He kept seeing Marion as she sat on the porch, +and the spell of her had seized him so firmly that last +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +night, after she had left, the ranchhouse had seemed to be +nothing more than four walls out of which all the life had +gone. He felt lonesome this morning, and was in the +grip of a nameless longing. +</p> +<p> +All the humor had departed from him. For the first +time in all his days a conception of the meaning of life +assailed him, revealing to him a glimpse of the difficulties +of a man in love. For a man may love a girl: his difficulties +begin when the girl seems to become unattainable. +</p> +<p> +Looming large in Taylor’s thoughts this morning was +Carrington. Having overheard Carrington talking of +her on the train, Taylor thought he knew what Carrington +wanted; but he was in doubt regarding the state of +the girl’s feelings toward the man. Had she yielded to +the man’s intense personal magnetism? +</p> +<p> +Carrington was handsome; there was no doubt that +almost any girl would be flattered by his attentions. And +had Carrington been worthy of Marion, Taylor would +have entertained no hope of success—he would not even +have thought of it. +</p> +<p> +But he had overheard Carrington; he knew the man’s +nature was vile and bestial; and already he hated him +with a fervor that made his blood riot when he thought +of him. +</p> +<p> +When he reached Dawes he found himself hoping that +Marion would not be in town to see that his ankle was +unbandaged. But he might have saved himself that throb +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +of perturbation, for at that minute Marion was standing +in the front room of the big house, looking out of one +of the windows at Parsons, wondering what had happened +to make him seem so glum and abstracted. +</p> +<p> +When Taylor dismounted in front of the courthouse +there were several men grouped on the sidewalk near the +door. +</p> +<p> +Neil Norton was in the group, and he came forward, +smiling. +</p> +<p> +“We’re here to witness the ceremony,” he told Taylor. +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s greeting to the other men was not that of the +professional politician. He merely grinned at them and +returned a short: “Well, let’s get it over with,” to Norton’s +remark. Then, followed by his friends, he entered +the courthouse. +</p> +<p> +Taylor knew Judge Littlefield. He had no admiration +for the man, and yet his greeting was polite and +courteous—it was the greeting of an American citizen +to an official. +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s first quick glance about the interior of the +courthouse showed him Carrington. The latter was sitting +in an armchair near a window toward the rear of +the room. He smiled as Taylor’s glance swept him, but +Taylor might not have seen the smile. For Taylor was +deeply interested in other things. +</p> +<p> +A conception of the serious responsibility that he was +to accept assailed him. Until now the thing had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +entirely personal; his thoughts had centered upon the +honor that was to be his—his friends had selected him +for an important position. And yet Taylor was not vain. +</p> +<p> +Now, however, ready to accept the oath of office, he +realized that he was to become the servant of the municipality; +that these friends of his had elected him not +merely to honor him but because they trusted him, because +they were convinced that he would administer the +affairs of the young town capably and in a fair and impartial +manner. They depended upon him for justice, +advice, and guidance. +</p> +<p> +All these things, to be sure, Taylor would give them +to the best of his ability. They must have known that +or they would not have elected him. +</p> +<p> +These thoughts sobered him as he walked to the little +wooden railing in front of the judge’s desk; and his face +was grave as he looked at the other. +</p> +<p> +“I am ready to take the oath, Judge Littlefield,” he +gravely announced. +</p> +<p> +Glancing sidewise, Taylor saw that a great many men +had come into the room. He did not turn to look at +them, however, for he saw a gleam in Judge Littlefield’s +eyes that held his attention. +</p> +<p> +“That will not be necessary, Mr. Taylor,” he heard +the judge say. “The governor, through the attorney-general, +has ruled you were not legally elected to the office +you aspire to. Only last night I was notified of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +decision. It was late, or I should have taken steps to apprise +you of the situation.” +</p> +<p> +Taylor straightened. He heard exclamations from +many men in the room; he was conscious of a tension +that had come into the atmosphere. Some men scuffled +their feet; and then there was a deep silence. +</p> +<p> +Taylor smiled without mirth. His dominant emotion +was curiosity. +</p> +<p> +“Not legally elected?” he said. “Why?” +</p> +<p> +The judge passed a paper to Taylor; it was one of those +that had been delivered to the judge by Carrington. +</p> +<p> +The judge did not meet Taylor’s eyes. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll find a full statement of the case, there,” +he said. “Briefly, however, the governor finds that your +name did not appear on the ballots.” +</p> +<p> +Norton, who had been standing at Taylor’s side all +along, now shoved his way to the railing and leaned over +it, his face white with wrath. +</p> +<p> +“There’s something wrong here, Judge Littlefield!” he +charged. “Taylor’s name was on every ballot that was +counted for him. I personally examined every ballot!” +</p> +<p> +The judge smiled tolerantly, almost benignantly. +</p> +<p> +“Of course—to be sure,” he said. “Mr. Taylor’s +name appeared on a good many ballots; his friends <em>wrote</em> +it, with pencil, and otherwise. But the law expressly +states that a candidate’s name must be <em>printed</em>. Therefore, +obeying the letter of the law, the governor has ruled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +that Mr. Taylor was not elected.” There was malicious +satisfaction in Judge Littlefield’s eyes as they met Taylor’s. +Taylor could see that the judge was in entire +sympathy with the influences that were opposing him, +though the judge tried, with a grave smile, to create an +impression of impartiality. +</p> +<p> +“Under the governor’s ruling, therefore,” he continued, +“and acting under explicit directions from the +attorney-general, I am empowered to administer the oath +of office to the legally elected candidate, David Danforth. +Now, if Mr. Danforth is in the courtroom, and +will come forward, we shall conclude.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Danforth was in the courtroom; he was sitting +near Carrington; and he came forward, his face slightly +flushed, with the gaze of every person in the room on +him. +</p> +<p> +He smiled apologetically at Taylor as he reached the +railing, extending a hand. +</p> +<p> +“I’m damned sorry, Taylor,” he declared. “This is +all a surprise to me. I hadn’t any doubt that they would +swear you in. No hard feelings?” +</p> +<p> +Taylor had been conscious of the humiliation of his +position. He knew that his friends would expect him +to fight. And yet he felt more like gracefully yielding +to the forces which had barred him from office upon the +basis of so slight a technicality. And despite the knowledge +that he had been robbed of the office, he would have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +taken Danforth’s hand, had he not at that instant chanced +to glance at Carrington. +</p> +<p> +The latter’s eyes were aglow with a vindictive triumph; +as his gaze met Taylor’s, his lips curved with a +sneer. +</p> +<p> +A dark passion seized Taylor—the bitter, savage rage +of jealousy. The antagonism he had felt for Carrington +that day on the train when he had heard Carrington’s +voice for the first time was suddenly intensified. It had +been growing slowly, provoked by his knowledge of the +man’s evil designs on Marion Harlan. But now there +had come into the first antagonism a gripping lust to +injure the other, a determination to balk him, to defeat +him, to meet him on his own ground and crush him. +</p> +<p> +For Carrington’s sneer had caused the differences between +them to become sharply personal; it would make +the fight that was brewing between the two men not a +political fight, but a fight of the spirit. +</p> +<p> +Taylor interpreted the sneer as a challenge, and he accepted +it. His eyes gleamed with hatred unmistakable +as they held Carrington’s; and the grin on his lips was +the cold, unhumorous grin of the fighter who is not dismayed +by odds. His voice was low and sharp, and it +carried to every person in the room: +</p> +<p> +“We won’t shake, Danforth; you are not particular +enough about the character of your friends!” +</p> +<p> +The look was significant, and it compelled the eyes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +of all of Taylor’s friends, so that Carrington instantly +found himself the center of interest. +</p> +<p> +However, he did not change color; on his face a bland +smile testified to his entire indifference to what Taylor +or Taylor’s friends thought of him. +</p> +<p> +Taylor grinned mirthlessly at the judge, spoke shortly +to Norton, and led the way out through the front door, +followed by a number of his friends. +</p> +<p> +Norton took Taylor into his office, adjoining the courthouse, +and threw himself into a chair, grumbling profanely. +Outside they could see the crowd filing down the +street, voicing its opinion of the startling proceeding. +</p> +<p> +“An election is an election,” they heard one man say—a +Taylor sympathizer. “What difference does it make +that Taylor’s name wasn’t <em>printed</em>? It’s a dawg-gone +frame-up, that’s what it is!” +</p> +<p> +But Danforth’s adherents were not lacking; and there +were arguments in loud, vigorous language among men +who passed the door of the <em>Eagle</em> office. +</p> +<p> +“I could have printed the damned ballots, myself—if +I had thought it necessary,” mourned Norton. “And now +we’re skinned out of it!” +</p> +<p> +Norton’s disgust was complete and bitter; he had slid +down in the chair, his chin on his chest, his hands shoved +deep into the pockets of his trousers. +</p> +<p> +Yet his dejection had not infected Taylor; the latter’s +lips were curved in a faint smile, ironic and saturnine. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +It was plain to Norton that whatever humor there was +in the situation was making its appeal to Taylor. The +thought angered Norton, and he sat up, demanding +sharply: “Well, what in hell are you going to do +about it?” +</p> +<p> +Taylor grinned at the other. “Nothing, now,” he said. +“We might appeal to the courts, but if the law specifies +that a candidate’s name must be printed, the courts would +sustain the governor. It looks to me, Norton, as though +Carrington and Danforth have the cards stacked.” +</p> +<p> +Norton groaned and again slid down into his chair. +He heard Taylor go out, but he did not change his position. +He sat there with his eyes closed, profanely accusing +himself, for he alone was to blame for the complete +defeat that had descended upon his candidate; and he +could not expect Taylor to fight a law which, though +unjust and arbitrary, was the only law in the Territory. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had not gone far. He stepped into the door +of the courthouse, to meet Carrington, who was coming +out. Danforth and Judge Littlefield were talking animatedly +in the rear of the room. They ceased talking +when they saw Taylor, and faced toward him, looking +at him wonderingly. +</p> +<p> +Carrington halted just inside the threshold of the doorway, +and he, too, watched Taylor curiously, though there +was a bland, sneering smile on his face. +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s smile as he looked at the men was still faintly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +ironic, and his eyes were agleam with a light that baffled +the other men—they could not determine just what +emotion they reflected. +</p> +<p> +And Taylor’s manner was as quietly deliberate and +nonchalant as though he had merely stepped into the +room for a social visit. His gaze swept the three men. +</p> +<p> +“Framing up—again, eh?” he said, with drawling +emphasis. “You sure did a good job for a starter. I +just stepped in to say a few words to you—all of you. +To you first, Littlefield.” And now his eyes held the +judge—they seemed to squint genially at the man. +</p> +<p> +“I happen to know that our big, sleek four-flusher +here”—nodding toward Carrington—“came here to +loot Dawes. Quite accidentally, I overheard him boasting +of his intentions. Danforth was sent here by Carrington +more than a year ago to line things up, politically. +I don’t know how many are in the game—and I don’t +care. You are in it, Littlefield. I saw that by the delight +you took in informing me of the decision of the attorney-general. +I just stepped in to tell you that I know what is +going on, and to warn you that you can’t do it! You had +better pull out before you make an ass of yourself, +Littlefield!” +</p> +<p> +The judge’s face was crimson. “This is an outrage, +Taylor!” he sputtered. “I’ll have you jailed for contempt +of court!” +</p> +<p> +“Not you!” gibed Taylor, calmly. “You haven’t the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +nerve! I’d like nothing better than to have you do it. +You’re a little fuzzy dog that doesn’t crawl out of its +kennel until it hears the snap of its master’s fingers! +That’s all for you!” +</p> +<p> +He grinned at Danforth, felinely, and the man flushed +under the odd gleam in the eyes that held his. +</p> +<p> +“I can classify you with one word, Dave,” he declared; +“you’re a crook! That lets you out; you do what +you are told!” +</p> +<p> +He now ignored the others and faced Carrington. +</p> +<p> +His grin faded quickly, the lips stiffening. But still +there was a hint of cold humor in his manner that created +the impression that he was completely in earnest; that he +was keenly enjoying himself and that he did not feel +at all tragic. And yet, underlying the mask of humor, +Carrington saw the passionate hatred Taylor felt for +him. +</p> +<p> +Carrington sneered. He attempted to smile, but the +malevolent bitterness of his passions turned the smile +into a hideous smirk. He had hated Taylor at first sight; +and now, with the jealousy provoked by the knowledge +that Taylor had turned his eyes toward Marion Harlan, +the hatred had become a lust to destroy the other. +</p> +<p> +Before Taylor could speak, Carrington stepped toward +him, thrusting his face close to Taylor’s. The man was +in the grip of a mighty rage that bloated his face, that +made his breath come in great labored gasps. He had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +not meant to so boldly betray his hatred, but the violence +of his passions drove him on. +</p> +<p> +He knew that Taylor was baiting him, mocking him, +taunting him; that Taylor’s words to the judge and to +Danforth had been uttered with the grimly humorous +purpose of arousing the men to some unwise and precipitate +action; he knew that Taylor was enjoying the +confusion he had brought. +</p> +<p> +But Carrington had lost his self-control. +</p> +<p> +Without a word, but with a smothered imprecation that +issued gutturally from between his clenched teeth, he +swung a fist with bitter malignance at Taylor’s face. +</p> +<p> +The blow did not land, for Taylor, self-possessed and +alert, had been expecting it. He slipped his head sidewise +slightly, evading the fist by a narrow margin, and, tensed, +his muscles taut, he drove his own right fist upward, +heavily. +</p> +<p> +Carrington, reeling forward under the impetus of the +force he had expended, ran fairly into the fist. It crashed +to the point of his jaw and he was unconscious, rigid, +and upright on his feet in the instant before he sagged +and tumbled headlong out through the open doorway +into the street. +</p> +<p> +With a bound, his face set in a mirthless grin, Taylor +was after him, landing beyond him in the windrowed dust +at the edge of the sidewalk, ready and willing to administer +further punishment. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span><a name='chXIV' id='chXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV—THE FACE OF A FIGHTER</h2> +<p> +Slouching in his chair, in an attitude of complete +dejection, Neil Norton was glumly digesting the +dregs of defeat. +</p> +<p> +The <em>Eagle</em> office adjoined the courthouse. Both were +one-story frame structures, flimsy, with one thin wall between +them; and to Norton’s ears as he sat with his +unpleasant thoughts, came the sound of voices, muffled, +but resonant. Someone was speaking with force and +insistence. Norton attuned his ears to the voice. It was +then he discovered there was only one voice, and that +Taylor’s. +</p> +<p> +He sat erect, both hands gripping the arms of his chair. +Then he got up, walked to the front door of the <em>Eagle</em> +office, and looked out. He was just in time to see Carrington +tumble out through the door of the courthouse +and land heavily on the sidewalk in front of the building. +Immediately afterward he saw Taylor follow. +</p> +<p> +Norton exclaimed his astonishment, and he saw Taylor +turn toward him, a broad, mirthless grin on his face. +</p> +<p> +“Good Heavens!” breathed Norton, “he’s started a +ruckus!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +</p> +<p> +Taylor had not moved. He was looking at Norton +when a man leaped from the door of the courthouse, +straight at him. It was Danforth, his face hideous with +rage. +</p> +<p> +Taylor sensed the movement, wheeled, stumbled, and +lost his balance just as Danforth crashed against him. +The two men went down in a heap into the deep dust +of the street, rolling over and over. +</p> +<p> +Danforth’s impetus had given him the initial advantage, +and he was making the most of it. His fists were +working into Taylor’s face as they rolled in the dust, +his arms swinging like flails. Taylor, caught almost unprepared, +could not get into a position to defend himself. +He shielded his face somewhat by holding his chin close +to his chest and hunching his shoulders up; but Danforth +landed some blows. +</p> +<p> +There came an instant, however, when Taylor’s surprise +over the assault changed to resentment over the punishment +he was receiving. He had struck Carrington in +self-defense, and he had not expected the attack by +Danforth. +</p> +<p> +Norton, also surprised, saw that his friend was at a +disadvantage, and he was running forward to help him +when he saw Taylor roll on top of Danforth. +</p> +<p> +To Norton’s astonishment, Taylor did not seem to be +in a vicious humor, despite the blows Danforth had landed +on him. Taylor came out of the smother with a grin on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +his face, wide and exultant, and distinctly visible to +Norton in spite of the streaks of dust that covered it. +Taylor shook his head, his hair erupting a heavy cloud. +Then he got up, permitting Danforth to do likewise. +</p> +<p> +Regaining his feet, Danforth threw himself headlong +toward Taylor, cursing, his face working with malignant +rage. When Taylor hit him the dust flew from Danforth’s +clothes as it rolls from a dirty carpet flayed with a +beater. Danforth halted, his knees sagged, his head wabbled. +But Taylor gave him a slight respite, and he came +on again. +</p> +<p> +This time Taylor met him with a smother of sharp, +deadening uppercuts that threw the man backward, his +mouth open, his eyes closed. He fell, sagging backward, +his knees unjointed, without a sound. +</p> +<p> +And now Norton was not the only spectator. Far up +the street a man had emerged from a doorway. He saw +the erupting volcanoes of dust in the street, and he ran +back, shouting, “Fight! Fight!” +</p> +<p> +Dawes had seen many fights, and had grown accustomed +to them. But there is always novelty in another, +and long before Danforth had received the blows that had +rendered him inactive, nearly all the doors of Dawes’s +buildings were vomiting men. They came, seemingly, in +endless streams, in groups, in twos and singly, eager, excited, +all the streams converging at the street in front +of the courthouse. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +</p> +<p> +Mindful of the ethics in an affair of this kind, the +crowd kept considerately at a distance, permitting the +fighting men to continue at their work without interference, +with plenty of room for their energetic movements. +</p> +<p> +Word ran from lip to lip that Taylor, stung by the +knowledge that he had been robbed of the office to which +he had been elected, had attacked Carrington and Danforth +with the grim purpose of punishing them personally +for their misdeeds. +</p> +<p> +Taylor was aware of the gathering crowd. When he +had delivered the blows that had finished his political +rival, he saw the dense mass of men in the street around +him; and he felt that all Dawes had assembled. +</p> +<p> +There was still no rancor in Taylor’s heart; the same +savage humor which had driven him into the courthouse +to acquaint Carrington and the others with his knowledge +of their designs, still gripped him. He had not meant +to force a fight, but neither had he any intention of permitting +Carrington and Danforth to inflict physical punishment +upon him. +</p> +<p> +But a malicious devil had seized him. He knew that +what he had done would be magnified and distorted by +Carrington, Danforth, and the judge; that they would +charge him with the blame for it; that he faced the probability +of a jail sentence for defending himself. And he +was determined to complete the work he had started. +</p> +<p> +Therefore, having disposed of Danforth, he grinned at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +the eager, excited faces that hemmed him about, and +wheeled toward Carrington. +</p> +<p> +He was just in time. For Carrington, not badly hurt +by Taylor’s blow, which had catapulted him out of the +door of the courthouse, had been standing back a little, +awaiting an opportunity. The swiftness of Taylor’s +movements had prevented interference by Carrington; but +now, with Danforth down, Carrington saw his chance. +</p> +<p> +Without a word, Carrington lunged forward. They +met with a shock that caused the dry dust to splay and +spume upward and outward in thin, minute streaks like +the leaping, spraying waters of a fountain. They were +lost, momentarily, in a haze, as the dust fell and enveloped +them. +</p> +<p> +They emerged from the blot presently, Carrington staggering, +his chin on his chest, his eyes glazed—Taylor +crowding him closely. For while they had been lost in +the smother of dust, Taylor had landed a deadening +uppercut on the big man’s chin. +</p> +<p> +The big man’s brain was befogged; and yet he still +retained presence of mind enough to shield his chin from +another of those terrific blows. He had crossed his arms +over the lower part of his face, fending off Taylor’s fists +with his elbows. +</p> +<p> +A Danforth man in the crowd called on Carrington to +“wallop” Taylor, and the big man’s answering grin indicated +that he was not as badly hurt as he seemed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +</p> +<p> +Almost instantly he demonstrated that, for when Taylor, +still following him, momentarily left an opening, +Carrington stepped quickly forward and struck—his big +arm flashing out with amazing rapidity. +</p> +<p> +The heavy fist landed high on Taylor’s head above +the ear. It was not a blow that would have finished the +fight, even had it landed lower, but it served to warn +Taylor that his antagonist was still strong, and he went +in more warily. +</p> +<p> +The advantage of the fight was all with Taylor. For +Taylor was cool and deliberate, while Carrington, raging +over the blows he had received, and in the clutch of a bitter +desire to destroy his enemy, wasted much energy in +swinging wildly. +</p> +<p> +The inaccuracy of Carrington’s hitting amused Taylor; +the men in the crowd about him could see his lips writhing +in a vicious smile at Carrington’s efforts. +</p> +<p> +Carrington landed some blows. But he had lived luxuriously +during the later years of his life; his muscles +had deteriorated, and though he was still strong, his +strength was not to be compared with that of the +out-of-door man whose clean and simple habits had +toughened his muscles until they were equal to any emergency. +</p> +<p> +And so the battle went slowly but surely against Carrington. +Fighting desperately, and showing by the expression +of his face that he knew his chances were small, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +he tried to work at close quarters. He kept coming in +stubbornly, blocking some blows, taking others; and +finally he succeeded in getting his arms around Taylor. +</p> +<p> +The crowd had by this time become intensely partisan. +At first it had been silent, but now it became clamorous. +There were some Danforth men, and knowing Danforth +to be aligned with Carrington—because, it seemed to +them, Carrington was taking Danforth’s end of the fight—they +howled for the big man to “give it to him!” And +they grew bitter when they saw that despite Carrington’s +best efforts, and their own verbal support of him, +Carrington was doomed to defeat. +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s admirers vastly outnumbered Carrington’s. +They did not find it necessary to shout advice to their +champion; but they shouted and roared with approval +as Taylor, driving forward, the grin still on his face, +striking heavily and blocking deftly, kept his enemy +retreating before him. +</p> +<p> +Carrington, locking his arms around Taylor, hugged +him desperately for some seconds—until he recovered +his breath, and until his head cleared, and he could fix +objects firmly in his vision; and then he heaved mightily, +swung Taylor from his feet and tried to throw him. Taylor’s +feet could get no leverage, but his arms were still +free, and with both of them he hammered the big man’s +head until Carrington, in insane rage, threw Taylor from +him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +</p> +<p> +Taylor landed a little off balance, and before he could +set himself, Carrington threw himself forward. He +swung malignantly, the blow landing glancingly on Taylor’s +head, staggering him. His feet struck an obstruction +and he went to one knee, Carrington striking at him +as he tried to rise. +</p> +<p> +The blow missed, Carrington turning clear around +from the force of the blow and tumbling headlong into +the dust near Taylor. +</p> +<p> +They clambered to their feet at the same instant, and +in the next they came together with a shock that made +them both reel backward. And then, still grinning, Taylor +stepped lightly forward. Paying no attention to +Carrington’s blows, he shot in several short, terrific, deadening +uppercuts that landed fairly on the big man’s chin. +Carrington’s hands dropped to his sides, his knees doubled +and he fell limply forward into the dust of the street +where he lay, huddled and unconscious, while turmoil +raged over him. +</p> +<p> +For the Danforth men in the crowd had yielded to rage +over the defeat of their favorites. They had seen Danforth +go down under the terrific punishment meted out to +him by Taylor; they had seen Carrington suffer the same +fate. Several of them drove forward, muttering profane +threats. +</p> +<p> +Norton, pale and watchful, fearing just such a contingency, +shoved forward to the center, shouting: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hold on, men! None of that! It’s a fair fight! +Keep off, there—do you hear?” +</p> +<p> +A score of Taylor men surged forward to Norton’s +side; the crowd split, forming two sections—one group +of men massing near Norton, the other congregating +around a tall man who seemed to be the leader of their +faction. A number of other men—the cautious and +faint-hearted element which had no personal animus to +spur it to participation in what seemed to threaten to +develop into a riot—retreated a short distance up the +street and stood watching, morbidly curious. +</p> +<p> +But though violence, concerted and deadly, was imminent, +it was delayed. For Taylor had not yet finished, +and the crowd was curiously following his movements. +</p> +<p> +Taylor was a picturesquely ludicrous figure. He was +covered with dust from head to foot; his face was +streaked with it; his hair was full of it; it had been ground +into his cheeks, and where blood from a cut on his forehead +had trickled to his right temple, the dust was matted +until it resembled crimson mud. +</p> +<p> +And yet the man was still smiling. It was not a smile +at which most men care to look when its owner’s attention +is definitely centered upon them; it was a smile full of +grimly humorous malice and determination; the smile of +the fighting man who cares nothing for consequences. +</p> +<p> +The concerted action which had threatened was, by the +tacit consent of the prospective belligerents, postponed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +for the instant. The gaze of every partisan—and of all +the non-partisans—was directed at Taylor. +</p> +<p> +He had not yet finished. For an instant he stood +looking down at Carrington and Danforth—both now +beginning to recover from their chastisement, and sitting +up in the dust gazing dizzily about them—then with a +chuckle, grim and malicious, Taylor dove toward the door +of the courthouse, where Littlefield was standing. +</p> +<p> +The judge had been stunned by the ferocity of the +action he had witnessed. Whatever judicial dignity had +been his had been whelmed by the paralyzing fear that +had gripped him, and he stood, holding to the door-jambs, +nerveless, motionless. +</p> +<p> +He saw Taylor start toward him; he saw a certain light +leaping in the man’s eyes, and he cringed and cried out +in dread. +</p> +<p> +But he had not the power to retreat from the menace +that was approaching him. He threw out his hands impotently +as Taylor reached him, as though to protest physically. +But Taylor ignored the movement, reaching +upward, a dusty finger and thumb closing on the judge’s +right ear. +</p> +<p> +There was a jerk, a shrill cry of pain from the judge, +and then he was led into the street, near where Carrington +and Danforth had fallen, and twisted ungently around +until he faced the crowd. +</p> +<p> +“Men,” said Taylor, in the silence that greeted him as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +he stood erect, his finger and thumb still gripping the +judge’s ear, “Judge Littlefield is going to say a few words +to you. He’s going to tell you who started this ruckus—so +there won’t be any nonsense about actions in contempt +of court. Deals like this are pulled off better when the +court takes the public into its confidence. Who started +this thing, judge? Did I?” +</p> +<p> +“No—o,” was Littlefield’s hesitating reply. +</p> +<p> +“Who did start it?” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Carrington.” +</p> +<p> +“You saw him?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> +<p> +“What did he do?” +</p> +<p> +“He—er—struck at you.” +</p> +<p> +“And Danforth?” +</p> +<p> +“He attacked you while you were in the street.” +</p> +<p> +“And I’m not to blame?” +</p> +<p> +“No.” +</p> +<p> +Taylor grinned and released the judge’s ear. “That’s +all, gentlemen,” he said; “court is dismissed!” +</p> +<p> +The judge said nothing as he walked toward the door +of the courthouse. Nor did Carrington and Danforth +speak as they followed the judge. Both Carrington and +Danforth seemed to have had enough fighting for one +day. +</p> +<p> +The victor looked around at the faces in the crowd +that were turned to his, and his grin grew eloquent. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> +</p> +<p> +“Looks like we’re going to have a mighty peaceable +administration, boys!” he said. His grin included Norton, +at whom he deliberately winked. Then he turned, +mounted his horse—which had stood docilely near by +during the excitement, and which whinnied as he approached +it—and rode down the street to the Dawes +bank, before which he dismounted. Then he went to his +rooms on the floor above, washed and changed his clothes, +and attended to the bruises on his face. Later, looking +out of the window, he saw the crowd slowly dispersing; +and still later he opened the door on Neil Norton, who +came in, deep concern on his face. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve started something, Squint. After you left I +went into the <em>Eagle</em> office. The partition is thin, and +I could hear Carrington raising hell in there. You +look out; he’ll try to play some dog’s trick on you now! +There’s going to be the devil to pay in this man’s +town!” +</p> +<p> +Taylor laughed. “How long does it take for a sprained +ankle to mend, Norton?” +</p> +<p> +Norton looked sharply at Taylor’s feet. +</p> +<p> +“You sprain one of yours?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“Lord, no!” denied Taylor. “I was just wondering. +How long?” he insisted. +</p> +<p> +“About two weeks. Say, Squint, your brain wasn’t +injured in that ruckus, was it?” he asked solicitously. +</p> +<p> +“It’s as good as it ever was.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe it!” declared Norton. “Here you’ve +started something serious, and you go to rambling about +sprained ankles.” +</p> +<p> +“Norton,” said Taylor slowly, “a sprained ankle is a +mighty serious thing—when you’ve forgotten which one +it was!” +</p> +<p> +“What in——” +</p> +<p> +“And,” resumed Taylor, “when you don’t know but +that she took particular pains to make a mental note of +it. If I’d wrap the left one up, now, and she knew it was +the right one that had been hurt—or if I’d wrap up the +right one, and she knew it was the wrong one, why she’d +likely——” +</p> +<p> +<em>“She?”</em> groaned Norton, looking at his friend with +bulging eyes that were haunted by a fear that Taylor’s +brain <em>had</em> cracked under the strain of the excitement he +had undergone. He remembered now, that Taylor <em>had</em> +acted in a peculiar manner during the fight; that he had +grinned all through it when he should have been in deadly +earnest. +</p> +<p> +“Plumb loco!” he muttered. +</p> +<p> +And then he saw Taylor grinning broadly at him; and +he was suddenly struck with the conviction that Taylor +was not insane; that he was in possession of some secret +that he was trying to confide to his friend, and that he +had begun obliquely. Norton drew a deep breath of +relief. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +</p> +<p> +“Lord!” he sighed, “you sure had me going. And +you don’t know which ankle you sprained?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve clean forgot. And now she’ll find out that I’ve +lied to her.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>She?</em>” said Norton significantly. +</p> +<p> +“Marion Harlan,” grinned Taylor. +</p> +<p> +Norton caught his breath with a gasp. “You mean +you’ve fallen in love with her? And that you’ve made +her—Oh, Lord! What a situation! Don’t you know +her uncle and Carrington are in cahoots in this deal?” +</p> +<p> +“It’s my recollection that I told you about that the day +I got back,” Taylor reminded him. And then Taylor told +him the story of the bandaged ankle. +</p> +<p> +When Taylor concluded, Norton lay back in his chair +and regarded his friend blankly. +</p> +<p> +“And you mean to tell me that all the time you were +fighting Carrington and Danforth you were thinking +about that ankle?” +</p> +<p> +“Mostly all the time,” Taylor admitted. +</p> +<p> +Norton made a gesture of impotence. “Well,” he said, +“if a man can keep his mind on a girl while two men +are trying to knock hell out of him, he’s sure got a bad +case. And all I’ve got to say is that you’re going to have +a lovely ruckus!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span><a name='chXV' id='chXV'></a>CHAPTER XV—GLOOM—AND PLANS</h2> +<p> +Elam Parsons sat all day on the wide porch of +the big house nursing his resentment. He was +hunched up in the chair, his shoulders were slouched +forward, his chin resting on the wings of his high, +starched collar, his lips in a pout, his eyes sullen and +gleaming with malevolence. +</p> +<p> +Parsons was beginning to recover from his astonishment +over the attack Carrington had made on him. He +saw now that he should have known Carrington was the +kind of man he had shown himself to be; for now that +Parsons reflected, he remembered little things that Carrington +had done which should have warned him. +</p> +<p> +Carrington had never been a real friend. Carrington +had used him—that was it; Carrington had made him +think he was an important member of the partnership, +and he had thought so himself. Now he understood +Carrington. Carrington was selfish and cruel—more, +Carrington was a beast and an ingrate. For it had been +Parsons who had made it possible for Carrington to succeed—for +he had used Parsons’ money all along—having +had very little himself. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> +</p> +<p> +So Parsons reflected, knowing, however, that he had +not the courage to oppose Carrington. He feared Carrington; +he had always feared him, but now his fear had +become terror—and hate. For Parsons could still feel +the man’s fingers at his throat; and as he sat there on +the porch his own fingers stroked the spot, while in his +heart flamed a great yearning for vengeance. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Marion Harlan had got up this morning feeling rather +more interested in the big house than she had felt the +day before—or upon any day that she had occupied it. +She, like Parsons, had awakened with a presentiment of +impending pleasure. But, unlike Parsons, she found it +impossible to definitely select an outstanding incident +or memory upon which to base her expectations. +</p> +<p> +Her anticipations seemed to be broad and inclusive—like +a clear, unobstructed sunset, with an effulgent glow +that seemed to embrace the whole world, warming it, +bringing a great peace. +</p> +<p> +For upon this morning, suddenly awakening to the +pure, white light that shone into her window, she was +conscious of a feeling of satisfaction with life that was +strange and foreign—a thing that she had never before +experienced. Always there had been a shadow of the +past to darken her vision of the future, but this morning +that shadow seemed to have vanished. +</p> +<p> +For a long time she could not understand, and she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +snuggled up in bed, her brow thoughtfully furrowed, +trying to solve the mystery. It was not until she got up +and was looking out of the window at the mighty basin +in which—like a dot of brown in a lake of emerald green—clustered +the buildings of the Arrow ranch, that knowledge +in an overwhelming flood assailed her. Then a +crimson flush stained her cheeks, her eyes glowed with +happiness, and she clasped her hands and stood rigid for +a long time. +</p> +<p> +She knew now. A name sprang to her lips, and she +murmured it aloud, softly: “Quinton Taylor.” +</p> +<p> +Later she appeared to Martha—a vision that made +the negro woman gasp with amazement. +</p> +<p> +“What happen to you, honey? You-all git good news? +You look light an’ airy—like you’s goin’ to fly!” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve decided to like this place—after all, Martha. +I—I thought at first that I wouldn’t, but I have changed +my mind.” +</p> +<p> +Martha looked sharply at her, a sidelong glance that +had quite a little subtle knowledge in it. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon that ‘Squint’ Taylor make a good many +girls change their mind, honey—he, he, he!” +</p> +<p> +“Martha!” +</p> +<p> +“Doan you git ’sturbed, now, honey. Martha shuah +knows the signs. I done discover the signs a long while +ago—when I fall in love with a worfless nigger in St. +Louis. He shuah did captivate me, honey. I done try to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +wiggle out of it—but ’tain’t no use. Face the fac’s, +Martha, face the fac’s, I tell myself—an’ I done it. Ain’t +no use for to try an’ fool the fac’s, honey—not one bit +of use! The ol’ fac’ he look at you an’ say: ‘Doan you +try to wiggle ’way from me; I’s heah, an’ heah I’s goin’ to +stay!’ That Squint man ain’t no lady-killer, honey, but +he’s shuah a he-man from the groun’ up!” +</p> +<p> +Marion escaped Martha as quickly as she could; and +after breakfast began systematically to rearrange the furniture +to suit her artistic ideals. +</p> +<p> +Martha helped, but not again did Martha refer to +Quinton Taylor—something in Marion’s manner warned +her that she could trespass too far in that direction. +</p> +<p> +Some time during the morning Marion saw Parsons +ride up and dismount at the stable door; and later she +heard him cross the porch. She looked out of one of the +front windows and saw him huddled in a big rocking-chair, +and she wondered at the depression that sat so +heavily upon him. +</p> +<p> +The girl did not pause in her work long enough to +partake of the lunch that Martha set for her—so interested +was she; and therefore she did not know whether +or not Parsons came into the house. But along about +four o’clock in the afternoon, wearied of her task, Marion +entered the kitchen. From Martha she learned that +Parsons had not stirred from the chair on the porch +during the entire day. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +</p> +<p> +Concerned, Marion went out to him. +</p> +<p> +Parsons did not hear her; he was still moodily and +resentfully reviewing the incident of the morning. +</p> +<p> +He started when the girl placed a gentle hand on one of +his shoulders, seeming to cringe from her touch; then he +looked up at her suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“What do you want?” he demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you feel well, Uncle Elam?” she inquired. Her +hand rose from his shoulder to his head, and her fingers +ran through his hair with a light, gentle touch that made +him shiver with repugnance. There were times when +Parsons hated this living image of his brother-in-law with +a fervor that seemed to sear his heart. Now, however, +pity for himself had rather dulled the edge of his hatred. +A calamity had befallen him; he was crushed under it; +and the sympathy of one whom he hated was not entirely +undesirable. +</p> +<p> +No sense of guilt assailed the man. He had never +betrayed his hate to her, and he would not do so now. +That wasn’t his way. He had always masked it from +her, making her think he felt an affection for her which +was rather the equal of that which custom required a +man should feel for a niece. Yet he had always hated +her. +</p> +<p> +“I’m not exactly well,” he muttered. “It’s the damned +atmosphere, I suppose.” +</p> +<p> +“Martha tells me that it <em>does</em> affect some persons,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +said the girl. “And lack of appetite seems to be one of +the first symptoms—in your case. For Martha tells +me you have not eaten.” +</p> +<p> +The girl’s soft voice irritated Parsons. +</p> +<p> +“Go away!” he ordered crossly; “I want to think!” +</p> +<p> +It was not the first time the girl had endured his moods. +She smiled tolerantly, and softly withdrew, busying herself +inside the house. +</p> +<p> +Parsons did not eat supper; he slunk off to bed and lay +for hours in his room brooding over the thing that had +happened to him. +</p> +<p> +He got up early the next morning, mounted his horse +and left the house before Marion could get a glimpse +of him. It was still rather early when he reached Dawes. +There, in a saloon, he overheard the story of the fight +in the street in front of the courthouse, and with tingling +eagerness and venomous satisfaction he listened to a man +telling another of the terrible punishment inflicted upon +Carrington by Quinton Taylor. +</p> +<p> +Parsons did not go to see Carrington, for he feared +a repetition of Carrington’s savage rage, should he permit +the latter to observe his satisfaction over the incident +of yesterday. He knew he could not face Carrington and +conceal the gloating triumph that gripped him. +</p> +<p> +So he returned to the big house. And for the greater +part of the day he sat in the rocker on the porch, his soul +filled with a vindictive joy. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +</p> +<p> +He ate heartily, too; and his manner indicated that he +had quite recovered from the indisposition that had affected +him the previous day. He even smiled at Marion +when she told him he was “looking better.” +</p> +<p> +But his bitter yearning for vengeance had not been +satisfied by the knowledge that Taylor had thrashed +Carrington. He knew, now that Carrington had ruthlessly +cast him aside, that he was no longer to figure importantly +in the scheme to loot the town; he knew that +it was Carrington’s intention to rob him of every dollar +he had entrusted to the man. He knew, too, that Carrington +would not hesitate to murder him should he offer +the slightest objection, or should he make any visible +resistance to Carrington’s plans. +</p> +<p> +But Parsons was determined to be revenged upon Carrington, +and he was convinced that he could secure his +revenge without boldly announcing his plans. +</p> +<p> +As for that, he had no plans. But while sitting in the +rocker on the porch during the long afternoon, the vindictive +light in his eyes suddenly deepened, and he grinned +evilly. +</p> +<p> +That night after supper he exerted himself to be agreeable +to Marion. During the interval between sunset and +darkness he walked with the girl along the edge of the +butte above the big valley which held the irrigation dam. +And while standing in a timber grove at the edge of the +butte, he questioned her deftly about the news she had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> +received of her father, and she told him of her visits to +the Arrow. +</p> +<p> +He had watched her narrowly, and he saw the flush +that came into her cheeks each time Taylor was mentioned. +</p> +<p> +“He is a remarkably forceful man,” he observed +once, when he mentioned Taylor. “And if I am not +mistaken, Carrington is going to have his hands full +with him.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean? Do you mean that Mr. Taylor +is not in sympathy with Carrington’s plans concerning +Dawes?” +</p> +<p> +“I mean just that. And if you had happened to be in +Dawes yesterday you might have witnessed a demonstration +of Taylor’s lack of sympathy with Carrington’s plans. +For”—and now Parsons’ eyes gleamed maliciously—“after +Judge Littlefield, acting under instructions from +the governor, had refused to administer the oath of +office to Taylor—inducting his rival, Danforth, into the +position instead——” +</p> +<p> +Here the girl interrupted, and Parsons was forced to +relate the tale in its entirety. +</p> +<p> +“Uncle Elam,” she said when Parsons paused, “are +you certain that Carrington’s intentions toward Dawes +are honorable?” +</p> +<p> +Parsons smiled crookedly behind a palm, and then +uncertainly at the girl. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know, Marion. Carrington is a rather hard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +man to gauge. He has always been mighty uncommunicative +and headstrong. He is getting ruthless and domineering, +too. I am rather afraid—that is, my dear, I +am beginning to believe we made a mistake in Carrington. +He doesn’t seem to be the sort of man we thought him +to be. If he were like that man Taylor, now——” He +paused and glanced covertly at the girl, noting the glow +in her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” he resumed, “Taylor <em>is</em> a man. My dear,” he +added confidentially, “there is going to be trouble in +Dawes—I am convinced of that; trouble between Carrington +and Taylor. Taylor thrashed Carrington yesterday, +but Carrington isn’t the kind to give up. I have +withdrawn from active participation in the affairs that +brought me here. I am not going to take sides. I don’t +care who wins. That may sound disloyal to you—but +look here!” He showed her several black and blue marks +on his throat. “Carrington did that—the day before +yesterday. Choked me.” His voice quavered with self-pity, +whereat the girl caught her breath in quick sympathy +and bent to examine the marks. When she stood erect +again Parsons saw her eyes flashing with indignation, and +he knew that whatever respect the girl had had for Carrington +had been forever destroyed. +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” she said, “why did he choke you?” +</p> +<p> +“Because I frankly told him I did not approve of his +methods,” lied Parsons, smirking virtuously. “He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +showed his hand, unmistakably, and his methods mean +evil to Dawes.” +</p> +<p> +The girl stiffened. “I shall go directly to Dawes and +tell Carrington what I think of him!” she declared. +</p> +<p> +“No—for God’s sake!” protested Parsons. “He +would kill me! He would know, instantly, that I had +been talking. My life would not be worth a snap of your +fingers! Don’t let on that I have said <em>anything</em> to you! +Let him come here, and treat him as you have always +treated him. But warn Taylor. Taylor may know +something—it is certain he suspects something—but +Taylor will not know everything. Make a friend of +Taylor, my dear. Go to him—visit his ranch—as much +as you like. But if Carrington says anything to you about +going there, tell him I opposed it. That will mislead him.” +</p> +<p> +When Parsons and the girl reached the house, Parsons +stood near the kitchen door and watched her enter. He +did not go in, himself; he walked around to the front and +sat on the edge of the porch, grinning maliciously. For +he knew something of the tortures of jealousy, and he +was convinced that he had added something to the antagonism +that already had been the cause of one clash between +Carrington and Taylor. And Parsons was convinced +that both he and Carrington had made a mistake +in planning to loot Dawes; that despite the connivance +of the governor and Judge Littlefield, Quinton Taylor +would defeat them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +</p> +<p> +Parsons might lose his money; but the point was that +Carrington would also lose. And if Parsons was wise +and cautious—and did not antagonize Taylor—there +was a chance that he might gain more through his friendship—a +professed friendship—for Taylor, than he +would have won had he been loyal to Carrington. At the +least, he would have the satisfaction of working against +Carrington in the dark. And to a man of Parsons’ character +that was a satisfaction not to be lightly considered. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span><a name='chXVI' id='chXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI—A MAN BECOMES A BRUTE</h2> +<p> +During the days that Parsons had passed nursing +his resentment, Carrington had been busy. Despite +the bruises that marked his face (which, by the way, a +clever barber had disguised until they were hardly visible) +Carrington appeared in public as though nothing had +happened. +</p> +<p> +The fight at the courthouse had aroused the big man +to the point of volcanic action. The lust for power that +had seized him; the implacable resolution to rule, to +win, to have his own way in all things; his passionate +hatred of Taylor; his determination to destroy anyone +who got in his path—these were the forces that drove +him. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had brought matters to a sudden and unexpected +crisis. Carrington had planned to begin his campaign +differently, to insinuate himself into the political life of +Dawes; and he had gone to the courthouse intending to +keep in the background, but Taylor had forced him into +the open. +</p> +<p> +Therefore, Carrington had no choice, and he instantly +accepted Taylor’s challenge. After reentering the courthouse, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +following the departure of Taylor, Carrington +had insisted that Judge Littlefield have Taylor taken into +custody on a contempt of court charge. Littlefield had +flatly refused, and the resulting argument had been what +Neil Norton had overheard. But Littlefield had not +yielded to Carrington’s insistence. +</p> +<p> +“That would be ridiculous, after what has happened,” +the judge declared. “The whole country would be laughing +at us. More, you can see that public sentiment is +with Taylor. And he forced me to publicly admit that +you were to blame. I simply won’t do it!” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” grinned Carrington, darkly; “I’ll find another +way to get him!” +</p> +<p> +And so for the instant Carrington dismissed Taylor +from his thoughts, devoting his attention to the task of +organizing his forces for the campaign he was to make +against the town. +</p> +<p> +He held many conferences with Danforth and with +three of five men who had been elected to the new city +council—that political body having also been provided +under the new charter. Three of the members—Cartwright, +Ellis, and Warden—were Danforth men, cogs +of that secret machine which for more than a year Danforth +had been perfecting at Carrington’s orders. +</p> +<p> +Some officials were appointed by Mayor Danforth—at +Carrington’s direction; a chief of police, a municipal +judge, a town clerk, a treasurer—and a host of other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +office-holders inevitable to a system of government which +permits the practice. +</p> +<p> +Carrington dominated every conference; he made it +plain that he was to rule Dawes—that Danforth and all +the others were subject to his orders. +</p> +<p> +Only one day was required to perfect Carrington’s +organization, and on Thursday evening, with everything +running smoothly, Carrington appeared in the palm-decorated +foyer of the Castle, a smugly complacent smile +on his face. For he had won the first battle in the war +he was to wage. To be sure, he had been worsted in a +physical encounter with Taylor, as the bruises still on +his face indicated, but he intended to repay Taylor for +that thrashing—and his lips went into an ugly pout when +his thoughts dwelt upon the man. +</p> +<p> +He had almost forgotten Parsons; he did not think +of the other until about eight o’clock in the evening, when, +with Danforth in the barroom of the Castle, Danforth +mentioned his name. Then Carrington remembered that +he had not seen Parsons since he had throttled the man. +He ordered another drink, not permitting Danforth to +see his eyes, which were glowing with a flame that would +have betrayed him. +</p> +<p> +“This is good-night,” he said to Danforth as he raised +his glass. “I’ve got to see Parsons tonight.” +</p> +<p> +Yet it was not Parsons who was uppermost in his mind +when he left the Castle, mounted on his horse; the face +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +of Marion Harlan was in the mental picture he drew +as he rode toward the Huggins house, and there ran in his +brain a reckless thought—which had been uttered to Parsons +at the instant before his fingers had closed around +the latter’s throat a few days before: +</p> +<p> +“I was born a thousand years too late, Parsons! I am +a robber baron brought down to date—modernized. I +believe that in me flows the blood of a pirate, a savage, or +an ancient king. I have all the instincts of a tribal chief +whose principles are to rule or ruin! I’ll have no law +out here but my own desires!” +</p> +<p> +And tonight Carrington’s desires were for the girl who +had accompanied him to Dawes; the girl who had stirred +his passions as no woman had ever stirred them, and who—now +that he had seized the town’s government—was +to be as much his vassal as Parsons, Danforth—or +any of them. He grinned as he rode toward the Huggins +house—a grin that grew to a laugh as he rode up the +drive toward the house; low, vibrant, hideous with its +threat of unrestrained passion. +</p> +<p> +The night had been too beautiful for Marion Harlan +to remain indoors, and so, after darkness had swathed +the big valley back of the house, she had slipped out, +noting that her uncle had gone again to the chair on the +front porch. She had walked with Parsons along the +butte above the valley, but she wanted to be alone now, to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +view the beauties without danger of interruption. Above +all, she wanted to think. +</p> +<p> +For the news that Parsons had communicated to her +had affected her strangely; she felt that her uncle’s revelations +of Carrington’s character amounted to a vindication +of her own secret opinion of the man. +</p> +<p> +He had been a volcanic wooer, and she had distrusted +him all along. She had never permitted that distrust to +appear on the surface, however, out of respect for her +uncle—for she had always thought he and Carrington +were firm friends. She saw now, though, that she had +always suspected Carrington of being just what her +uncle’s revelation had proved him to be—a ruthless, +selfish, domineering brute of a man, who would have no +mercy upon any person who got in his way. +</p> +<p> +Reflecting upon his actions during the days she had +known him in Westwood—and upon his glances when +sometimes she had caught him looking at her, and at other +times when his gaze—bold, and flaming with naked +passion—had been fixed upon her, she shuddered, +comparing him with Quinton Taylor, quiet, polite, and +considerate. +</p> +<p> +Loyally, she hated Carrington now for the things he +had done to Parsons. She mentally vowed that the next +time she saw Carrington she would tell him exactly what +she thought of him, regardless of the effect her frank +opinion might have on her uncle’s fortunes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +</p> +<p> +But still she had not come to the edge of the butte for +the purpose of devoting her entire thoughts to Carrington; +there was another face that obtruded insistently in +the mental pictures she drew—Quinton Taylor’s. And +she found a grass knoll at the edge of the butte, twisted +around so that she could look over the edge of the butte +and into the big basin that slumbered somberly in the +mysterious darkness, staring intently until she discovered +a pin-point of light gleaming out of it. That light, she +knew, came from one of the windows of the Arrow ranchhouse, +and she watched it long, wondering what Taylor +would be doing about now. +</p> +<p> +For she was keeping no secrets from herself tonight. +She knew that she liked Taylor better than she had ever +liked any man of her acquaintance. +</p> +<p> +At first she had told herself that her liking for the man +had been aroused merely because he had been good to her +father. But she knew now that she liked Taylor for himself. +There was no mistaking the nameless longing that +had taken possession of her; the insistent and yearning +desire to be near him; the regret that had affected her +when she had left the Arrow at the end of her last visit. +Taylor would never know how near she had come to accepting +his invitation to share the Arrow with him. Had +it not been for propriety—the same propriety which had +inseparably linked itself with all her actions—which she +must observe punctiliously despite the fact that girls of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +her acquaintance had violated it openly without hurt or +damage to their reputations; had it not been that she must +bend to its mandates, because of the shadow that had +always lurked near her, she would have gone to live at +the Arrow. +</p> +<p> +For she knew that she could have stayed at the Arrow +without danger. Taylor was a gentleman—she knew—and +Taylor would never offend her in the manner the +world affected to dread—and suspect. But she could not +do the things other girls could do—that was why she +had refused Taylor’s invitation. +</p> +<p> +She had thought she had conquered her aversion for +the big house—the aversion that had been aroused because +of the story Martha had told her regarding its former +inhabitants, but that aversion recurred to her with +disquieting insistence as she sat there on the edge of the +butte. +</p> +<p> +It seemed to her that the serpent of immorality which +had dragged its trail across hers so many times was never +to leave her, and she found herself wondering about the +house and about Carrington and her uncle. +</p> +<p> +Carrington had bought the horse for her—Billy; and +she had accepted it after some consideration. But +what if Carrington had bought the house? That would +mean—why, the people of Dawes, if they discovered +it—if Carrington had bought it—might place their own +interpretation upon the fact that she was living in it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +And the interpretation of the people of Dawes would be +no more charitable than that of the people of Westwood! +They would think—— +</p> +<p> +She got up quickly, her face pale, and started toward +the house, determined to ask her uncle. +</p> +<p> +Walking swiftly toward the front porch, where she +had seen Parsons go, she remembered that Parsons had +told her he had arranged for the house, but that might +not mean that he had personally bought it. +</p> +<p> +She meant to find out, and if Carrington owned the +house, she would not stay in it another night—not even +tonight. +</p> +<p> +She was walking fast when she reached the edge of the +porch—almost running; and when she got to the nearest +corner, she saw that the porch was quite vacant; Parsons +must have gone in. +</p> +<p> +She stood for an instant at the porch-edge, a beam of +silvery moonlight streaming upon her through a break in +the trees overhead, convinced that Parsons had gone to +bed; and convinced, likewise, that, were she to disturb +him now to ask the question that was in her mind, he +would laugh at her. +</p> +<p> +She decided she would wait until the morning, and +she was about to return to the edge of the butte, when +she realized that it had grown rather late. She had not +noticed how quickly the time had fled. +</p> +<p> +She turned, intending to enter the house from one of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +the rear doors through which she had emerged, when a +sound reached her ears—the rapid drumming of a horse’s +hoofs. She wheeled, facing the direction from which +the sound came—and saw Carrington riding toward her, +not more than fifty feet distant. +</p> +<p> +He saw her at the instant her gaze rested on him—an +instant before, she surmised, for there was a huge grin +on his face as she turned to him. +</p> +<p> +He was at her side before she could obey a sudden impulse +to run—for she did not wish to talk to him tonight—and +in another instant he had dismounted and was +standing close to her. +</p> +<p> +“All alone, eh?” he laughed. “And enjoying the +moon? Do you know that you made a ravishing picture, +standing there with the light shining on you? I saw you +as you started to turn, and I shall remember the picture +all my life! You are more beautiful than ever, girl!” +</p> +<p> +Carrington was breathing fast. The girl thought he +had been riding hard. But, despite that explanation for +the repressed excitement under which he seemed to be +laboring, the girl thought she detected the presence of restrained +passion in his eyes, and she shrank back a little. +</p> +<p> +She had often seen passion in his eyes, identical with +what glowed in them now, but she had always felt a certain +immunity, a masterfulness over him that had permitted +her to feel that she could repulse him at will. +Now, however, she felt a sudden, cringing dread of him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +The dread, no doubt, was provoked by her uncle’s revelation +of the man’s character; and, for the first time during +her acquaintance with Carrington, she felt a fear of him, +and became aware of the overpowering force and virility +of the man. +</p> +<p> +Her voice was a little tremulous when she answered: +</p> +<p> +“I was looking for Uncle Elam. He must have +gone in.” +</p> +<p> +His face was not very distinct to her, for he was standing +in a shadow cast by a near-by tree, and she could not +see the bruises that marred the flesh, but it seemed to her +that his face had never seemed so repulsive. And the +significance of his grin made her gasp. +</p> +<p> +“That’s good. I’m glad he did go in; I did not come +to see Parsons.” +</p> +<p> +She had meant to take him to task for what he had +done to her uncle, but there was something in his voice +that made thoughts of defending Parsons seem futile—a +need gone in the necessity to conserve her voice and +strength for an imminent crisis. +</p> +<p> +For Carrington’s voice, thick and vibrant, smote her +with a presentiment of danger to herself. She looked +sharply at him, saw that his face was red and bloated +with passion and, taking a backward step, she said shortly: +</p> +<p> +“I must go in. I—I promised Martha——” +</p> +<p> +His voice interrupted her; she felt one of his hands on +her arm, the fingers gripping it tightly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +</p> +<p> +“No, you don’t,” he said, hoarsely; “I came here to +have a talk with you, and I mean to have it!” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” she asked. She was rigid and +erect, but she could not keep the quaver out of her voice. +</p> +<p> +“Playing the innocent, eh?” he mocked, his voice dry +and light. “You’ve played innocent ever since I saw you +the first time. It doesn’t go anymore. You’re going to +face the music.” He thrust his face close to hers and +the expression of his eyes thrilled her with horror. +</p> +<p> +“What do you suppose I brought you here for?” he +demanded. “I’ll tell you. I bought the house for you. +Parsons knows why—Dawes knows why—everybody +knows. You ought to know—you shall know.” He +laughed, sneeringly. “Westwood could tell you, or the +woman who lived in the Huggins house before you came. +Martha could tell you—she lived here——” +</p> +<p> +He heard her draw her breath sharply and he mocked +her, gloating: +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Martha has told you! Well, you’ve got to face +the music, I tell you! I’ve got things going my way here—the +way I’ve wanted things to go since I’ve been old +enough to realize what life is. I’ve got the governor, the +mayor, the judges—everything—with me, and I’m +going to rule. I’m going to rule, my way! If you are +sensible, you’ll have things pretty easy; but if you’re +going to try to balk me you’re going to pay—plenty!” +</p> +<p> +She did not answer, standing rigid in his grasp, her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +face chalk-white. He did not notice her pallor, nor how +she stood, paralyzed with dread; and he thought because +of her silence that she was going to passively submit. +He thought victory was near, and he was going to be +magnanimous in his moment of triumph. +</p> +<p> +His grip on her arm relaxed and he leaned forward +to whisper: +</p> +<p> +“That’s the girl. No fuss, no heroics. We’ll get +along; we’ll——” +</p> +<p> +Her right hand struck his face—a full sweep of the +arm behind it—burning, stinging, sending him staggering +back a little from its very unexpectedness. And +before he could make a move to recover his equilibrium +she had gone like a flash of light, as elusive as the moonbeam +in which she had stood when he had first come +upon her. +</p> +<p> +He cursed gutturally and leaped forward, running with +great leaps toward the rear of the house, where he had +seen her vanish. He reached the door through which she +had gone, finding it closed and locked against him. Stepping +back a little, he hurled himself against the door, +sending it crashing from its hinges, so that he tumbled +headlong into the room and sprawled upon the floor. He +was up in an instant, tossing the wreck of the door from +him, breathing heavily, cursing frightfully; for he had +completely lost his senses and was in the grip of an insane +rage over the knowledge that she had tricked him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +</p> +<p> +Parsons heard the crash as the door went from its +hinges. He got out of bed in a tremor of fear and opened +the door of his room, peering into the big room that adjoined +the dining-room. From the direction of the +kitchen he caught a thin shaft of light—from the kerosene-lamp +that Martha had placed on a table for Marion’s +convenience. A big form blotted out the light, casting a +huge, gigantic shadow; and Parsons saw the shadow on +the ceiling of the room into which he looked. +</p> +<p> +Huge as the shadow was, Parsons had no difficulty in +recognizing it as belonging to Carrington; and with chattering +teeth Parsons quickly closed his door, locked it, +and stood against it, his knees knocking together. +</p> +<p> +Martha, too, had heard the crash. She bounded out of +bed and ran to the door of her room, swinging it wide, +for instinct told her something had happened to Marion. +Her room was closer to the kitchen, and she saw Carrington +plainly, as he was rising from the débris. And she +was just in time to see Marion slipping through the doorway +of her own room. And by the time Carrington got +to his feet, Martha had heard Marion’s door click shut, +heard the lock snap home. +</p> +<p> +Martha instantly closed the door of her own room, +fastened it and ran to another door that connected her +room with Marion’s. She swung that door open and +looked into the girl’s room; heard the girl stifle a shriek—for +the girl thought Carrington was coming upon her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +from that direction—and then Martha was at the girl’s +side, whispering to her—excitedly comforting her. +</p> +<p> +“The damn trash—houndin’ you this way! He ain’ +goin’ to hurt you, honey—not one bit!” +</p> +<p> +Outside the door they could hear Carrington walking +about in the room. There came to the ears of the two +women the scratch of a match, and then a steady glimmer +of light streaked into the room from the bottom of the +door, and they knew Carrington had lighted a lamp. A +little later, while Martha stood, her arms around the girl, +who leaned against the negro woman, very white and +still, they heard Carrington talking with Parsons. They +heard Parsons protesting, Carrington cursing him. +</p> +<p> +“He ain’ goin’ to git you, honey,” whispered Martha. +“That man come heah the firs’ day, an’ I knowed he’s a +rapscallion.” She pointed upward, to where a trap-door, +partly open, appeared in the ceiling of the room. +</p> +<p> +“There’s the attic, honey. I’ll boost you, an’ you go +up there an’ hide from that wild man. You got to, for +that worfless Parsons am tellin’ him which room you’s in. +You hurry—you heah me!” +</p> +<p> +She helped the girl upward, and stood listening until +the trap-door grated shut. Then she turned and grinned +at the door that led into the big room adjoining the +kitchen. Carrington was at it, his shoulder against it; +Martha could hear him cursing. +</p> +<p> +“Open up, here!” came Carrington’s voice through +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +the door, muffled, but resonant. “Open the door, damn +you, or I’ll tear it down!” +</p> +<p> +“Tear away, white man!” giggled Martha softly. +“They’s a big ’sprise waitin’ you when you git in heah!” +</p> +<p> +For an instant following Carrington’s curses and demands +there was a silence. It was broken by a splintering +crash, and the negro woman saw the door split so that +the light from the other room streaked through it. But +the door held, momentarily. Then Carrington again +lunged against it and it burst open, pieces of the lock +flying across the room. +</p> +<p> +This time Carrington did not fall with the door, but +reeled through the opening, erect, big, a vibrant, mirthless +laugh on his lips. +</p> +<p> +The light from the other room streamed in past him, +shining full upon Martha, who stood, her hands on her +hips, looking at the man. +</p> +<p> +Carrington was disconcerted by the presence of Martha +when he had expected to see Marion. He stepped back, +cursing. +</p> +<p> +Martha giggled softly. +</p> +<p> +“What you doin’ in my room, man; just when I’se +goin’ to retiah? You git out o’ heah—quick! Yo’ heah +me? Yo’ ain’t got no business bustin’ my door down!” +</p> +<p> +“Bah!” Carrington’s voice was malignant with baffled +rage. With one step he was at Martha’s side, his +hands on her throat, his muscles rigid and straining. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +</p> +<p> +“Where’s Marion Harlan?” he demanded. “Tell me, +you black devil, or I’ll choke hell out of you!” +</p> +<p> +Martha was not frightened; she giggled mockingly. +</p> +<p> +“That girl bust in heah a minute ago; then she bust +out ag’in, runnin’ fit to kill herself. I reckon by this time +she’s done throw herself off the butte—rather than have +you git her!” +</p> +<p> +Carrington shoved Martha from him, so that she staggered +and fell; and with a bound he was through the +door that led into Martha’s room. +</p> +<p> +The negro woman did not move. She sat on the floor, +a malicious grin on her face, listening to Carrington as he +raged through the house. +</p> +<p> +Once, about five minutes after he left, Carrington returned +and stuck his head into the room. Martha still +sat where Carrington had thrown her. She did not care +what Carrington did to the house, so long as he was +ignorant of the existence of the trap-door. +</p> +<p> +And Carrington did not notice the door. For an hour +Martha heard him raging around the house, opening and +slamming doors and overturning furniture. Once when +she did not hear him for several minutes, she got up and +went to one of the windows. She saw him, out at the +stable, looking in at the horses. +</p> +<p> +Then he returned to the house, and Martha resumed +her place on the floor. Later, she heard Carrington enter +the house again, and after that she heard Parsons’ voice, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +raised in high-terrored protest. Then there was another +silence. Again Martha looked out of a window. This +time she saw Carrington on his horse, riding away. +</p> +<p> +But for half an hour Martha remained at the window. +She feared Carrington’s departure was a subterfuge, and +she was not mistaken. For a little later Carrington returned, +riding swiftly. He slid from his horse at a little +distance from the house and ran toward it. Martha was +in the kitchen when he came in. He did not speak to her +as he came into the room, but passed her and again made +a search of the house. Passing Martha again he gave +her a malevolent look, then halted at the outside door. +</p> +<p> +The man’s wild rage seemed to have left him; he was +calm—polite, even. +</p> +<p> +“Tell your mistress I am sorry for what has occurred. +I am afraid I was a bit excited. I shall not harm her; I +won’t bother her again.” +</p> +<p> +He stepped through the doorway and, going again to a +window and drawing back the curtain slightly, Martha +watched him. +</p> +<p> +Carrington went to the stable, entered, and emerged +again presently, leading two horses—Parsons’ horse and +Billy. He led the animals to where his own horse stood, +climbed into the saddle and rode away, the two horses +following. At the edge of the wood he turned and looked +back. Then the darkness swallowed him. +</p> +<p> +For another half-hour Martha watched the Dawes trail +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +from a window. Then she drew a deep breath and went +into Marion’s room, standing under the trap-door. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon you kin come down now, honey—he’s +gone.” +</p> +<p> +A little later, with Marion standing near her in the +room, the light from the kerosene-lamp streaming upon +them through the shattered door, Martha was speaking +rapidly: +</p> +<p> +“He acted mighty suspicious, honey; an’ he’s up to +some dog’s trick, shuah as you’m alive. You got to git +out of heah, honey—mighty quick! ‘Pears he thinks +you is hid somewhares around heah, an’ he’s figgerin’ on +makin’ you stay heah. An’ if you wants to git away, +you’s got to walk, for he’s took the hosses!” She shook +her head, her eyes wide with a reflection of the complete +stupefaction that had descended upon her. “Laws +A’mighty, what a ragin’ devil that man is, honey! I’se +seen men <em>an’</em> men—an’ I knowed a nigger once that +was——” +</p> +<p> +But Martha paused, for Marion was paying no attention +to her. The girl was pulling some articles of wearing +apparel from some drawers, packing them hurriedly +into a small handbag, and Martha sprang quickly to help +her, divining what the girl intended to do. +</p> +<p> +“That’s right, honey; doan you stay heah in this house +another minit! You git out as quick as you kin. You +go right over to that Squint man’s house an’ tell him to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +protect you. ’Cause you’s goin’ to need protection, honey—an’ +don’t you forgit it!” +</p> +<p> +The girl’s white face was an eloquent sign of her conception +of the danger that confronted her. But she spoke +no word while packing her handbag. When she was +ready she turned to the door, to confront Martha, who +also carried a satchel. Together the two went out of the +house, crossed the level surrounding it, and began to +descend the long slope that led down into the mighty +basin in which, some hours before, the girl had seen the +pin-point of light glimmering across the sea of darkness +toward her. And toward that light, as toward a beacon +that promised a haven from a storm, she went, Martha +following. +</p> +<p> +From a window of the house a man watched them—Parsons—in +the grip of a paralyzing terror, his pallid +face pressed tightly against the glass of the window as he +watched until he could see them no longer. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span><a name='chXVII' id='chXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII—THE WRONG ANKLE</h2> +<p> +Bud Hemmingway, the tall, red-faced young +puncher who had assisted Quinton Taylor in the +sprained-ankle deception, saw the dawn breaking through +one of the windows of the bunkhouse when he suddenly +opened his eyes after dreaming of steaming flapjacks +soaked in the sirup he liked best. He stretched out on his +back in the wall-bunk and licked his lips. +</p> +<p> +“Lordy, I’m hungry!” +</p> +<p> +But he decided to rest for a few minutes while he considered +the cook—away with the outfit to a distant corner +of the range. +</p> +<p> +He reflected bitterly that the cook was away most of +the time, and that a man fared considerably better with +the outfit than he did by staying at the home ranch. For +one thing, when a man was with the outfit he got “grub,” +without having to rustle it himself—that was why it was +better to be with the outfit. +</p> +<p> +“A man don’t git nothin’ to eat at all, scarcely—when +he’s got to rustle his own grub,” mourned Bud. “He’s +got the appetite, all right, but he don’t know how to rassle +the ingredients which goes into good grub. Take them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +flapjacks, now.” (He licked his lips again.) “They’re +scrumptuous. But that damned hyena which slings grub +for the outfit won’t tell a man how he makes ’em, which +greediness is goin’ to git him into a heap of trouble some +day—when I git so hungry that I feel a heap reckless!” +</p> +<p> +Bud watched the dawn broaden. He knew he ought to +get up, for this was the day on which Marion Harlan was +to visit the Arrow—and Taylor had warned him to be +on hand early to bandage the ankle again—Taylor having +decided that not enough time had elapsed to effect a cure. +</p> +<p> +But Bud did not get up until a glowing shaft entering +the window warned him that the sun was soon to appear +above the horizon. Then he bounded out of the bunk and +lurched heavily to an east window. +</p> +<p> +What he saw when he looked out made him gasp for +breath and hang hard to the window-sill, while his eyes +bulged and widened with astonishment. For upon the +porch of the ranchhouse—seated in the identical chairs in +which they had sat during their previous visit, were +Marion Harlan and the negro woman! +</p> +<p> +Bud stepped back from the window and rubbed his +eyes. Then he went to the window again and looked with +all his vision. And then a grin covered his face. +</p> +<p> +For the two women seemed to be asleep. Bud would +have sworn they were asleep! For the negress was +hunched up in her chair—a big, almost shapeless black +mass—with her chin hidden in the swell of her ample +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +bosom; while the girl was leaning back, her figure slack +with the utter relaxation that accompanies deep sleep, her +eyes closed and her hat a little awry. Bud was certain <em>she</em> +was asleep, for no girl in her waking moments would permit +her hat to rest upon her head in that negligent manner. +</p> +<p> +Bad scratched his head many times while hurriedly +getting into his clothing. +</p> +<p> +“I’m bettin’ <em>they</em> didn’t wait for flapjacks <em>this</em> morning!” +he confided to himself, mentally. “Must like it +here a heap,” he reflected. “Well, there’s nothin’ like +gittin’ an early start when you’re goin’ anywhere!” he +grinned. +</p> +<p> +Stealthily he opened the door of the bunkhouse, watching +furtively as he stepped out, lest he be seen; and then +when he noted that the women did not move, he darted +across the yard, vaulted the corral fence, ran around the +corner of the ranchhouse, carefully opened a rear door, +and presently stood beside a bed gently shaking its tousled-haired +occupant. +</p> +<p> +“Git up, you sufferin’ fool!” he whispered hoarsely; +“they’re here!” +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s eyes snapped open and were fixed on Bud with +a resentful glare, which instantly changed to reserved +amusement when he saw Bud’s bulging eyes and general +evidence of suppressed excitement. +</p> +<p> +He yawned sleepily, stretching his arms wide. +</p> +<p> +“The outfit, eh? Well, tell Bothwell I’ll see him——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +</p> +<p> +“Bothwell, hell!” sneered Bud. “It ain’t the outfit! +It ain’t no damned range boss! It’s <em>her</em>, I tell you! An’ +if you’re figgerin’ on gittin’ that ankle bandaged before— That +starts you to runnin’, eh?” he jeered. +</p> +<p> +For Taylor was out of bed with one leap. In another +he had Bud by the shoulders and had crowded him back +against the wall. +</p> +<p> +“Bud,” he said, “I’ve a notion to manhandle you! +Didn’t I tell you to have me up early?” +</p> +<p> +“Git your fingers out of my windpipe,” objected Bud. +“Early! Sufferin’ shorthorns! Did you want me to git +you up last night? It’s only four, now—an’ they’ve been +here for hours, I reckon—mebbe all night. How’s a man +to know anything about a woman?” +</p> +<p> +Taylor was getting into his clothes. Bud watched him, +marveling at his deft movements. “You’re sure a wolf at +hustlin’ when <em>she’s</em> around!” he offered. +</p> +<p> +But he got no reply. Taylor was dressed in a miraculously +short time, and then he sat down on the edge of the +bed and stuck a foot out toward Bud. +</p> +<p> +“Shut up, and get the bandage on!” he directed. +</p> +<p> +Bud dove for a dresser and pulled out a drawer, returning +instantly with a roll of white cloth, which he unfolded +as he knelt beside the bed. For an instant after kneeling +he scratched his head, looking at Taylor’s feet in perplexity, +and then he looked up at Taylor, his face thoughtfully +furrowed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +</p> +<p> +“Which ankle was it I bandaged before?” he demanded; +“I’ve forgot!” +</p> +<p> +Taylor groaned. He, too, had forgotten. Since he had +talked with Neil Norton about the ankle directly after +the fight with Carrington in front of the courthouse he +had tried in vain to remember which ankle he had bandaged +for Miss Harlan’s benefit. Driven to the necessity +of making a quick decision, his brain became a mere +muddle of desperate conjecture. Out of the muddle +sprang a disgust for Bud for <em>his</em> poor memory. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve forgot!” he blurted at Bud. “Why, damn it, +you ought to know which one it was—you bandaged it!” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” grinned Bud gleefully, “it was <em>your</em> ankle, +wasn’t it? Strikes me that if I busted one of <em>my</em> ankles I +wouldn’t forget which one it was! Leastways, if I’d +busted it just to hang around a girl!” +</p> +<p> +Taylor sneered scornfully. “You wouldn’t bust an +ankle for a girl—you ain’t got backbone enough. Hell!” +he exploded; “do something! Take a chance and bandage +one of them—I don’t care a damn which one! If +she noticed the other time, I’ll tell her that one was cured +and I busted the other one!” +</p> +<p> +“She’d know you was lyin’,” grinned Bud. He stood +erect, his eyes alight with an inspiration. “Wrap up both +of ’em!” he suggested. “If she goes to gittin’ curious—which +she will, bein’ a woman—tell her you busted both +of ’em!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +</p> +<p> +“It won’t do,” objected Taylor; “I couldn’t lie that +heavy an’ keep a straight face.” +</p> +<p> +Bud began to wrap the left ankle. As he worked, the +doubt in his eyes began to fade and was succeeded by conviction. +When he finished, he stood up and grinned at +Taylor. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the one,” he said; “the left. I mind, now, that +we talked about it. You go right out to her, limpin’, the +same as you done before, an’ she’ll not say a word about +it. You’ll see.” +</p> +<p> +Taylor grunted disbelievingly, and hobbled to the front +door. He looked back at Bud, who was snickering, made +a malicious grimace at him, and softly opened the door. +</p> +<p> +Miss Harlan had been asleep, but she was not asleep +when Taylor opened the door. Indeed, she was never +more wide awake in her life. At the sound of the door +opening she turned her head and sat stiffly erect, to face +Taylor. +</p> +<p> +Taylor looked apologetically at his ankle, his cheeks +tinged with a flush of embarrassment. +</p> +<p> +“This ankle, ma’am—it ain’t quite well yet. You’ll +excuse me not being gone. But Bud—that’s my friend—says +it won’t be quite right for a few days yet. But I +won’t be in your way—and I hope you enjoy yourself.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Harlan was enjoying herself. She was enjoying +herself despite the shadow of the tragedy that had almost +descended upon her. And mirth, routing the bitter, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +resentful emotions that had dwelt in her heart during the +night, twitched mightily at her lips and threatened to +curve them into a smile. +</p> +<p> +For during her last visit to the Arrow she had noted +particularly that it had been Taylor’s <em>right</em> ankle which +had been bandaged, and now he appeared before her with +the <em>left</em> swathed in white cloth! +</p> +<p> +But even had she not known, Taylor’s face must have +told her of the deception. For there was guilt in his eyes, +and doubt, and a sort of breathless speculation, and—she +was certain—an intense curiosity to discover whether or +not she was aware of the trick. +</p> +<p> +But she looked straight at him, betraying nothing of the +emotions that had seized her. +</p> +<p> +“Does it pain you <em>very</em> much?” she inquired. +</p> +<p> +Had not Taylor been so eager to make his case strong, +he might have noted the exceedingly light sarcasm of her +voice. +</p> +<p> +“It hurts a heap, ma’am,” he declared. “Why, last +night——” +</p> +<p> +“I shouldn’t think it would be necessary to lie about an +ankle,” she said, coldly. +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s face went crimson, and in his astonishment he +stepped heavily upon the traitor foot and stood, convicted, +before her, looking very much like a reproved schoolboy. +</p> +<p> +She rose from her chair, and now she turned from Taylor +and stood looking out over the big level, while behind +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +her Taylor shifted his feet, scowled and felt decidedly +uncomfortable. +</p> +<p> +From where Taylor watched her she looked very rigid +and indignant—with her head proudly erect and her +shoulders squared; and he could almost <em>feel</em> that her eyes +were flashing with resentment. +</p> +<p> +Yet had he been able to see her face, he would have +seen her lips twitching and her eyes dancing with a light +that might have puzzled him. For she had already +forgiven him. +</p> +<p> +“There’s lies—<em>and</em> lies,” he offered palliatively, breaking +a painful silence. +</p> +<p> +There was no answer, and Taylor, desperately in earnest +in his desire for forgiveness, and looking decidedly +funny to Bud Hemmingway, who was watching from +the interior of the room beyond the open door, walked +across the porch with no suspicion of a limp, and halted +near the girl. +</p> +<p> +“Shucks, Miss Harlan,” he said. “I’m sure caught; +and I’m admitting it was a sort of mean trick to pull off +on you. But if you wanted to be near a girl you’d taken +a shine to—that you liked a whole lot, I mean, Miss +Harlan—and you couldn’t think of any <em>good</em> excuse to +be around her? You couldn’t blame a man for that—could +you? Besides,” he added, when peering at the side +of her face, he saw the twitching lips, ready to break +into a smile, “I’ll make it up to you!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +</p> +<p> +“How?” It was a strained voice that answered him. +</p> +<p> +“By manhandling Bud Hemmingway for wrapping +up the wrong ankle, ma’am!” he declared. +</p> +<p> +Both heard a cackle of mirth from the room behind +them. And both turned, to see Bud Hemmingway retreating +through a door into the kitchen. +</p> +<p> +It might have been Bud’s action that brought the smile +to Miss Harlan’s face, or it might have been that she +had forgiven Taylor. But at any rate Taylor read the +smile correctly, and he succeeded in looking properly +repentant when he felt Miss Harlan’s gaze upon him. +</p> +<p> +“I won’t play any more tricks—on you,” he declared. +“You ain’t holding it against me?” +</p> +<p> +“If you will promise not to harm Bud,” she said. +</p> +<p> +“That goes,” he agreed, and went into the house to +get his discarded boot. +</p> +<p> +When he reappeared, Miss Harlan was again seated +in the chair. Swiftly her thoughts had reverted to the +incident of the night before, and her face was wan and +pale, and her lips pressed tightly together in a brave +effort to repress the emotions that rioted within her. In +spite of her courage, and of her determination not to let +Taylor know of what had happened to her, her eyes were +moist and her lips quivering. +</p> +<p> +He stepped close to her and peered sharply at her, +standing erect instantly, his face grave. +</p> +<p> +“Shucks!” he said, accusingly; “I wouldn’t be called +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +hospitable—now, would I? Standing here, talking a +lot of nonsense, and you—you must have started <em>early</em> +to get here by this time!” Again he flashed a keen +glance at her, and his voice leaped. +</p> +<p> +“Something has happened, Miss Harlan! What is it?” +</p> +<p> +She got up again and faced him, smiling, her eyes shining +mistily through the moisture in them. She was almost +on the verge of tears, and her voice was tremulous when +she answered: +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Taylor, I—I have come to ask if you—still—if +your offer about the Arrow is still open—if—I could +stay here—myself and Martha; if I could accept the offer +you made about giving me father’s share of the Arrow. +For—for—I can’t go back East—to Westwood, and +I won’t stay in the Huggins house a minute longer!” +</p> +<p> +“Sure!” he said, with a grim smile, aware of her +profound emotion; aware, too, that something had gone +terribly wrong with her—to make her accept what she +had once considered charity—an offer made out of his +regard for her father. +</p> +<p> +“But, look here,” he added. “What’s wrong? There’s +something——” +</p> +<p> +“Plenty, Mr. Squint.” +</p> +<p> +This was Martha. She had been awake for some little +time, sitting back with her eyes closed, listening. She +was now sitting erect, her eyes shining with eagerness +to tell all she knew of the night’s happenings. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +</p> +<p> +“Plenty, Mr. Squint,” she repeated, paying no attention +to Miss Harlan’s sharp, “Martha!” “That big +rapscallion, Carrington, has been makin’ things mighty +mis’able for Missy Harlan. He come to the house las’ +night an’ bust the door down, tryin’ to git at missy, an’ +she’s run away from him like a whitehead. Then, when +he finds he can’t diskiver where I hide missy he run the +hosses off an’ we have to walk heah. That’s all, Mr. +Squint, ’ceptin’ that me an’ missy doan stay in that house +no more—if we have to walk East—all the way!” +</p> +<p> +Miss Harlan saw a flash light Taylor’s eyes; saw the +flash recede, to be replaced by a chilling glow. And his +lips grew straight and stiff—two hard lines pressed +firmly together. She saw his chest swell and noted the +tenseness of his muscles as he stepped closer to her. +</p> +<p> +“Was your uncle there with you, Miss Harlan?” +</p> +<p> +She nodded, and saw his lips curve with a mirthless +smile. +</p> +<p> +“What did Carrington do?” The passion in his voice +made an icy shiver run over her—she felt the terrible +earnestness that had come over him, and a pulse of fear +gripped her. +</p> +<p> +She had never felt more like crying than at this instant, +and until this minute she had not known how deeply she +had been affected by Carrington’s conduct, nor how tired +she was, nor how she had yearned for the sympathy +Taylor was giving her. But she felt that something in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +Taylor’s manner portended violence, and she did not want +him to risk his life fighting Carrington—for her. +</p> +<p> +“You see,” she explained, “Mr. Carrington did not +really <em>do</em> anything. He just came there, and was impertinent, +and impudent, and insulting. And he told me +that he had bought the house; that it didn’t belong to uncle—though +I thought it did; and that the people of +Dawes—and everywhere—would think—things—about +me—as the people of Westwood had—thought. +And I—I—why, I just couldn’t stay——” +</p> +<p> +“That’s enough, Miss Harlan. So Carrington didn’t +do anything.” His voice was vibrant with some sternly +repressed passion. +</p> +<p> +“So you walked all the way here, and you have had +no breakfast,” he said, shortly. He turned toward the +front door, his voice snapping like the report of a rifle: +</p> +<p> +“Bud!” +</p> +<p> +And, looking through the doorway, Miss Harlan saw +Bud jump as though he had been shot. He appeared +in the doorway, serious-faced and alert. +</p> +<p> +“Rustle some breakfast—quick! And hoe out that +spare bedroom. Jump!” +</p> +<p> +Taylor understood perfectly what had happened, for +he remembered what he had overheard between Carrington +and Parsons on the train. To be sure, Miss Harlan knew +nothing about the conversation, and so she mentally commended +Taylor’s quickness of perception, and felt grateful +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +to him because he had spared her the horror of +explaining further. +</p> +<p> +She sat down again, aware of the startling unconventionality +of this visit and of the conversation that had +resulted from it, but oppressed with no sense of shame. +For it seemed entirely natural that she should have come +to Taylor, though she supposed that was because he had +been her father’s friend, and that she had no other person +to go to—not even if she went East, to Westwood. But +she would not have mentioned what had happened at the +big house if Martha had not taken the initiative. +</p> +<p> +She was startled over the change that had come in +Taylor. Watching him covertly as he stood near her, +and following his movements as he walked around in the +room, helping Bud, generously leaving her to herself +and her thoughts, she looked in vain for that gentleness +and subtle thoughtfulness that hitherto had seemed to +distinguish him. She had admired him for his easy-going +manner, the slow deliberateness of his glances, the +quizzical gleam of his eyes. +</p> +<p> +But she saw him now as many of the men in this section +of the country had seen him when he faced the necessity +for rapid, determined action. It was the other side +of his character; before she had heard his voice, and +before she had seen him smile—the stern, unyielding side +of him which she had discovered always was ready for +the blows of adversity and enmity—his fighting side. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +</p> +<p> +And when she went into the house to breakfast, feeling +the strangeness of it all—of the odd fate which had led +her to the Arrow; the queer reluctance that affected her +over the action in accepting the hospitality of a man who—except +for his association with her father—was almost +a stranger to her—she found that he did not intend to +insinuate his presence upon her. +</p> +<p> +He called her, and stood near the table when she and +Martha went in. Then he told her gravely that the house +was “hers,” and that he and Bud would live in the +bunkhouse. +</p> +<p> +“And when you get settled,” he told her, as he stood +in the doorway, ready to go, “we’ll write those articles +of partnership. And,” he added, “don’t you go to worrying +about Carrington. If he comes here, and Bud or me +ain’t here, you’ll find a loaded rifle hanging behind the +front door. Don’t be afraid to use it—there’s no law +against killing snakes out here!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span><a name='chXVIII' id='chXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—THE BEAST AGAIN</h2> +<p> +Carrington was conscious of the error his +unrestrained passion had driven him to committing. +Yet he had not been sincere when he had declared to +Martha that he wouldn’t bother the girl again. For after +leading the two horses to Dawes and arranging for their +care, he hunted up Danforth. It was nearly midnight +when Danforth reached Carrington’s rooms in the Castle, +and Carrington was in a sullen mood. +</p> +<p> +“I want two or three men who will do what they are +told and keep their mouths shut,” he told Danforth. “Get +them—quick—and send them to the Huggins house—mine, +now—and have them stay there. Nobody is to +leave the house—not even to come to town. Understand? +Not even Parsons. Hustle! There is no train +out of here tonight? No? Well, that’s all right. Get +going!” +</p> +<p> +Danforth had noticed Carrington’s sullenness, and the +strained excitement of his manner, and there was in Danforth’s +mind an inclination to warn Carrington about including +the woman in the scheme to subjugate Dawes—for +he knew Carrington of old; but a certain light in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +big man’s eyes warned Danforth and he shut his half-opened +lips and departed on his errand. +</p> +<p> +In an hour he returned, telling Carrington that his +orders had been obeyed. +</p> +<p> +Danforth seated himself in a chair near one of the +front windows and waited, for he knew Carrington still +had something to say to him—the man’s eyes told him, +for they were alight with a cold, speculative gleam as they +rested on Danforth. +</p> +<p> +At last, after a silence that lasted long, Carrington said, +shortly: +</p> +<p> +“What do you know about Taylor?” +</p> +<p> +“What I told you before—the first day. And that +isn’t much.” +</p> +<p> +“I had a talk with Parsons the other day—about +Larry Harlan,” said Carrington. “It seems that Larry +Harlan worked for Taylor—for two or three years. +I didn’t question Parsons closely about the connection +between Taylor and Harlan, but it seems to me that Parsons +mentioned a mine. What about it? Do you know +anything about it?” +</p> +<p> +Danforth related what he knew regarding the incident +of the mine—the story told by Taylor when he +returned after Larry Harlan’s death—and Carrington’s +eyes gleamed with interest. +</p> +<p> +“Do you think he told a straight story?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +He watched Danforth intently. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hell, yes!” declared the other. “He’s too square +to lie!” +</p> +<p> +Five minutes later Carrington said good-night to Danforth. +But Carrington did not immediately go to bed; +he sat for a long time in a chair near the window looking +out at the buildings of Dawes. +</p> +<p> +In the courtroom early the next morning he leaned over +Judge Littlefield’s desk, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Did you ever hear of Quinton Taylor being connected +with a mining venture?” +</p> +<p> +“Well, rather.” +</p> +<p> +“Where?” +</p> +<p> +“At Nogel—in the Sangre de Christo Mountains.” +</p> +<p> +“How far is that?” +</p> +<p> +“About ten miles—due west.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you know about the mine?” +</p> +<p> +“Very little. Taylor and a man named Lawrence Harlan +registered the claim here. I heard that Harlan died—was +killed in an accident. Soon afterward, Taylor sold +the mine—to a man named Thornton—for a consideration, +not mentioned.” The judge looked sharply at +Carrington. “Why this inquiry?” he asked; “do you +think there is anything wrong about the transaction?” +</p> +<p> +“There is no determining that until an investigation +is made.” Carrington laughed as he left the judge. +</p> +<p> +Later he got on his horse and rode to the big house. +On the front porch, seated in a chair, smoking, he saw +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +one of the men Danforth had sent in obedience to his +order; at the rear of the house was another; and, lounging +carelessly on the grass near the edge of the butte +fringing the big valley, he saw still another—men who +seemed to find their work agreeable, for they grinned +at Carrington when he rode up. +</p> +<p> +Carrington dismounted and entered the house—by one +of the rear doors—which he had wrecked the night before. +He went in boldly, grinning, for he anticipated that +by this time Marion Harlan would have reached that stage +of intimidation where she would no longer resist him. +</p> +<p> +At first he was only mildly disturbed at the appearance +of the interior; for nothing had been done to bring order +out of the chaos he had created the night before, and the +condition of the furniture, and the atmosphere of gloomy +emptiness that greeted him indicated nothing. The terror +under which the girl had labored during the night might +still be gripping her. +</p> +<p> +He had no suspicion that the girl had left the house +until after he had looked into all the rooms but the one +occupied by Parsons. Then a conviction that she <em>had</em> +fled seized him; he scowled and leaped to the door of +Parsons’ room, pounding heavily upon it. +</p> +<p> +Parsons did not answer his knock, and an instant later, +when Carrington forced the door and stepped into the +room, he saw Parsons standing near a window, pallid +and shaking. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +</p> +<p> +With a bound Carrington reached Parsons’ side and +gripped the man by the collar of his coat. +</p> +<p> +“Where’s Miss Harlan?” he demanded. He noted +that Parsons swayed in his grasp, and he peered at the +other with a malignant joy. He had always hated Parsons, +tolerating him because of Parsons’ money. +</p> +<p> +“She’s gone,” whispered Parsons tremulously. “I—I +tried to stop her, knowing you wouldn’t want it, but—she +went away—anyway.” +</p> +<p> +“Where?” Carrington’s fingers were gripping Parsons’ +shoulder near the throat with a bitter, viselike +strength that made the man cringe and groan from the +pain of it. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t, Jim; for God’s sake, don’t! You’re hurting +me! I—I couldn’t help it; I couldn’t stop her!” +</p> +<p> +The abject, terrified appeal in his eyes; the fawning, +doglike subjection of his manner, enraged Carrington. +He shook the little man with a force that racked the +other from head to heel. +</p> +<p> +“Where did she go—damn you!” +</p> +<p> +“To the Arrow.” +</p> +<p> +Aroused to desperation by the flaming fury that blazed +in Carrington’s eyes, Parsons tried to wrench himself +free, tugging desperately, and whining: “Don’t, Jim!” +For he knew that he was to be punished for his dereliction. +</p> +<p> +He shrieked when Carrington struck him; a sound +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +which died in his throat as the blow landed. Carrington +left him lie where he fell, and went out to the men, interrogating +the one he had seen on the front porch. +</p> +<p> +From that person he learned that no one had left the +house since the men had come; so that Carrington knew +Marion must have departed soon after he had left the +night before—or some time during the time of his +departure and the arrival of the men. +</p> +<p> +Ten minutes after emerging from the house he went +in again. Parsons was sitting on the floor of his room, +swaying weakly back and forth, whining tonelessly, his +lips loose and drooling blood. +</p> +<p> +For an instant Carrington stood over him, looking +down at him with a merciless, tigerlike grin. Then he +stooped, gripped Parsons by the shoulders, and, lifting +him bodily, threw him across the bed. Parsons did not +resist, but lay, his arms flung wide, watching the big +man fearfully. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t hit me again, Jim!” he pleaded. “Jim, I’ve +never done anything to you!” +</p> +<p> +“Bah!” Carrington leaned over the other, grinning +malevolently. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve double-crossed me, Elam,” he said silkily. +“You’re through. Get out of here before I kill you! +I want to; and if you are here in five minutes, I shall kill +you! Go to the Arrow—with your niece. Tell her +what you know about me—if you haven’t done so already. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +And tell her that I am coming for her—and for +Taylor, too! Now, get out!” +</p> +<p> +In less than five minutes, while Carrington was at the +front of the house talking with the three men, Parsons +tottered from a rear door, staggered weakly into some +dense shrubbery that skirted the far side of the house, +and made his slow way toward the big slope down which +Marion and Martha had gone some hours before. +</p> +<p> +Retribution had descended swiftly upon Parsons; it +seemed to him he was out of it, crushed and beaten. But +no thread of philosophy weaved its way through the fabric +of the man’s complete misery and humiliation, and no +reflection that he had merely reaped what he had sown +glimmered in his consciousness. He was merely conscious +that he had been beaten and robbed by the man who had +always been his confederate, and as he reeled down the +big slope on his way to the Arrow he whined and moaned +in a toneless voice of vengeance—and more vengeance. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span><a name='chXIX' id='chXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX—THE AMBUSH</h2> +<p> +The incident of the fight between Carrington, Danforth, +Judge Littlefield, and Taylor in front of the +courthouse had eloquently revealed a trait of Taylor’s +character which was quite generally known to the people +of Dawes, and which, in a great measure, accounted for +Taylor’s popularity. +</p> +<p> +Few of Dawes’s citizens had ever seen Taylor angry. +Neil Norton had seen him in a rage once, and the memory +of the man’s face was still vivid. A few of the town’s +citizens had watched him once—when he had thrashed +a gunman who had insulted him—and the story of that +fight still taxed the vocabularies of those who had witnessed +it. One enthusiastic watcher, at the conclusion +of the fight, had picturesquely termed Taylor a “regular +he-wolf in a scrap;” and thus there was written into the +traditions of the town a page of his history which carried +the lesson, repeated by many tongues: +</p> +<p> +“Don’t rile Taylor!” +</p> +<p> +Riding into Dawes about two hours after he had heard +from Marion Harlan the story of the attack on her by +Carrington, Taylor’s face was set and grim. His ancient +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +hatred of Carrington was intensified by another passion +that had burned its way into his heart, filling it with a +primitive lust to destroy—jealousy. +</p> +<p> +He dismounted in front of the Castle Hotel, and, entering, +he asked the clerk where he could find Carrington. +The clerk could give him no information, and Taylor +went out, the clerk’s puzzled gaze following him. +</p> +<p> +“Evidently he doesn’t want to congratulate Carrington +about anything,” the clerk confided to a bystander. +</p> +<p> +Mounting his horse, Taylor rode down the street to the +building which Danforth had selected as a place from +which to administer the government of Dawes. A gilt +sign over the front bore upon it the words: +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>CITY HALL.</p> +</div> +<p> +Taylor went inside, and found Danforth seated at a +desk. The latter looked sourly at his visitor until he +caught a glimpse of his eyes, then his face paled, and he +sat silent until Taylor spoke: +</p> +<p> +“Where’s Carrington?” +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t seen Carrington this morning,” lied Danforth, +for he <em>had</em> seen Carrington some time before, +riding out of town toward the Huggins house. He suspected +Carrington’s errand was in some way concerned +with the three men who had been sent there. But he +divined from the expression in Taylor’s eyes that trouble +between Taylor and Carrington was imminent, and he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +would not set Taylor on the other’s trail without first +warning Carrington. +</p> +<p> +He met Taylor’s straight, cold look of disbelief with +a vindictive smirk, which grew venomous as Taylor +wheeled and walked out. Taylor had not gone far when +Danforth called a man to his side, whispered rapidly to +him, telling him to hurry. Later the man slipped out of +the rear door of the building, mounted a horse, and rode +hurriedly down the river trail toward the Huggins house. +</p> +<p> +Taylor rode to the <em>Eagle</em> office, but Norton was not +there, and so, pursuing his quest, Taylor looked into saloons +and stores, and various other places. Men who +knew him noted his taciturnity—for he spoke little except +to greet a friend here and there shortly—and commented +upon his abrupt manner. +</p> +<p> +“What’s up with Taylor?” asked a man who knew +him. “Looks sort of riled.” +</p> +<p> +Taylor found Carrington in none of the places in which +he looked. He returned to the <em>Eagle</em> office, and found +Norton there. He greeted Norton with a short: +</p> +<p> +“Seen Carrington?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, yes.” Norton peered closely at his friend. +“What in blazes is wrong?” His thoughts went to another +time, when he had seen Taylor as he appeared now, +and he drew a deep breath. +</p> +<p> +Briefly Taylor told him, and when the tale was ended, +Norton’s eyes were blazing with indignation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +</p> +<p> +“So, that’s the kind of a whelp he is!” he said. “Well,” +he added, “I saw him go out on the river trail a while +ago; it’s likely he’s gone to the Huggins house.” +</p> +<p> +“His—now,” said Taylor; “that’s what makes it +worse. Well,” he added as he stepped toward the door, +“I’ll be going.” +</p> +<p> +“Be careful, Squint,” warned Norton, placing a hand +on his friend’s shoulder. “I know you can lick him—and +I hope you give him all that’s coming to him. +But watch him—he’s tricky!” He paused. “If you +need any help—someone to go with you, to keep +an eye——” +</p> +<p> +“It’s a one-man job,” grinned Taylor mirthlessly. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll promise you won’t be thinking of that ankle—this +time?” said Norton seriously. +</p> +<p> +Taylor permitted himself a faint smile. “That’s all +explained now,” he said. “She’s been a lot generous—and +forgiving. No,” he added, “I won’t be thinking of +that ankle—now!” +</p> +<p> +And then, his lips setting again, he crossed the sidewalk, +mounted Spotted Tail, and rode through town to the +river trail. Watching him, Norton saw him disappear +in some timber that fringed the river. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Carrington had finished his talk with the three men he +had set to guard the Huggins house. The men were +told to stay until they received orders from Carrington +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +to leave. And they were to report to him immediately +if anyone came. +</p> +<p> +Carrington had watched Parsons go down the big +slope; and for a long time after he had finished his talk +with the three men he stood on the front porch of the +house watching the progress made by Parsons through +the basin. +</p> +<p> +“Following Marion,” Carrington assured himself, with +a crooked smile. “Well, I’ll know where to get both of +them when I want them.” +</p> +<p> +Carrington felt not the slightest tremor of pity for +Parsons. He laughed deep in his throat with a venomous +joy as he saw Parsons slowly making his way through +the big basin; for he knew Parsons—he knew that the +craven nature of the man would prevent him from attempting +any reprisal of a vigorous character. +</p> +<p> +Yet the exultation in the big man’s heart was dulled +with a slight regret for his ruthless attack on Marion +Harlan. He should not have been so eager, he told himself; +he should have waited; he should have insinuated +himself into her good graces, and then—— +</p> +<p> +Scowling, he got on his horse and rode up the Dawes +trail, shouting a last word of caution to the three men—one +seated on the front porch, the other two lounging in +the shade of a tree near by. +</p> +<p> +Half a mile from the house, riding through a timber +grove, he met the man Danforth had sent to him. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +latter gave Carrington the message he carried, which was +merely: “Taylor is looking for you.” +</p> +<p> +“Coming here?” he asked the man sharply. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon he will be—if he can’t find you in town,” +said the man. “Danforth said Taylor was a heap fussed +up, an’ killin’ mad!” +</p> +<p> +A grayish pallor stole over Carrington’s face, and he +drew a quick breath, sending a rapid, dreading glance up +the Dawes trail. Then, coincident with a crafty backward +look—toward the Huggins house—the grayish +pallor receded and a rush of color suffused his face. He +spoke shortly to the man: +</p> +<p> +“Sneak back—by a roundabout trail. Don’t let Taylor +see you!” +</p> +<p> +He watched while the man urged his horse deep into +the fringing timber. Carrington could see him for a +time as he rode, and then, when horse and rider had vanished, +Carrington wheeled his horse and sent it clattering +back along the trail to the big house. +</p> +<p> +Arriving there, he called the three men to him and +talked fast to them. The talk ended, the men ran for +their horses, and a few minutes later they raced up the +river trail toward Dawes, their faces grim, their eyes +alert. +</p> +<p> +About a mile up the trail, where a wood of spruce and +fir-balsam spread dark shadows over the ground, and an +almost impenetrable growth of brush fringed the narrow, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +winding path over which any rider going to the big house +must pass, they separated, two plunging deep into the +brush on one side, and one man secreting himself on +the other side. +</p> +<p> +They urged their horses far back, where they could not +be seen. And then, concealing themselves behind convenient +bushes, they waited, their eyes trained on the +Dawes trail, their ears attuned to catch the slightest sound +that might come from that direction. +</p> +<p> +Back at the big house—having arranged the +ambuscade—Carrington drew a deep breath of relief and smiled +evilly. He thought he knew why Taylor was looking for +him. Marion had gone to the Arrow, to tell Taylor what +had happened at the big house, and Taylor, in a jealous +rage, intended to punish him. Well, Taylor could come +now. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span><a name='chXX' id='chXX'></a>CHAPTER XX—A FIGHT TO A FINISH</h2> +<p> +And Taylor was “coming.” The big black horse he +was riding—which he had named “Spotted Tail” +because of the white blotches that startlingly relieved his +somber sable coat—was never in better condition. He +stepped lightly, running in long, smooth leaps down the +narrow trail, champing at the bit, keen of eye, alert, eager, +snorting his impatience over the tight rein his rider kept +on him. +</p> +<p> +But Spotted Tail was not more eager than his rider. +Taylor, however, knowing that at any instant he might +run plump into Carrington, returning from the big house, +was forced to restrain his impatience. Therefore, except +on the straight reaches of the trail, he was forced to pull +the black down. +</p> +<p> +But they were traveling fast when they reached the timber +grove in which Carrington’s men were concealed; and +yet on the damp earth of the trail, where the sunlight +could not penetrate, and where the leaves of past summers +had fallen, to rot and weave a pulpy carpet, the rush +of Spotted Tail’s passing created little sound. +</p> +<p> +Within a hundred feet of the spot where Carrington’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +men were concealed, Spotted Tail shot his ears forward +stiffly and raised his muzzle inquiringly. Taylor, noting +the action, and suspecting that instinct had warned +Spotted Tail of the approach of another horse, drew the +animal down and rode forward at a walk, for he felt +that it must be Carrington’s horse which was approaching. +</p> +<p> +Rounding a sharp turn in the trail, Taylor could look +ahead for perhaps a hundred feet. He saw no rider +advancing toward him, and he leaned forward, slapping +the black’s neck in playful reproach. +</p> +<p> +As he moved he heard the heavy crash of a pistol shot +and felt the bullet sing past his head. Another pistol +barked venomously from some brush on his right, and +still another from his left. +</p> +<p> +But none of the bullets struck Taylor. For the black +horse, startled by Taylor’s playful movement when all his +senses were strained to detect the location of his kind +on the trail, had made an involuntary forward leap, thus +whisking his rider out of the line of fire. And before +either of the three men could shoot again, Spotted Tail +had flashed down the trail—a streak of somber black +against the green background of the trees. +</p> +<p> +He fled over the hundred feet of straight trail and +had vanished around a bend before the Carrington men +could move their weapons around impeding branches of +the brush that covered them. There was no stopping +Spotted Tail now, for he was in a frenzy of terror—and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> +he made a mere rushing black blot as he emerged from +the timber and fled across an open space toward another +wood—the wood that surrounded the big house. +</p> +<p> +Standing on the front porch of the big house, nervously +smoking a cigar, his face set in sullen lines, his eyes fixed +on the Dawes trail, Carrington heard the shots. He +sighed, grinned maliciously, and relaxed his vigilance. +</p> +<p> +“He’s settled by now,” he said. +</p> +<p> +He looked at one of the chairs standing on the porch, +thought of sitting in one of them to await the coming +of the three men, decided he was too impatient to sit, +and began walking back and forth on the porch. +</p> +<p> +He had thrown a half-smoked cigar away and was +lighting another when he saw a black blot burst from the +edge of a timber-clump beyond an open space. The +match flared and went out as Carrington held it to the end +of the cigar, for there was something strangely familiar +in the shape of the black blot—even with it heading +directly toward him. An instant later, the blot looming +larger in his vision, Carrington dropped cigar and match +and stood staring with wild, fear-haunted eyes at the +rushing black horse. +</p> +<p> +Carrington stood motionless a little longer—until the +black horse, its rider sitting straight in the saddle, in cowboy +fashion, reached the edge of the wood surrounding +the house. Then Carrington, cursing, his lips in a hideous +pout, drew a pistol from a hip-pocket. And when the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +black horse was within fifty feet of him, and still coming +at a speed which there was no gauging, Carrington leveled +the pistol. +</p> +<p> +Once—twice—three, four, five, six times he pulled +the trigger of the weapon. Carrington saw a grim, mocking +smile on the rider’s face, and knew none of his bullets +had taken effect. +</p> +<p> +Unarmed now, he was suddenly stricken with a panic +of fear; and while the rider of the black horse was dismounting +at the edge of the porch, Carrington dove for +the front door of the house and vanished inside, slamming +the door behind him, directly in the rider’s face. +</p> +<p> +When Taylor threw the door open he saw Carrington, +far back in the room, swinging a chair over his head. +At Taylor’s appearance he threw the chair with all the +force his frenzy of fear could put into the effort. Taylor +ducked, and the chair flew past him, sailing uninterruptedly +outside and over the porch railing. +</p> +<p> +Carrington ran through the big front room, through +the next room—the sitting-room—knocking chairs over +in his flight, throwing a big center table at his silent, +implacable pursuer. He slammed the sitting-room door +and tried to lock it, but he could not turn the key quickly +enough, and Taylor burst the door open, almost plunging +against Carrington as he came through it. +</p> +<p> +Carrington ran into the dining-room, shoved the dining-room +table in Taylor’s way as Taylor tried to reach +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +him; but Taylor leaped over the obstruction, and when +Carrington dodged into Marion Harlan’s room, Taylor +was so close that he might have grasped the big man. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had said no word. The big man saw two guns +swinging at Taylor’s hips, and he wondered vaguely why +the man did not use them. It occurred to Carrington as +he plunged through Marion Harlan’s room into Martha’s, +and from there to the kitchen, and back again to the +dining-room, that Taylor was not going to shoot him, and +his panic partially left him. +</p> +<p> +And yet there was a gleam in Taylor’s eyes that made +his soul cringe in terror—the cold, bitter fury of a peaceloving +man thoroughly aroused. +</p> +<p> +Twice, as Taylor pursued Carrington through the sitting-room +again and into another big room that adjoined +it, Carrington’s courage revived long enough to permit +him to consider making a stand against Taylor, but each +time as he stiffened with the determination, the terrible +rage in Taylor’s eyes dissuaded him, and he continued to +evade the clash. +</p> +<p> +But he knew that the clash must come, and when, in +their rapid, headlong movements, Carrington came close +to the front door and tried to slip out of it, Taylor lunged +against him and struck at him, the fist just grazing Carrington’s +jaw, the big man understood that Taylor was +intent on beating him with his fists. +</p> +<p> +Had it not been for his previous encounter with Taylor, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +Carrington would not have hesitated, for he knew how to +protect himself in a fight; but there was something in +Taylor’s eyes now to add to the memory of that other +fight, and Carrington wanted no more of it. +</p> +<p> +But at last he was forced to stand. Ducking to evade +the blow aimed at his jaw when he tried to dart out of the +front door, he slipped. Reeling, in an effort to regain his +equilibrium, he plunged into another big room. It was +a room that was little used—an old-fashioned parlor, +kept trim and neat against the coming of visitors, but a +room whose gloominess the occupants of the house usually +avoided. +</p> +<p> +The shades were down, partly concealing heavy wooden +blinds—which were closed. And the only light in the +room was that which came from a little square window +high up in the side wall. +</p> +<p> +Before Carrington could regain his balance Taylor had +entered the room. He closed the door behind him, placed +his back against it, locked it, and grinned felinely at the +big man. +</p> +<p> +“Your men are coming, Carrington,” he said—“hear +them?” In the silence that followed his words both +stood, listening to the beat of hoofs near the house. +“They’ll be trying to get in here in a minute,” went on +Taylor. “But before they get in I’m going to knock your +head off!” And without further warning he was upon +Carrington, striking bitterly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +</p> +<p> +It seemed to Carrington that the man was endowed +with a savage strength entirely out of proportion to his +stature, and that he was able to start terrific, deadening +blows from any angle. For though Carrington was a +strong man and had had some fighting experience, he +could neither evade Taylor’s blows nor stand against +the impact of them. +</p> +<p> +He went reeling around the room under the impetus +of Taylor’s terrible rushes, struggling to defend himself, +to dodge, to clinch, to evade somehow the fists that were +flying at him from all directions. He could not get an +instant’s respite in which to set himself. Three times in +succession he was knocked down so heavily that the house +shook with the crash of his body striking the floor, and +each time when he got to his feet he tried to fight Taylor +off in an endeavor to set himself for a blow. But he +could not. He was knocked against the walls of the room, +and hammered away from them with stiff, jolty, venomous +blows that jarred him from head to heels. He tried +vainly to cover up—with his arms locked about his head +he crouched and tried to rush Taylor off his feet, knowing +he was stronger than the other, and that his only hope +was in clinching. But Taylor held him off with savage +uppercuts and terrific short-arm swings that smashed +his lips. +</p> +<p> +He began to mutter in a whining, vicious monotone; +twice he kicked at Taylor, and twice he was knocked down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> +as a punishment for his foul methods. Finding his methods +ineffectual, and discovering that covering his face +with his arms did not materially lessen the punishment he +was receiving, he began to stand up straight, taking blows +in an effort to land one. +</p> +<p> +But Taylor eluded him; Carrington’s blows did not +land. Raging and muttering, roaring with impotent passion, +he whipped the air with his arms, almost jerking +them out of their sockets. +</p> +<p> +Stiff and taut, his muscles accommodating themselves +to every demand he made on them, and in perfect coordination +with his brain—and the purpose of his brain +to inflict upon Carrington the maximum of punishment +for his dastardly attack on Marion Harlan—Taylor +worked fast and furiously. For he heard Carrington’s +three men in the next room; he heard them try the door; +heard them call to Carrington. +</p> +<p> +And then, convinced that the fight must be ended +quickly, before the men should break down the door and +have him at a disadvantage, Taylor finished it. He +smothered Carrington with a succession of stiff-arm, +straight punches that glazed the other’s eyes and sent him +reeling around the room. And, at last, over in a corner +near the little window, Carrington went down flat on his +back, his eyes closed, his arms flung wide. +</p> +<p> +Panting from his exertions, Taylor drew his guns and +ran to one of the front windows. They opened upon the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +porch, and, peering through the blinds, Taylor saw one +of the men standing at one of the windows, trying to peer +into the room. The other two, Taylor knew, were at +the door—he could hear them talking in the silence that +had followed the final falling of Carrington. +</p> +<p> +With a gun in each hand, Taylor approached the door. +He was compelled to sheath one of the guns, finding that +it interfered with the turning of the key in the lock; and +he had sheathed it and was slowly turning the key, intending +to throw the door open suddenly and take his chance +with the two men on the other side of it, when he saw +a shadow darken the little window above where Carrington +lay. +</p> +<p> +He wheeled quickly, saw a man’s face at the window, +caught the glint of a pistol. He snapped a shot at the +man, swinging his gun over his head to keep it from +striking the door as he turned. But at the movement +the man’s pistol roared, glass tinkling on the floor with +the report. The air in the room rocked with the explosion +of Taylor’s pistol, but a heavy blow on Taylor’s left +shoulder, accompanied by a twinge of pain, as though a +white-hot iron had suddenly been plunged through it, +spoiled Taylor’s aim, and his bullet went into the ceiling. +As he staggered back from the door he saw the man’s +face at the window, set in a triumphant grin. Then, as +Taylor flattened against the wall to steady himself for +another shot, the face disappeared. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +</p> +<p> +For an instant Taylor rested against the wall, his arms +outstretched along it to keep himself from falling, for the +bullet which had struck him had hurt him badly. The +wound was in the left shoulder, though, and high, and +therefore not dangerous, yet he knew it had robbed his +left arm of most of its strength—there was no feeling +in the fingers that groped along the wall. +</p> +<p> +He stepped again to the door and softly turned the key +in the lock. He heard no sound in the room beyond the +door, and, thinking that the men, curious over the shooting, +had gone outside, he jerked the door open. +</p> +<p> +The movement was greeted with deafening report and +a smoke-streak that blinded Taylor momentarily. In just +the instant before the smoke-streak Taylor had caught +a glimpse of a man standing near the center of the room +beyond the door, and though he was rather disconcerted +by the powder-flash and the searing of his left cheek by +a bullet, he let his own gun off twice in as many seconds, +and had the grim satisfaction of seeing the man stagger +and tumble headlong to the floor. +</p> +<p> +Taylor peered once at the man, to see if he needed further +attention, decided he did not, and ran toward the +front door, which opened upon the porch. +</p> +<p> +He was just in time to see one of Carrington’s men +sticking his head around a corner of the house. It was +the man who had shot him from the little window. Taylor’s +gun and the man’s roared simultaneously. Taylor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span> +had missed, for the man dodged back, and Taylor staggered, +for the man’s bullet had struck him in the left +thigh. He leaped, though limping, toward the corner, +and when almost there a pistol crashed behind him, the +bullet hitting his left shoulder, near where the other had +gone in, the force of it spinning him clear around, so +that he reeled and brought up against a porch column +where it joined the rail. +</p> +<p> +Grimly setting himself, grinning bitterly with the realization +that the men had him between them, Taylor stood +momentarily, fighting to overcome the terrible weakness +that had stolen over him. His knees were trembling, the +house, trees, and sky were agitated in sickening convolutions, +and yet when he saw the head of a man appear +from around a corner of the house at his right, he snapped +a shot at it, and instantly as it was withdrawn he staggered +to the corner, lurching heavily as he went, and turning +just as he reached it to reply to a shot sent at him from +the other corner of the house. +</p> +<p> +A smoke-spurt met him as he reeled around the corner +nearest him, and his knees sagged as he aimed his gun +at a blurring figure in front of him. He saw the man go +down, but his own strength was spent, and he knew the +last bullet had struck him in a vital spot. +</p> +<p> +Staggering drunkenly, he started for the side of the +house and brought up against it with a crash. Again, +as he had done inside the house, he stretched his arms +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span> +out, flattening himself against the wall, but this time the +arms were hanging more limply. +</p> +<p> +He was seeing things through a crimson haze, and +raising a hand, he wiped his eyes—and could see better, +though there was a queer dimness in his vision and the +world was still traveling in eccentric circles. +</p> +<p> +He saw a blur in front of him—two men, he thought, +though he knew he had accounted for two of the three +gunmen who had followed him to the house. Then he +heard a laugh—coarse and brutal—in a voice that he +knew—Carrington’s. +</p> +<p> +With heartbreaking effort he brought up his right hand, +bearing the pistol. He was trying to swing it around +to bring it to bear upon one of the two dancing figures in +front of him, when a crushing blow landed on his head, +and he knew one of the men had struck him with a fist. +He felt his own weapon go off at last—it seemed he had +been an age pressing on the trigger—and he heard a +voice again—Carrington’s—saying: “Damn him; he’s +shot me!” He laughed aloud as a gun roared close to +him; he felt another twinge of pain somewhere around +where the other twinges had come—or on the other +side—he did not know; and he sank slowly, still pressing +the trigger of his pistol, though not knowing whether +or not he was doing any damage. And then the eccentrically +whirling world became a black blur, soundless and +void. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span><a name='chXXI' id='chXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI—A MAN FACES DEATH</h2> +<p> +Taylor’s last shot, when he had been automatically +pressing the trigger after Carrington had struck +him viciously with his fist, had brought down the last of +the three men who had ambushed him. And one of his +last bullets had struck Carrington, who had recovered +consciousness and staggered out of the house in time to +see the end of the fight. And the big man, in a black, +malignant fury of hatred, was staggering toward Taylor, +lifting a foot to kick him, when from the direction of the +clearing in front of the house came a voice, hoarse and +vibrant with a cold, deadly rage: +</p> +<p> +“One kick an’ I blow the top of your head off!” +Carrington stopped short and wheeled, to face Ben +Mullarky. +</p> +<p> +The Irishman’s eyes were blazing with wrath, and as +he came forward, peering at the figures lying on the +ground near the house, Carrington retreated, holding up +his hands. +</p> +<p> +“Three of ye pilin’ on one, eh?” said Mullarky as he +looked down at Taylor, huddled against the side of +the house. “An’ ye got him, too, didn’t ye? I’ve a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +domn big notion to blow the top of your head off, +anny way. Ye slope, ye big limb of the divvle, or I’ll +do it!” +</p> +<p> +Mullarky watched while Carrington mounted his horse +and rode up the river trail toward Dawes, and the instant +Carrington was out of sight, Mullarky was down on his +knees beside Taylor, taking a lightning inventory of his +wounds. +</p> +<p> +“Four of them, looks like!” he muttered thickly, his +voice shaking with pity for the slack, limp, smoke-blackened +figure that lay silent, the trace of a smile on its face. +“An’ two of them through the shoulder!” He paused, +awed. “Lord, what a shindy!” +</p> +<p> +Then, swiftly gulping down his sympathy and his rage, +Mullarky ran to his horse, which he had left at the edge of +the wood when he had heard the shooting. He led the +animal back to where Taylor lay, tenderly lifted Taylor +in his arms, walked to the horse, and after much labor +got Taylor up in front of him on the horse, Taylor’s +weight resting on his legs, the man’s head and shoulders +resting against him, to ease the jars of the journey. +</p> +<p> +Then he started, traveling as swiftly as possible down +the big slope toward his own house, not so very far away. +</p> +<p> +Spotted Tail, jealously watching his master, saw him +lifted to the back of the other horse. Shrewdly suspecting +that all was not going well, and that his master would need +him presently, Spotted Tail trotted after Mullarky. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +</p> +<p> +In this manner, with Spotted Tail a few paces in his +rear, Mullarky, still tenderly carrying his burden, reached +his cabin. +</p> +<p> +He stilled Mrs. Mullarky’s hysterical questions with a +short command: +</p> +<p> +“Hitch up the buckboard while I’m gettin’ him in +shape!” +</p> +<p> +And then, while Mrs. Mullarky did as she was bidden, +Mullarky carried Taylor inside the cabin, bathed his +wounds, stanching the flow of blood as best he could—and +came out again, carrying Taylor, and placed him in +the bed of the light spring-wagon, upon some quilts—and +upon a pillow that Mrs. Mullarky ran into the house +to get, emerging with the reproach: +</p> +<p> +“You’d be lettin’ him ride on them hard boards!” +</p> +<p> +Following Mullarky’s instructions, Mrs. Mullarky +climbed to the driver’s seat and sent the buckboard toward +the Arrow, driving as fast as she thought she dared. +And Ben Mullarky, on Spotted Tail, turned his face +toward Dawes, riding as he had never ridden before. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Parsons had reached the Arrow shortly after Taylor +had departed for Dawes. The man had stopped at the +Mullarky cabin to inquire the way from the lady, and +she had frankly commented upon Parsons’ battered +appearance. +</p> +<p> +“So it was Carrington that mauled you, eh?” she said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +“Well, he’s a mighty evil man—the divvle take his +sowl!” +</p> +<p> +Parsons concurred in this view of Carrington, though +he did not tell Mrs. Mullarky so. He went on his way, +refusing the good woman’s proffer of a horse, for he +wanted to go afoot to the Arrow. He felt sure of Marion’s +sympathy, but he wanted to make himself as pitiable +an object as possible. And as he walked toward the +Arrow he mentally dramatized the moment of his appearance +at the ranchhouse—a bruised and battered figure +dragging itself wearily forward, dusty, thirst-tortured, +and despairing. He knew that spectacle would win the +girl’s swift sympathy. The fact that the girl herself had +been through almost the same experience did not affect +him at all—he did not even think of it. +</p> +<p> +And when Parsons reached the Arrow the scene was +even as he had dreamed it—Marion Harlan had seen +him from afar, and came running to him, placing an arm +about him, helping him forward, whispering words of +sympathy in his ears, so that Parsons really began to look +upon himself as a badly abused martyr. +</p> +<p> +Marion cared for him tenderly, once she got him into +the ranchhouse. She bathed his bruised face, prepared +breakfast for him, and later, learning from him that he +had not slept during the night, she sent him off to bed, +asking him as he went into the room if he had seen Ben +Mullarky. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> +</p> +<p> +“For,” she added, “he came here early this morning, +after Mr. Taylor left, and I sent him to the big house to +get some things for me.” +</p> +<p> +But Parsons had not seen Mullarky. +</p> +<p> +And at last, when the morning was nearly gone, and +Marion saw a horse-drawn vehicle approaching the Arrow +from the direction of Dawes, she ran out, thinking Ben +Mullarky had brought her “things” in his buckboard. +But it was not Ben who was coming, but Mrs. Mullarky. +The lady’s face was very white and serious, and when +the girl came close and she saw the look on the good +woman’s face, she halted in her tracks and stood rigid, +her own face paling. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Mrs. Mullarky, what has happened?” +</p> +<p> +“Enough, deary.” Mrs. Mullarky waved an eloquent +hand toward the rear of the buckboard, and slowly approaching, +the girl saw the huddled figure lying there, +swathed in quilts. +</p> +<p> +She drew her breath sharply, and with pallid face, +swaying a little, she walked to the rear of the buckboard +and stood, holding hard to the rim of a wheel, looking +down at Taylor’s face with its closed eyes and its ghastly +color. +</p> +<p> +She must have screamed, then, for she felt Mrs. Mullarky’s +arms around her, and she heard the lady’s voice, +saying: “Don’t, deary; he ain’t dead, yet—an’ he won’t +die—we won’t let him die.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> +</p> +<p> +She stood there by the buckboard for a time—until +Mrs. Mullarky, running to one of the outbuildings, returned +with Bud Hemmingway. Then, nerved to the +ordeal by Bud’s businesslike methods, and the awful profanity +that gushed from his clenched teeth, she helped +them carry Taylor into the house. +</p> +<p> +They took Taylor into his own room and laid him on +the bed; a long, limp figure, pitifully shattered, lying +very white and still. +</p> +<p> +The girl stayed in the room while Mrs. Mullarky and +Bud ran hither and thither getting water, cloths, stimulants, +and other indispensable articles. And during one +of their absences the girl knelt beside the bed, and resting +her head close to Taylor’s—with her hands stroking his +blackened face—she whispered: +</p> +<p> +“O Lord, save him—save him for—for me!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span><a name='chXXII' id='chXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII—LOOKING FOR TROUBLE</h2> +<p> +Before night the Arrow outfit, led by Bothwell, +the range boss, came into the ranchhouse. For the +news had reached them—after the manner in which all +news travels in the cow-country—by word of mouth—and +they had come in—all those who could be spared—to +determine the truth of the rumor. +</p> +<p> +There were fifteen of them, rugged, capable-looking +fellows; and despite the doctor’s objections, they filed +singly, though noiselessly, into Taylor’s room and silently +looked down upon their “boss.” Marion, watching them +from a corner of the room, noted their quick gulps of +pity, their grim faces, the savage gleams that came into +their eyes, and she knew they were thinking of vengeance +upon the men who had wrought the injury to their +employer. +</p> +<p> +Bothwell—big, grim, and deliberate of manner—said +nothing as he looked down into his chief’s face. But +later, outside the house, listening to Bud Hemmingway’s +recital of how Taylor had been brought to the ranchhouse, +Bothwell said shortly: +</p> +<p> +“I’m takin’ a look!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span> +</p> +<p> +Shortly afterward, followed by every man of the outfit +who had ridden in with him, Bothwell crossed the big +basin and sent his horse up the long slope to the big house. +</p> +<p> +Outside they came upon the bodies of the two men +with whom Taylor had fought. And inside the house +they saw the other huddled on the floor near a door in the +big front room. Silently the men filed through the house, +looking into all the rooms, and noting the wreck and ruin +that had been wrought. They saw the broken glass of +the little window through which one of Carrington’s men +had fired the first shot; they noted the hole in the ceiling—caused +by a bullet from Taylor’s pistol; and they saw +another hole in the wall near the door beside which Taylor +had been standing just before he had swung the door open. +</p> +<p> +“Three of them—an’ Carrington—accordin’ to what +Bud says,” said Bothwell. “That’s four.” He smiled +bitterly. “They got him all right—almost, I reckon. +But from the looks of things they must have had a roarin’ +picnic doin’ it!” +</p> +<p> +Not disturbing anything, the entire outfit mounted and +rode swiftly down the Dawes trail, their hearts swelling +with sympathy for Taylor and passionate hatred for Carrington, +“itching for a clean-up,” as one sullen-looking +member of the outfit described his feelings. +</p> +<p> +But there was no “clean-up.” When they reached +Dawes they found the town quiet—and men who saw +them gave them plenty of room and forebore to argue with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> +them. For it was known that they were reckless, hardy +spirits when the mood came upon them, and that they +worshiped Taylor. +</p> +<p> +And so they entered Dawes, and Dawes treated them +with respect. Passing the city hall, they noticed some +men grouped in front of the building, and they halted, +Bothwell dismounting and entering. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the gang collectin’ for?” he asked a man—whom +he knew for Danforth. There was a belligerent +thrust to Bothwell’s chin, and a glare in his eyes that, +Danforth felt, must be met with diplomacy. +</p> +<p> +“There’s been trouble at the Huggins house, and I’m +sending these men to investigate.” +</p> +<p> +“Give them diggin’ tools,” said Bothwell grimly. “An’ +remember this—if there’s any more herd-ridin’ of our +boss the Arrow outfit is startin’ a private graveyard!” +He pinned the mayor with a cold glare: “Where’s +Carrington?” +</p> +<p> +“In his rooms—under a doctor’s care. He’s hit—bad. +A bullet in his side.” +</p> +<p> +“Ought to be in his gizzard!” growled Bothwell. He +went out, mounted, and led his men away. They were +reluctant to leave town, but Bothwell was insistent. +“They ain’t no fight in that bunch of plug-uglies!” he +scoffed. “We’ll go back an’ ’tend to business, an’ pull +for the boss to get well!” +</p> +<p> +And so they returned to the Arrow, to find that the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +Dawes doctor was still with Taylor. The doctor sent out +word to them that there was a slight chance for his patient, +and satisfied that they had done all they could, they +rode away, to attend to “business.” +</p> +<p> +For the first time in her life Marion Harlan was witnessing +the fight of a strong man to live despite grievous +wounds that, she was certain, would have instantly killed +most men. But Taylor fought his fight unconsciously, +for he was still in that deep coma that had descended +upon him when he had gently slipped to the ground beside +the house, still fighting, still scorning the efforts of his +enemies to finish him. +</p> +<p> +And during the first night’s fever he still fought; the +powerful sedatives administered by the doctor had little +effect. In his delirium he muttered such terms and +phrases as these: “Run, damn you—run! I ain’t in +any hurry, and I’ll get you!” And—“I’ll certainly +smash you some!” And—“A ‘thing,’ eh—I’ll show +you! She’s mine, you miserable whelp!” +</p> +<p> +Whether these were thoughts, or whether they were +memories of past utterances, made vivid and brought into +the present by the fever, the girl did not know. She sat +beside his bed all night, with the doctor near her, waiting +and watching and listening. +</p> +<p> +And she heard more: “That’s Larry’s girl, and it’s +up to me to protect her.” And—“I knew she’d look like +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +that.” Also—“They’re both tryin’ to send her to hell! +But I’ll fool them!” At these times there was ineffable +tenderness in his voice. But at times he broke out in +terrible wrath. “Ambush me, eh? Ha, ha! That was +right clever of you, Spotted Tail—we didn’t make a +good target, did we? Only for your sense we’d +have—” He ceased, to begin anew: “I’ve got <em>you</em>—damn +you!” And then he would try to sit erect, swinging +his arms as though he were trying to hit someone. +</p> +<p> +But toward morning he fell into a fitful sleep—the +sleep of exhaustion; and when the dawn came, Mrs. Mullarky +ordered the girl, pale and wan from her night’s +vigilance and service, to “go to bed.” +</p> +<p> +For three days it was the same. And for three days +the doctor stayed at the side of the patient, only sleeping +when Miss Harlan watched over Taylor. +</p> +<p> +And during the three days’ vigil, Taylor’s delirium +lasted. The girl learned more of his character during +those three days of constant watchfulness than she would +have learned in as many years otherwise. That he was +honorable and courageous, she knew; but that he was so +sincerely apprehensive over her welfare she had never +suspected. For she learned through his ravings that he +had fought Carrington and the three men for her; that +he had deliberately sought Carrington to punish him for +the attack on her, and that he had not considered his own +danger at all. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> +</p> +<p> +And at the beginning of the fourth day, when he opened +his eyes and stared wonderingly about the room, his gaze +at first resting upon the doctor, and then traveling to the +girl’s face, and remaining there for a long time, while a +faint smile wreathed his lips, the girl’s heart beat high +with delight. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m still a going it,” he said weakly. +</p> +<p> +“I remember,” he went on, musingly. “When they +was handing it to me, I was thinking that I was in pretty +bad shape. And then they must have handed it to me +some more, for I quit thinking at all. I’m going to pull +through—ain’t I?” +</p> +<p> +“You are!” declared the doctor. “That is,” he +amended, “if you keep your trap shut and do a lot of +sleeping.” +</p> +<p> +“For which I’m going to have a lot of time,” smiled +Taylor. “I’m going to sleep, for I feel mighty like sleeping. +But before I do any sleeping, there’s a thing I want +to know. Did Carrington’s men—the last two—get +away, or did I——” +</p> +<p> +“You did,” grinned the doctor. “Bothwell rode over +there to find out—and Mullarky saw them. Mullarky +brought you back—and got me.” +</p> +<p> +“Carrington?” inquired the patient. +</p> +<p> +“Mullarky saw him. He says he never saw a man so +beat up in his life. Besides, you shot him, too—in the +side. Not dangerous, but a heap painful.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +</p> +<p> +Taylor smiled and looked at Miss Harlan. “I knew +you were here,” he said; “I’ve felt you near me. It was +mighty comforting, and I want to thank you for it. There +were times when I must have shot off my mouth a heap. +If I said anything I shouldn’t have said, I’m a whole lot +sorry. And I’m asking your pardon.” +</p> +<p> +“You didn’t,” she said, her eyes eloquent with joy +over the improvement in him. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, I’m going to sleep.” He raised his right +hand—his good one—and waved it gayly at them—and +closed his eyes. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span><a name='chXXIII' id='chXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII—A WORLD-OLD LONGING</h2> +<p> +Looking back upon the long period of Taylor’s +convalescence, Marion Harlan could easily understand +why she had surrendered to the patient. +</p> +<p> +In the first place, she had liked Taylor from the very +beginning—even when she had affected to ridicule him +on the train coming toward Dawes. She had known all +along that she had liked him, and on that morning when +she had visited the Arrow to ask about her father Taylor +had woven a magnetic spell about her. +</p> +<p> +That meeting and the succeeding ones had merely +strengthened her liking for him. But the inevitable intimacy +between nurse and patient during several long weeks +of convalescence had wrought havoc with her heart. +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s unfailing patience and good humor had been +another factor in bringing about her surrender. It was +hard for her to believe that he had fought a desperate +battle which had resulted in the death of three men and +the wounding of Carrington and himself; for there were +no savage impulses or passions gleaming in the eyes that +followed her every movement while she had been busy +in the sickroom for some weeks. Nor could she see any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span> +lingering threat in them, promising more violence upon +his recovery. He seemed to have forgotten that there +had been a fight, and during the weeks that she had been +close to him he had not even mentioned it. He had been +content, it seemed, to lounge in a chair and listen to her +while she read, to watch her; and there had been times +when she had seen a glow in his eyes that told her things +that she longed to hear him say. +</p> +<p> +The girl’s surrender had not been conveyed to Taylor +in words, though she was certain he knew of it; for the +signs of it must have been visible, since she could feel +the blushes in her cheeks at times when a word or a look +passing between them was eloquent with the proof of her +aroused emotions. +</p> +<p> +It was on a morning about six weeks following the +incident of the shooting that she and Taylor had walked +to the river. Upon a huge flat rock near the edge of a +slight promontory they seated themselves, Taylor turned +slightly, so that she had only a profile view of him. +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s thoughts were grave. For from where he and +the girl sat—far beyond the vast expanse of green-brown +grass that carpeted the big level—he could see a huge +cleft in some mountains. And the sight of that cleft sent +Taylor’s thoughts leaping back to the days he and Larry +Harlan had spent in these mountains, searching for—and +finding—that gold for which they had come. And inevitably +as the contemplation of the mountains brought +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> +him recollections of Larry Harlan he was reminded of his +obligation to his old-time partner. And the difficulties of +discharging that obligation were increasing, it seemed. +</p> +<p> +At least, Taylor’s duty was not quite clear to him. +For while Parsons still retained a place in the girl’s affections +he could not turn over to her Larry’s share of the +money he had received from the sale of the mine. +</p> +<p> +And Parsons did retain the girl’s affections—likewise +her confidence and trust. A man must be blind who could +not see that. For the girl looked after him as any dutiful +girl might care for a father she loved. Her attitude +toward the man puzzled Taylor, for, he assured himself, +if she would but merely study the man’s face perfunctorily +she could not have failed to see the signs of deceit +and hypocrisy in it. All of which convinced Taylor of +the truth of the old adage: “Love is blind.” +</p> +<p> +One other influence which dissuaded Taylor from an +impulse to turn over Larry’s money to the girl was his +determination to win her on his own merits. That might +have seemed selfishness on his part, but now that the girl +was at the Arrow he could see that she was well supplied +with everything she needed. Her legacy would not buy +her more than he would give her gratuitously. And he +did not want her to think for a single moment he was +trying to buy her love. That, to his mind was gross +commercialism. +</p> +<p> +Marion was not looking at the mountains; she was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +watching Taylor’s profile—and blushing over thoughts +that came to her. +</p> +<p> +For she wished that she might have met him under +different conditions—upon a basis of equality. And +that was not the basis upon which they stood now. She +had come to the Arrow because she had no other place to +go, vindicating her action upon Taylor’s declaration that +he had been her father’s friend. +</p> +<p> +That had been a tangible premise, and was sufficient to +satisfy, or to dull, any surface scruples he might have +had regarding the propriety of the action. But her own +moral sense struck deeper than that. She felt she had +no right to be here; that Taylor had made the offer of a +partnership out of charity. And so long as she stayed +here, dependent upon him for food and shelter, she could +not permit him to speak a word of love to her—much +as she wanted him to speak it. Such was the puritanical +principle driven deep into the moral fabric of her character +by a mother who had set her a bad example. +</p> +<p> +This man had fought for her; he had risked his life +to punish a man who had wronged her in thought, only; +and she knew he loved her. And yet, seated so near him, +she could not put out the hand that longed to touch +him. +</p> +<p> +However, her thoughts were not tragic—far from it! +Youth is hopeful because it has so long to wait. And +there was in her heart at this moment a presentiment that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> +time would sever the bonds of propriety that held her. +And the instincts of her sex—though never having been +tested in the arts of coquetry—told her how to keep his +heart warm toward her until that day, having achieved +her independence, she could meet him on a basis of +equality. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Squint,” she suddenly demanded; “what are you +thinking about?” +</p> +<p> +He turned and looked full at her, his eyes glowing +with a grave humor. +</p> +<p> +“I’d tell you if I thought you’d listen to me,” he +returned, significantly. “But it seems that every time I +get on that subject you poke fun at me. Is there <em>anything</em> +I can do to show you that I love you—that I want you +more than any man ever wanted a woman?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes—there is.” Her smile was tantalizing. +</p> +<p> +“Name it!” he demanded, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Stop being tragic. I don’t like you when you are +tragic—or when you are talking nonsense about love. +I have heard so much of it!” +</p> +<p> +“From me, I suppose?” he said, gloomily. +</p> +<p> +He had turned his head and she shot a quick, eloquent +glance at him. “From you—and several others,” she +said, deliberately. +</p> +<p> +There was a resentful, hurt look in his eyes when he +turned and looked at her. “Just how many?” he demanded, +somewhat gruffly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +</p> +<p> +“Jealous!” she said, shaking her finger at him. “Do +you want a bill of particulars? Because if you do,” she +added, looking demurely downward, “I should have to +take several days to think it over. You see, a woman +can’t catalogue everything men say to her—for they say +so many silly things!” +</p> +<p> +“Love isn’t silly,” he declared. He looked rather +fiercely at her. “What kind of a man do you like best?” +he demanded. +</p> +<p> +She blushed. “I like a big man—about as big as +you,” she said. “A man with fierce eyes that glower at +a woman when she talks to him of love—she insisting +that she hasn’t quite fallen in love—with <em>him</em>. I like a +man who is jealous of the reputation of the woman he +<em>professes</em> to love; a man who is jealous of other men; a +man who isn’t so very good-looking, but who is a handsome +man for all that—because he is so very manly; a +man who will fight and risk his life for me.” +</p> +<p> +“Could you name such a man?” he said. There was a +scornful gleam in his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“I am looking at him this minute!” she said. +</p> +<p> +Grinning, for he knew all along that she had been talking +of him, he wheeled quickly and tried to catch her in +his arms. But she slipped off the rock and was around +on the other side of it, keeping it between them while he +tried to catch her. Instinctively he realized that the +chase was hopeless, but he persisted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ll never speak to you again if you catch me!” she +warned, her eyes flashing. +</p> +<p> +“But you told me——” +</p> +<p> +“That I liked you,” she interrupted. “And liking a +man isn’t——” +</p> +<p> +And then she paused and looked down, blushing, while +Taylor, in the act of vaulting over the rock, collapsed and +sat on it instead, red of face and embarrassed. +</p> +<p> +For within a dozen paces of them, and looking rather +embarrassed and self-conscious, himself, though with a +twinkle in his eyes that made Taylor’s cheeks turn redder—was +Bud Hemmingway. +</p> +<p> +“I’m beggin’ your pardon,” said the puncher; “but +I’ve come to tell you that Neil Norton is here—again. +He’s been settin’ on the porch for an hour or two—he +says. But I think he’s stretching it. Anyway, he’s tired +of waitin’ for you—he says—an’ he’s been wonderin’ +if you was goin’ to set on that boulder all day!” +</p> +<p> +Taylor slipped off the rock and started toward Bud, +feigning resentment. +</p> +<p> +Bud, his face agitated by a broad grin, deliberately +winked at Miss Harlan—though he spoke to Taylor. +</p> +<p> +“I’d be a little careful about how I went to jumpin’ +off boulders—you might bust your ankle again!” +</p> +<p> +And then Taylor grinned at Miss Harlan—who pretended +a severity she did not feel; while Bud, cackling +mirthfully, went toward the ranchhouse. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span><a name='chXXIV' id='chXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV—A DEATH WARRANT</h2> +<p> +Carrington was not a coward; he was not even +a cautious man. And the bitter malice that filled +his heart, together with riotous impulses that seethed in +his brain prompted him to go straight to the Arrow, +wreak vengeance upon Taylor and drag Marion Harlan +back to the big house he had bought for her. +</p> +<p> +But a certain memory of Taylor’s face when the latter +had been pursuing him through the big house; a knowledge +of Taylor’s ability to inflict punishment, together +with a divination that Taylor would not hesitate to kill +him should there arise the slightest opportunity—all +these considerations served to deter Carrington from +undertaking any rash action. +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s opposition to his desires enraged Carrington. +He had met and conquered many men—and he had coolly +and deliberately robbed many others, himself standing +secure and immune behind legal barriers. And he had +seen his victims writhe and squirm and struggle in the +meshes he had prepared for them. He had heard them +rave and wail and threaten; but not one of them had +attempted to inflict physical punishment upon him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> +</p> +<p> +Taylor, however, was of the fighting type. On two +occasions, now, Carrington had been given convincing +proof of the man’s ability. And he had seen in Taylor’s +eyes on the latest occasion the implacable gleam of iron +resolution and—when Taylor had gone down, fighting +to the last, in the sanguinary battle at the big house, he +had not failed to note the indomitability of the man—the +tenacious and dogged spirit that knows no defeat—a +spirit that would not be denied. +</p> +<p> +And so, though Carrington’s desires would have led +him to recklessly carry the fight to the Arrow, certain +dragging qualms of reluctance dissuaded him from another +meeting with Taylor on equal terms. +</p> +<p> +And yet the malevolent passions that gripped the big +man would not tolerate the thought of opposition. Taylor +was the only man who stood between him and his desires, +and Taylor must be removed. +</p> +<p> +During the days of Carrington’s confinement to his +rooms above the Castle—awaiting the slow healing of +the wound Taylor had inflicted upon him, and the many +bruises that marred his face—mementoes of the terrible +punishment Taylor had inflicted upon him—the big man +nursed his venomous thoughts and laid plans for revenge +upon his enemy. +</p> +<p> +As soon as he was able to appear in Dawes—to undergo +without humiliation the inspection of his face by +the citizens of the town—for news of his punishment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> +had been whispered broadcast—he boarded a westbound +train. +</p> +<p> +He got off at Nogel, a little mining town sitting at the +base of some foothills in the Sangre de Christo Range, +some miles from Dawes. +</p> +<p> +He spent three days in Nogel, interrogating the resident +manager of the “Larry’s Luck” mine, talking with +miners and storekeepers and quizzing men in saloons—and +at the beginning of the fourth day he returned to +Dawes. +</p> +<p> +At about the time Miss Harlan and Taylor were sitting +on the rock on the bank of the river near the Arrow, +Carrington was in the courthouse at Dawes, leaning over +Judge Littlefield’s desk. A tall, sleek-looking man of +middle age, with a cold, steady eye and a smooth smile, +stood near Carrington. The man was neatly attired, and +looked like a prosperous mine-owner or operator. +</p> +<p> +But had the judge looked sharply at his hands when he +gripped the one that was held out to him when Carrington +introduced the man; or had he been a physiognomist of +average ability, he could not have failed to note the +smooth softness of the man’s hands and the gleam of guile +and cunning swimming deep in his eyes. +</p> +<p> +But the judge noted none of those things. He had +caught the man’s name—Mint Morton—and instantly +afterward all his senses became centered upon what the +man was saying. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> +</p> +<p> +For the man spoke of conscience—and the judge had +one of his own—a guilty one. So he listened attentively +while the man talked. +</p> +<p> +The thing had been bothering the man for some months—or +from the time it happened, he said. And he had +come to make a confession. +</p> +<p> +He was a miner, having a claim near Nogel. He knew +Quinton Taylor, and he had known Larry Harlan. One +morning after leaving his mine on a trip to Nogel for +supplies, he had passed close to the “Larry’s Luck” +mine. Being on good terms with the partners, he had +thought of visiting them. Approaching the mine on foot—having +left his horse at a little distance—he heard +Taylor and Harlan quarreling. He had no opportunity +to interfere, for just as he came upon the men he saw +Taylor knock Harlan down with a blow of his fist. And +while Harlan lay unconscious on the ground Taylor had +struck him on the head with a rock. +</p> +<p> +Morton had not revealed himself, then, fearing Taylor +would attack him. He had concealed himself, and had +seen Taylor, apparently remorseful, trying to revive +Harlan. These efforts proving futile, Taylor had rigged +up a drag, placed Harlan on it, and had taken him to +Nogel. But Harlan died on the way. +</p> +<p> +To Littlefield’s inquiry as to why Morton had not reported +the murder instantly, the man replied that, being +a friend to Taylor, he had been reluctant to expose him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +</p> +<p> +After the man concluded his story the judge and Carrington +exchanged glances. There was a vindictively +triumphant gleam in Littlefield’s eyes, for he still remembered +the humiliation he had endured at Taylor’s hands. +</p> +<p> +He took Morton’s deposition, told him he would send +for him, later; and dismissed him. Carrington, appearing +to be much astonished over the man’s confession, +accompanied him to the station, where he watched him +board the train that would take him back to Nogel. +</p> +<p> +And on the platform of one of the coaches, Carrington, +grinning wickedly, gave the man a number of yellow-backed +treasury notes. +</p> +<p> +“You think I won’t have to come back—to testify +against him?” asked the man, smiling coldly. +</p> +<p> +“Certainly not!” declared Carrington. “You’ve +signed his death warrant this time!” +</p> +<p> +Carrington watched the train glide westward, and then +returned to the courthouse. He found the judge sitting +at his desk, gazing meditatively at the floor. For there +had been something insincere in Morton’s manner—his +story of the murder had not been quite convincing—and +in spite of his resentment against Taylor the judge did +not desire to add anything to the burden already carried +by his conscience. +</p> +<p> +Carrington grinned maliciously as he halted at Littlefield’s +side and laid a hand on the other’s arm. +</p> +<p> +“We’ve got him, Littlefield!” he said. “Get busy. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span> +Issue a warrant for his arrest. I’ll have Danforth send +you some men to serve as deputies—twenty of them, if +you think it necessary!” +</p> +<p> +The judge cleared his throat and looked with shifting +eyes at the other. +</p> +<p> +“Look here, Carrington,” he said, “I—I have some +doubts about the sincerity of that man Morton. I’d like +to postpone action in this case until I can make an investigation. +It seems to me that—that Taylor, for all his—er—seeming +viciousness, is not the kind of man to kill +his partner. I’d like to delay just a little, to——” +</p> +<p> +“And let Taylor get wind of the thing—and escape. +Not by a damned sight! One man’s word is as good as +another’s in this country; and it’s your duty as a judge +of the court, here, to act upon any complaint. You issue +the warrant. I’ll get Keats to serve it. He’ll bring Taylor +here, and you can legally examine him. That’s merely +justice!” +</p> +<p> +Half an hour later, Carrington was handing the warrant +to a big, rough-looking man with an habitual and +cruel droop to the corners of his mouth. +</p> +<p> +“You’d better take some men with you, Keats,” suggested +Carrington. “He’ll fight, most likely,” he grinned, +evilly. “Understand,” he added; “if you should have to +kill Taylor bringing him in, there would be no inquiry +made. And—” he looked at Keats and grinned, slowly +and deliberately closing an eye. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span><a name='chXXV' id='chXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV—KEATS LOOKS FOR “SQUINT”</h2> +<p> +Neil Norton had been attending to Taylor’s +affairs in Dawes during the latter’s illness, and +he had ridden to the Arrow this morning to discuss with +Taylor a letter he had received—for Taylor—from a +Denver cattle buyer. The inquiry was for Herefords of +certain markings and quality, and Norton could give the +buyer no information. So Norton had come to Taylor +for the information. +</p> +<p> +“The herd is grazing in the Kelso Basin,” Taylor told +Norton. Norton knew the Kelso Basin was at least +fifteen miles distant from the Arrow ranchhouse—a deep, +wide valley directly west, watered by the same river that +flowed near the Arrow ranchhouse. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t say, offhand, whether we’ve got what your +Denver man wants.” He grinned at Norton, adding: +“But it’s a fine morning for a ride, and I haven’t done +much riding lately. I’ll go and take a look.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be looking, too,” declared Norton. “The <em>Eagle</em> +forms are ready for the press, and there isn’t much to do.” +</p> +<p> +Later, Taylor, mounted on Spotted Tail, and Norton +on a big, rangy sorrel, the two men rode away. Taylor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span> +stopped at the horse corral gate long enough to tell Bud +Hemmingway, who was replacing a bar, that he and +Norton were riding to the Kelso Basin. +</p> +<p> +And there was one other to whom he had spoken—when +he had gone into the house to buckle on his cartridge-belt +and pistols, just before he went out to saddle +Spotted Tail. It was the girl who had tantalized him +while they had been sitting on the rock. She had not +spoken frivolously to him inside the house; instead, she +had gravely warned him to be “careful;” that his wounds +might bother him on a long ride—and that she didn’t +want him to suffer a relapse. And she watched him as he +and Norton rode away, following the dust-cloud that +enveloped them until it vanished into the mists of distance. +Then she turned from the door with a sigh, thinking +of the fate that had made her dependent upon the +charity of the man she loved. +</p> +<p> +To Bud Hemmingway, working at the corral gate about +an hour following the departure of Taylor and Norton, +there came an insistent demand to look toward Dawes. +It was merely one of those absurd impulses founded +upon a whim provoked by self-manufactured presentiment—but +Bud looked. What he saw caused him to +stand erect and stare hard at the trail between Mullarky’s +cabin and the Arrow—for about two miles out came a +dozen or more riders, their horses traveling fast. +</p> +<p> +For several seconds Bud watched intently, straining his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> +eyes in an effort to distinguish something about the men +that would make their identity clear. And then he +dropped the hammer he had been working with and ran +to the bunkhouse, where he put on his cartridge-belt and +pistol. +</p> +<p> +Returning to the bunkhouse door, he stood in it for a +time, watching the approaching men. Then he scowled, +muttering: +</p> +<p> +“It’s that damned Keats an’ some of his bunch! What +in hell are they wantin’ at the Arrow?” +</p> +<p> +Bud was standing near the edge of the front gallery +when Keats and his men rode up. There were fourteen +of the men, and, like their leader, they were ill-visaged, +bepistoled. +</p> +<p> +Marion Harlan had heard the noise of their approach, +and she had come to the front door. She stood in the +opening, her gaze fixed inquiringly upon the riders, though +chiefly upon Keats, whose manner proclaimed him the +leader. He looked at Bud. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, Hemmingway!” he greeted, gruffly. “I take +it the outfit ain’t in?” +</p> +<p> +“Workin’, Kelso,” returned Bud. Bud’s gaze at Keats +was belligerent; he resented the presence of Keats and +the men at the Arrow, for he had never liked Keats, and +he knew the relations between the visitor and Taylor +were strained almost to the point of open antagonism. +</p> +<p> +“What’s eatin’ you guys?” demanded Bud. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> +</p> +<p> +“Plenty!” stated Keats importantly. He turned to +the men. +</p> +<p> +“Scatter!” he commanded; “an’ rustle him up, if he’s +anywhere around! Hey!” he shouted at a slender, rat-faced +individual. “You an’ Darbey search the house! +Two more of you take a look at the bunkhouse—and the +rest of you nose around the other buildin’s. Keep your +eyes peeled, an’ if he goes to gettin’ fresh, plug him +plenty!” +</p> +<p> +“Why, what is wrong?” demanded Marion. Her +face was pale with indignation, for she resented the +authoritative tone used by Keats as much as she resented +the thought of the two men entering the house unbidden. +</p> +<p> +Keats’s face flamed with sudden passion. With a snap +of his wrist he drew his gun and trained its muzzle on +Bud. +</p> +<p> +“Wrong enough!” he snapped. He was looking at +Bud while answering Miss Harlan’s question. “I’m +after Squint Taylor, an’ I’m goin’ to get him—that’s all! +An’ if you folks go to interferin’ it’ll be the worse for +you!” +</p> +<p> +Marion stiffened and braced herself in the doorway, +her eyes wide with dread and her lips parted to ask the +question that Bud now spoke, his voice drawling slightly +with sarcasm. +</p> +<p> +“Taylor, eh?” he said. “What you wantin’ with +Taylor?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’m wantin’ him for murderin’ Larry Harlan!” +snapped Keats. +</p> +<p> +Bud gulped, drew a deep breath and went pale. He +looked at Marion, and saw that the girl was terribly +moved by Keats’s words. But neither the girl nor Bud +spoke while Keats dismounted, crossed the porch, and +stopped in front of the door, which was barred by the +girl’s body. +</p> +<p> +“Get out of the way—I’m goin’ in!” ordered Keats. +</p> +<p> +The girl moved aside to let him pass, and as he crossed +the threshold she asked, weakly: +</p> +<p> +“How do you—how do they know Mr. Taylor killed +Larry Harlan?” +</p> +<p> +Keats turned on her, grinning mirthlessly. +</p> +<p> +“How do we know anything?” he jeered. “Evidence—that’s +what—an’ plenty of it!” +</p> +<p> +Keats vanished inside, and Bud, his eyes snapping +with the alert glances he threw around him, slowly backed +away from the porch toward the stable. As he turned, +after backing several feet, he saw Marion walk slowly to +a rocker that stood on the porch, drop weakly into it and +cover her face with her hands. +</p> +<p> +Gaining the stable, Bud worked fast; throwing a saddle +and bridle upon King, the speediest horse in the Arrow +outfit, excepting Spotted Tail. +</p> +<p> +With movements that he tried hard to make casual, +but with an impatience that made his heart pound heavily, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> +he got King out and led him to the rear of the +stable. +</p> +<p> +Some of Keats’s men were running from one building +to another; but he was not Taylor, and they seemed to +pay no attention to him, beyond giving him sharp glances. +</p> +<p> +Passing behind the blacksmith-shop, Bud heard a voice +saying: +</p> +<p> +“Dead or alive, Keats says; an’ they’d admire to have +him dead. I heard Carrington tellin’ Keats!” +</p> +<p> +As the sound of the voice died away, Bud touched +King’s flank with the spurs. The big horse, after a day +in the stable, was impatient and eager for a run, and he +swept past the scattered buildings of the ranch with long, +swift leaps that took him out upon the plains before +Keats could complete his search of the first floor of the +house. +</p> +<p> +The two men who had searched the upper floor came +downstairs, to meet Keats in the front room. They +grimly shook their heads at Keats, and at his orders went +outside to search with the other men. +</p> +<p> +Keats stepped to the door, saw Marion sitting limply +in the rocking-chair, her shoulders convulsed with sobs, +and crossed to her, shaking her with a brutal arm. +</p> +<p> +“Where’s that guy I left standin’ there? Where’s he—Hemmingway?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know,” said the girl dully. +</p> +<p> +Keats cursed and ran to the edge of the porch. With +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> +his gaze sweeping the buildings, the pasture, the corrals, +and the wide stretch of plain westward, he stiffened, +calling angrily to his men: +</p> +<p> +“There he goes—damn him! It’s that sneakin’ Bud +Hemmingway, an’ he’s gone to tell Taylor we’re after +him! He knows where Taylor is! Get your hosses!” +</p> +<p> +Forced to her feet by the intense activity that followed +Keats’s loudly bellowed orders, the girl crossed the porch, +and from a point near the end railing watched Keats and +his men clamber into their saddles and race after Bud. +For a long time she watched them—a tiny blot gliding +over the plains, followed by a larger blot—and then she +walked slowly to the rocking-chair, looked down at it as +though its spaciousness invited her; then she turned from +it, entered the house, and going to her room—where +Martha was sleeping—began feverishly throwing her +few belongings into the small handbag she had brought +with her from the big house. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span><a name='chXXVI' id='chXXVI'></a>CHAPTER XXVI—KEATS FINDS “SQUINT”</h2> +<p> +Looking back after he had been riding for some +minutes, Bud saw a dozen or more horses break +from the group of Arrow buildings and come racing +toward him, spreading out fanwise. +</p> +<p> +“They’ve seen me!” breathed Bud, and he leaned over +King’s shoulders and spoke to him. The animal responded +with a burst of speed that brought a smile to +Bud’s face. For the puncher knew that Taylor and Norton +couldn’t have traveled more than a few miles in the +short time that had passed since their departure; and he +knew also that in a short run—of a dozen miles or so—there +wasn’t a horse in the Dawes section that could catch +King, barring, of course, Spotted Tail, the real king of +range horses. +</p> +<p> +And so Bud bent eagerly to his work, not riding erect +in the saddle as is the fashion of the experienced cow-puncher +in an unfamiliar country, where pitfalls, breaks, +draws, hidden gullies, and weed-grown barrancas provide +hazards that might bring disaster. Bud knew this +section of the country as well as he knew the interior of +the bunkhouse, and with his knowledge came a confidence +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> +that nothing would happen to him or King, except possibly +a slip into a gopher hole. +</p> +<p> +And Bud kept scanning the country far enough ahead +to keep King from running into a gopher town. He +swung the animal wide in passing them—for he knew +it was the habit of these denizens of the plains to extend +their habitat—some venturesome and independent spirits +straying far from the huddle and congestion of the +multitude. +</p> +<p> +Bud looked back many times during the first two miles, +and he saw that Keats and his men were losing ground; +their horses could not keep the pace set by the big bay +flier under Bud. +</p> +<p> +And King was not going as he could go when the necessity +arrived. This ride was a frolic for the big bay, and +yet Bud knew he must not force him, that he must conserve +his wind, for if Taylor and Norton had yielded to +a whim to hurry, even King would need all his speed and +endurance to hang on. For the sorrel that had accompanied +Spotted Tail was not so greatly inferior to King +that the latter could take liberties with him. +</p> +<p> +Bud gloated as he looked back after he had covered +another mile. Keats and his men were still losing ground, +though they were not so very far back, either—Bud +could almost see the faces of the men. But that, Bud +knew, was due to the marvelous clarity of the atmosphere. +</p> +<p> +When the sides of the big hills surrounding the level +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +began to sweep inward rapidly, Bud knew that the grass +level was coming to an end, and that presently he would +strike a long stretch of broken country. Beyond that +was a big valley, rich and fertile, in which, according to +report, the Arrow herd should be grazing, guarded by +the men of the outfit, under Bothwell. But Kelso Basin +was still nine or ten miles distant, and Bud did not yet +dare to let the big bay horse run his best. +</p> +<p> +Still, when they flashed by a huge promontory that +stood sentinel-like above the waters of the river—a spot +well remembered by Bud, because many times while on +day duty he had lain prone on its top smoking and dreaming—King +was running as lightly as a leaf before the +hurricane. +</p> +<p> +King had entered the section of broken country, with +its beds of rock and lava, and huge boulders strewn here +and there, relics of gigantic upheavals when the earth +was young; and Bud was skilfully directing King to the +stretches of smooth level that he found here and there, +when far ahead he saw Taylor and Norton. +</p> +<p> +In ten minutes he was within hailing distance, and he +grinned widely when, hearing him, they pulled their +horses to a halt and, wheeling, faced him. +</p> +<p> +For Bud saw that they had reached a spot which would +make an admirable defensive position, should Taylor +decide to resist Keats. The hills, in their gradual inward +sweep, were close together, so that their crests seemed to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +nod to one another. And a little farther down, Bud knew, +they formed a gorge, which still farther on merged into a +cañon. It was an ideal position for a stand—if Taylor +would stand and not run for it; and he rather thought +Taylor would not run. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had ridden toward Bud, and was a hundred +feet in advance of Norton when Bud pulled King to a +halt, shouting: +</p> +<p> +“Keats and a dozen men are right behind me—a mile; +mebbe two! He’s got a warrant for you, chargin’ you +with murderin’ Larry Harlan! I heard one of his scum +sayin’ it was to be a clean-up!” +</p> +<p> +Taylor laughed; he did not seem to be at all interested +in Keats or his men, who at that instant were riding at a +pace that was likely to kill their horses, should they be +forced to maintain it. +</p> +<p> +“Who accused me of murdering Harlan?” +</p> +<p> +“Keats didn’t say. But I heard a guy sayin’ that Carrington +was wantin’ Keats to take you dead!” +</p> +<p> +The cold gleam in Taylor’s eyes and the slight, stiff +grin that wreathed his lips, indicated that he had determined +that Keats would have to kill him before taking +him. +</p> +<p> +“A dozen of them, eh?” he said, looking from Bud to +Norton deliberately. “Well, that’s a bunch for three +men to fight, but it isn’t enough to run from. We’ll stay +here and have it out with them. That is,” he added with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +a quick, quizzical look at the two men, “if one of you is +determined to stay.” +</p> +<p> +“One of us?” flared Bud. He gazed hard at Norton, +with suspicion and belligerence in his glance. Norton +flushed at the look. “I reckon we’ll both be in at the +finish,” added Bud. +</p> +<p> +“Only one,” declared Taylor. “We might hold a +dozen men off here for a good many hours. But if they +were wise and patient they’d get us. One man will light +out for Kelso Basin to get the outfit. Settle it between +you, but be quick about it!” +</p> +<p> +Taylor swung down from his horse, led the animal out +of sight behind a jutting crag into a sort of pocket in the +side of the gorge, where there would be no danger of the +magnificent beast being struck by a bullet. Taylor pulled +his rifle from its saddle-sheath, examined the mechanism, +looked at his pistols, and then returned to where +Bud Hemmingway and Neil Norton sat on their +horses. +</p> +<p> +Bud’s face was flushed and Norton was grinning. And +at just the instant Taylor came in sight of them Norton +was saying: +</p> +<p> +“Well, if you insist, I suppose I shall have to go to +Kelso. There isn’t time to argue.” +</p> +<p> +Norton wheeled his horse, and, with a quick grin at +Taylor, sent the animal clattering down the gorge. +</p> +<p> +Bud’s grin at Taylor was pregnant with guilt. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span> +</p> +<p> +“Norton didn’t want me to stay. There’s lots of stubborn +cusses in the world—now, ain’t they?” +</p> +<p> +Taylor’s answering smile showed that he understood. +</p> +<p> +“Get King back here with Spotted Tail, Bud!” he +directed. “And take that pile of rocks for cover. They’re +coming!” +</p> +<p> +By the time Bud did as he had been bidden, and was +crouching behind a huge mound of broken rock on the +north side of the gorge, Taylor on the southern side, with +a twenty-foot passage on the comparatively level floor of +the gorge between them, and an uninterrupted sweep of +narrow level in front of them, except for here and there +a jutting rock or a boulder, they saw Keats and his men +just entering the stretch of broken country. +</p> +<p> +The horses of the pursuing outfit were doing their best. +They came on over the stretch of treacherous trail, laboring, +pounding and clattering; singly sometimes, two and +three abreast where there was room, keeping well together, +their riders urging them with quirt and spur. For +far back on the trail they had lost sight of Bud, though +Keats had remembered that Bud had said Taylor had gone +to Kelso Basin, and therefore Keats knew he was on the +right trail. +</p> +<p> +However, he did not want to let Bud get to Kelso before +him to warn the Arrow outfit; for that would mean a +desperate battle with a force equal in numbers to his own. +Keats fought best when the advantages were with him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span> +and he knew his men were similarly constituted. And +so he was riding as hard as he dared, hoping that something +would happen to Bud’s horse—that the animal +might become winded or fall. A man could not tell what +<em>might</em> happen in a pursuit of this character. +</p> +<p> +But the thing that <em>did</em> happen had not figured in Keats’s +lurid conjectures at all. That was why, when he heard +Taylor’s quick challenge, he pulled his horse up sharply, +so that the animal slipped several feet and came to a halt +sidewise. +</p> +<p> +Keats’s unexpected halt brought confusion to his followers. +A dozen of them, crowding Keats hard, and not +noticing their leader’s halt in time, rode straight against +him, their horses jamming the narrow gorge, kicking, +snorting and squealing in a disordered and uncontrollable +mass. +</p> +<p> +When the tangle had been magically undone—the +magic being Taylor’s voice again, burdened with sarcasm +bearing upon their excitement—Keats found himself +nearest the nest of rocks from behind which Taylor’s +voice seemed to come. +</p> +<p> +The jutting crag behind which Taylor had concealed +his horse, and where Bud had led King, completely obstructed +Keats’s view of the gorge behind the crag, toward +Kelso Basin, and Keats did not know but that the entire +Arrow outfit was concealed behind the rocks and boulders +that littered the level in the vicinity. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> +</p> +<p> +And so he sat motionless, slowly and respectfully raising +his hands. Noting his action, his men did likewise. +</p> +<p> +“That’s polite,” came Taylor’s voice coldly. “Hemmingway +says you’re looking for me. What for?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve got a warrant for you, chargin’ you with murderin’ +Larry Harlan.” +</p> +<p> +“Who accused me?” +</p> +<p> +“Mint Morton, of Nogel.” +</p> +<p> +There was a long silence. Behind the clump of rock +Taylor smiled mirthlessly at Bud, who was watching +him. For Taylor knew Mint Morton, of Nogel, as a +gambler, unscrupulous and dishonest. He had earned +Morton’s hatred when one night in a Nogel saloon he +had caught Morton cheating and had forced him to disgorge +his winnings. His victim had been a miner on his +way East with the earnings of five years in his pockets. +Taylor had not been able to endure the spectacle of abject +despair that had followed the man’s loss of all his money. +</p> +<p> +Taylor did not know that Carrington had hunted Morton +up, paying him well to bring the murder charge, but +Taylor did know that he was innocent of murder; and +by linking Morton with Carrington he could readily understand +why Keats wanted him. He broke the silence +with a short: +</p> +<p> +“Who issued the warrant?” +</p> +<p> +“Judge Littlefield.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Taylor, “you can take it right back to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span> +him and tell him to let Carrington serve it. For,” he +added, a note of grim humor creeping into his voice, “I’m +a heap particular about such things, Keats. I couldn’t +let a sneak like you take me in. And I don’t like the +looks of that dirty-looking outfit with you. And so I’m +telling you a few things. I’m giving you one minute to +hit the breeze out of this section. If you’re here when +that time is up, I down <em>you</em>, Keats! Slope!” +</p> +<p> +Keats flashed one glance around at his men. Some of +them already had their horses in motion; others were +nervously fingering their bridle-reins. Keats sneered at +the rock nest ahead of him. +</p> +<p> +The intense silence which followed Taylor’s warning +lasted about ten seconds. Then Keats’s face paled; he +wheeled his horse and sent it scampering over the back +trail, his men following, crowding him hard. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span><a name='chXXVII' id='chXXVII'></a>CHAPTER XXVII—BESIEGED</h2> +<p> +Hemmingway tentatively suggested that a ride +through the gorge toward the Kelso Basin might +simplify matters for himself and Taylor; it might, he +said, even seem to make the defending of their position +unnecessary. But his suggestions met with no enthusiasm +from Taylor, who lounged among the rocks of his place +of concealment calmly smoking. +</p> +<p> +Taylor gave some reasons for his disinclination to adopt +Hemmingway’s suggestions. +</p> +<p> +“Norton will be back in an hour, with Bothwell and +the outfit.” And now he grinned as he looked at Bud. +“Miss Harlan told me to be careful about my scratches. +I take it she don’t want no more sieges with a sick man. +And I’m taking her advice. If I’d go to riding my horse +like blazes, maybe I <em>would</em> get sick again. And she +wouldn’t take care of me anymore. And I’d hate like +blazes to run from Keats and his bunch of plug-uglies!” +</p> +<p> +So Hemmingway said no more on that subject. +</p> +<p> +They smoked and talked and watched the trail for signs +of Keats and his men; while the sun, which had been +behind the towering hills surrounding the gorge, traveled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span> +slowly above them, finally blazing down from a point +directly overhead. +</p> +<p> +It became hot in the gorge; the air was stifling and the +heat uncomfortable. Taylor did not seem to mind it, but +Bud, with a vigorous appetite, and longings that ran to +flapjacks and sirup, grew impatient. +</p> +<p> +“If a man could eat now,” he remarked once, while +the sun was directly overhead, “why, it wouldn’t be so +bad!” +</p> +<p> +And then, after the sun’s blazing rays had begun to +diminish in intensity somewhat, Bud looked upward and +saw that the shimmering orb had passed beyond the crest +of a towering hill. He looked sharply at Taylor, who was +intently watching the back trail, and said gravely: +</p> +<p> +“Norton ought to have been back with Bothwell and +the bunch, now.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s an hour overdue,” said Taylor, without looking +at Bud. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon somethin’s happened,” growled Bud. +“Somethin’ always happens when a guy’s holed up, like +this. It wouldn’t be so bad if a man could eat a little +somethin’—to sort of keep him from thinkin’ of it all +the time. Or, mebbe, if there was a little excitement—or +somethin’. A man could——” +</p> +<p> +“There’ll be plenty of excitement before long,” interrupted +Taylor. “Keats and his gang didn’t go very far. +I just saw one of them sneaking along that rock-knob, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span> +down the gorge a piece. They’re going to stalk us. If +you’re thinking of riding to Kelso—why—” He grinned +at Bud’s resentful scowl. +</p> +<p> +Lying flat on his stomach, he watched the rock-knob he +had mentioned. +</p> +<p> +“Slick as an Indian,” he remarked once, while Bud, +having ceased his discontented mutterings, kept his gaze +on the rock also. +</p> +<p> +And then suddenly the eery silence of the gorge was +broken by the sharp crack of Taylor’s rifle, and, simultaneously, +by a shriek of pain. Report and shriek reverberated +with weird, echoing cadences between the hills, +growing less distinct always and finally the eery silence +reigned again. +</p> +<p> +“They’ll know they can’t get careless, now,” grinned +Taylor, working the ejector of his rifle. +</p> +<p> +Bud did not reply; and for another hour both men intently +scanned the hills within range of their vision, +straining their eyes to detect signs of movement that +would warn them of the whereabouts of Keats and his +men. +</p> +<p> +Anxiously Bud watched the rays of the sun creeping +up a precipitous rock wall at a little distance. Slowly the +streak of light narrowed, growing always less brilliant, +and finally, when it vanished, Bud spoke: +</p> +<p> +“It’s comin’ on night, Squint. Somethin’s sure happened +to Norton.” He wriggled impatiently, adding: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span> +“If we’re here when night comes we’ll have a picnic +keepin’ them guys off of us.” +</p> +<p> +Taylor said nothing until the gorge began to darken +with the shadows of twilight. Then he looked at Bud, his +face grim. +</p> +<p> +“My stubbornness,” he said shortly. “I should have +taken your advice about going to Kelso Basin—when we +had a chance. But I felt certain that Norton would have +the outfit here before this. Our chance is gone, now. +There are some of Keats’s men in the hills, around us. I +just saw one jump behind that rim rock on the shoulder +of that big hill—there.” He indicated the spot. Then +he again spoke to Bud. +</p> +<p> +“There’s a chance yet—for you. You take Spotted +Tail and make a run for the basin. I’ll cover you.” +</p> +<p> +“What about you?” grumbled Bud. +</p> +<p> +Taylor grinned, and Bud laughed. “You was only +funnin’ me, I reckon,” he said, earnestly. “You knowed +I wouldn’t slope an’ leave you to fight it out alone—now +didn’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“But if a man was hungry,” said Taylor, “and he knew +there was grub with the outfit——” +</p> +<p> +“I ain’t hungry no more,” declared Bud; “I’ve quit +thinkin’ of flapjacks for more than——” +</p> +<p> +He stiffened, and the first shadows of the night were +split by a long, narrow flame-streak as his rifle crashed. +And a man who had been slipping into the shelter of a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span> +depression on the side of a hill a hundred yards distant, +tumbled grotesquely out and down, and went sliding to +the bottom of the gorge. +</p> +<p> +As though the report of Bud’s rifle were a signal, a +dozen vivid jets of fire flamed from various points in the +surrounding hills, and the silence was rent by the vicious +cracking of rifles and the drone and thud of bullets as +they sped over the heads of the two men at the bottom +of the gorge and flattened themselves against the rocks +of their shelter. +</p> +<p> +That sound, too, died away. And in the heavy, portentous +stillness which succeeded it, there came to the ears +of the two besieged men the sounds of distant shouting, +faint and far. +</p> +<p> +“It’s the outfit!” said Taylor. +</p> +<p> +And Bud, rolling over and over in an excess of joy +over the coming of the Arrow men, hugged an imaginary +form and yelled: +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Bothwell, you old son-of-a-gun! How I love +you!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span><a name='chXXVIII' id='chXXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XXVIII—THE FUGITIVE</h2> +<p> +One thought dominated Marion Harlan’s brain as +she packed her belongings into the little handbag +in her room at the Arrow—an overpowering, monstrous, +hideous conviction that she had accepted charity from +the man who was accused of murdering her father! There +was no room in her brain for other thoughts or emotions; +she was conscious of nothing but the horror of it; of the +terrible uncertainty that confronted her—of the dread +that Taylor <em>might</em> be guilty! She wanted to believe in +him—she <em>did</em> believe in him, she told herself as she +packed the bag; she could not accept the word of Keats as +final. And yet she could not stay at the Arrow another +minute—she could not endure the uncertainty. She must +go away somewhere—anywhere, until the charge were +proved, or until she could see Taylor, to look into his eyes, +there to see his guilt or innocence. +</p> +<p> +She felt that the charge could not be true; for Taylor +had treated her so fairly; he had been so sympathetically +friendly; he had seemed to share her grief over her +father’s death, and he had seemed so sincere in his declaration +of his friendliness toward the man. He had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span> +even seemed to share her grief; and in the hallowed moments +during which he had stood beside her while she +had looked into her father’s room, he might have been +secretly laughing at her! +</p> +<p> +And into her heart as she stood in the room, now, there +crept a mighty shame—and the shadow of her mother’s +misconduct never came so close as it did now. For she, +too, had violated the laws of propriety; and what she was +receiving was not more than her just due. And yet, +though she could blame herself for coming to the Arrow, +she could not excuse Taylor’s heinous conduct if he were +guilty. +</p> +<p> +And then, the first fierce passion burning itself out, +there followed the inevitable reaction—the numbing, +staggering, sorrowing realization of loss. This in turn +was succeeded by a frenzied desire to go away from the +Arrow—from everybody and everything—to some place +where none of them would ever see her again. +</p> +<p> +She started toward the door, and met Parsons—who +was looking for her. He darted forward when he saw +her, and grasped her by the shoulders. +</p> +<p> +“What has happened?” he demanded. +</p> +<p> +She told him, and the man’s face whitened. +</p> +<p> +“I was asleep, and heard nothing of it,” he said. “So +that man Keats said they had plenty of evidence! You +are going away? I wouldn’t, girl; there may have been +a mistake. If I were you——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span> +</p> +<p> +Her glance of horror brought Parsons’ protests to an +end quickly. He, too, she thought, was under the spell +of Taylor’s magnetism. That, or every person she knew +was a prey to those vicious and fawning instincts to +which she had yielded—the subordination of principle +to greed—of ease, or of wealth, or of place. +</p> +<p> +She shuddered with sudden repugnance. +</p> +<p> +For the first time she had a doubt of Parsons—a revelation +of that character which he had always succeeded in +keeping hidden from her. She drew away from him and +walked to the door, telling him that <em>he</em> might stay, but +that she did not intend to remain in the house another +minute. +</p> +<p> +She found a horse in the stable—two, in fact—the +ones Taylor had insisted belonged to her and Martha. +She threw saddle and bridle on hers, and was mounting, +when she saw Martha standing at the stable door, +watching her. +</p> +<p> +“Yo’ uncle says you goin’ away, honey—how’s that? +An’ he done say somethin’ about Mr. Squint killin’ your +father. Doan’ you b’lieve no fool nonsense like that! +Mr. Squint wouldn’t kill nobody’s father! That deputy +man ain’t nothin’ but a damn, no-good liar!” +</p> +<p> +Martha’s vehemence was genuine, but not convincing; +and the girl mounted the horse, hanging the handbag +from the pommel of the saddle. +</p> +<p> +“You’s sure goin’!” screamed the negro woman, frantic +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262'></a>262</span> +with a dread that she was in danger of losing the girl +for whom she had formed a deep affection. +</p> +<p> +“You wait—you hear!” she demanded; “if you leave +this house I’s a goin’, too!” +</p> +<p> +Marion waited until Martha led the other horse out, +and then, with the negro woman following, she rode +eastward on the Dawes trail, not once looking back. +</p> +<p> +And not a word did she say to Martha as they rode +into the space that stretched to Dawes, for the girl’s heart +was heavy with self-accusation. +</p> +<p> +They stopped for an instant at Mullarky’s cabin, and +Mrs. Mullarky drew from the girl the story of the morning’s +happenings. And like Martha, Mrs. Mullarky had +an abiding faith in Taylor’s innocence. More—she +scorned the charge of murder against him. +</p> +<p> +“Squint Taylor murder your father, child! Why, +Squint Taylor thought more of Larry Harlan than he +does of his right hand. An’ you ain’t goin’ to run away +from him—for the very good reason that I ain’t goin’ +to let you! You’re upset—that’s what—an’ you can’t +think as straight as you ought to. You come right in here +an’ sip a cup of tea, an’ take a rest. I’ll put your horses +away. If you don’t want to stay at the Arrow while +Taylor, the judge, an’ all the rest of them are pullin’ the +packin’ out of that case, why, you can stay right here!” +</p> +<p> +Yielding to the insistent demands of the good woman, +Marion meekly consented and went inside. And Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span> +Mullarky tried to make her comfortable, and attempted +to soothe her and assure her of Taylor’s innocence. +</p> +<p> +But the girl was not convinced; and late in the afternoon, +despite Mrs. Mullarky’s protests, she again mounted +her horse and, followed by Martha, set out toward Dawes, +intending to take the first east-bound train out of the +town, to ride as far as the meager amount of money in +her purse would take her. And as she rode, the sun +went down behind the big hill on whose crest sat the big +house, looming down upon the level from its lofty eminence; +and the twilight came, bathing the world with its +somber promise of greater darkness to follow. But the +darkness that was coming over the world could not be +greater than that which reigned in the girl’s heart. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264'></a>264</span><a name='chXXIX' id='chXXIX'></a>CHAPTER XXIX—THE CAPTIVE</h2> +<p> +Carrington’s experiences with Taylor had not +dulled the man’s savage impulses, nor had they +cooled his feverish desire for the possession of Marion +Harlan. In his brain rioted the dark, unbridled passions +of those progenitors he had claimed in his talk with +Parsons on the morning he had throttled the little man +in his rooms above the Castle. +</p> +<p> +For the moment he had postponed the real beginning +of his campaign for the possession of Dawes, his venomous +hatred for Taylor and his passion for the girl +overwhelming his greed. +</p> +<p> +He had watched the departure of Keats and his men, +a flush of exultation on his face, his eyes alight with fires +that reflected the malignant hatred he felt. And when +Keats and the others disappeared down the trail that led +to the Arrow, Carrington spent some time in Dawes. +Shortly after noon he rode out the river trail toward the +big house with two men that he had engaged to set the +interior in order. +</p> +<p> +Carrington had not seen the house since the fight with +Taylor in the front room, and the wreck and ruin that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span> +met his gaze as he stood in the door brought a sullen +pout to his lips. +</p> +<p> +But he intended to exact heavy punishment for what +had occurred at the big house; and as he watched the +men setting things to order—mending the doors and +repairing the broken furniture—he drew mental pictures +that made his eyes flash with pleasure. +</p> +<p> +He felt that by this time Keats and his men should +have settled with Taylor. After that, he, himself, would +make the girl pay. +</p> +<p> +So he was having the house put in order, that it would +again be habitable; and then, when that was done, and +Taylor out of the way, he would go to the Arrow after +the girl. But before he went to the Arrow he would +await the return of Keats with the news that Taylor +would no longer be able to thwart him. +</p> +<p> +Never in his life had he met a man he feared as he +feared Taylor. There was something about Taylor that +made Carrington’s soul shrivel. He knew what it was—it +was his conviction of Taylor’s absolute honorableness, +as arrayed against his own beastly impulses. But that +knowledge merely served to intensify his hatred for +Taylor. +</p> +<p> +Toward evening Carrington rode back to Dawes with +the men; and while there he sought news from Keats. +Danforth, from whom he inquired, could tell him nothing, +and so Carrington knew that Taylor had not yet been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span> +disposed of. But Carrington knew the time would not +be long now; and in a resort of a questionable character +he found two men who listened eagerly to his proposals. +Later, the two men accompanying him, he again rode to +the big house. +</p> +<p> +And just as dusk began to settle over the big level at +the foot of the long slope—and while the last glowing +light from the day still softly bathed the big house, +throwing it into bold relief on the crest of its flat-topped +hill, Carrington was standing on the front +porch, impatiently scanning the basin for signs of Keats +and his men. +</p> +<p> +For a time he could distinguish little in the basin, for +the mists of twilight were heavy down there. And then +a moving object far out in the basin caught his gaze, and +he leaned forward, peering intently, consumed with eagerness +and curiosity. +</p> +<p> +A few minutes later, still staring into the basin, +Carrington became aware that there were two moving +objects. They were headed toward Dawes, and proceeding +slowly; and at last, when they came nearer and he +saw they were two women, on horses, he stiffened +and shaded his eyes with his hands. And then he exclaimed +sharply, and his eyes glowed with triumph—for +he had recognized the women as Marion Harlan and +Martha. +</p> +<p> +Moving slowly, so that he might not attract the attention +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span> +of the women, should they happen to be looking +toward the big house, he went inside and spoke shortly +to the two men he had brought with him. +</p> +<p> +An instant later the three, Carrington leading, rode +into the timber surrounding the house, filed silently +through it, and with their horses in a slow trot, sank down +the long slope that led into the big basin. +</p> +<p> +For a time they were not visible, as they worked their +way through the chaparral on a little level near the bottom +of the slope; and then they came into view again in some +tall saccaton grass that grew as high as the backs of their +horses. +</p> +<p> +They might have been swimming in that much water, +for all the sound they made as they headed through the +grass toward the Dawes trail, for they made no sound, +and only their heads and the heads of their horses +appeared above the swaying grass. +</p> +<p> +But they were seen. Martha, riding at a little distance +behind Marion, and straining her eyes to watch the trail +ahead, noted the movement in the saccaton, and called +sharply to the girl: +</p> +<p> +“They’s somethin’ movin’ in that grass off to your +right, honey! It wouldn’t be no cattle, heah; they’s never +no cattle round heah, fo’ they ain’t no water. Lawsey!” +she exclaimed, as she got a clear view of them; “it’s +men!” +</p> +<p> +Marion halted her horse. Martha’s voice had startled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span> +her, for she had not been thinking of the present; her +thoughts had been centered on Taylor. +</p> +<p> +A shiver of trepidation ran over her, though, when +she saw the men, and she gathered the reins tightly in her +hands, ready to wheel the animal under her should the +appearance of the men indicate the imminence of danger. +</p> +<p> +And when she saw that danger did indeed threaten, she +spoke to the horse and turned it toward the back trail. +For she had recognized one of the three men as +Carrington. +</p> +<p> +But the horse had not taken a dozen leaps before Carrington +was beside her, his hand at her bridle. And as +her horse came to a halt, Carrington’s animal lunged +against it, bringing the two riders close together. Carrington +leaned over, his face close to hers; she could feel +his breath in her face as he laughed jeeringly, his voice +vibrating with passion: +</p> +<p> +“So it <em>is</em> you, eh? I thought for a moment that I had +made a mistake!” Holding to her horse’s bridle-rein +with a steady pull that kept the horses close together, he +spoke sharply to the two men who had halted near +Martha: “Get the nigger! I’ll take care of this one!” +</p> +<p> +And instantly, with a brutal, ruthless strength and +energy that took the girl completely by surprise, Carrington +threw a swift arm out, grasped her by the waist, drew +her out of the saddle, and swung her into his own, crosswise, +so that she lay face up, looking at him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span> +</p> +<p> +She fought him then, silently, ferociously, though +futilely. For he caught her hands, using both his own, +pinning hers so that she could not use them, meanwhile +laughing lowly at her efforts to escape. +</p> +<p> +Even in the dusk she could see the smiling, savage +exultation in his eyes; the gloating, vindictive triumph, +and her soul revolted at the horror in store for her, and +the knowledge nerved her to another mighty effort. Tearing +her hands free, she fought him again, scratching his +face, striking him with all her force with her fists; +squirming and twisting, even biting one of his hands when +it came close to her lips as he essayed to grasp her throat, +his eyes gleaming with ruthless malignance. +</p> +<p> +But her efforts availed little. In the end her arms were +pinned again to her sides, and he pulled a rope from his +saddle-horn and bound them. Then, as she lay back and +glared at him, muttering imprecations that brought a +mocking smile to his lips, he urged his horse forward, +and sent it clattering up the slope, the two men following +with Martha. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span><a name='chXXX' id='chXXX'></a>CHAPTER XXX—PARSONS HAS HUMAN INSTINCTS</h2> +<p> +Elam Parsons stood on the front porch of the +Arrow ranchhouse for a long time after Marion and +Martha departed, watching them as they slowly negotiated +the narrow trail that led toward Dawes. Something +of the man’s guilt assailed his consciousness as he stood +there—a conception of the miserable part he had played +in the girl’s life. +</p> +<p> +No doubt had not Fate and Carrington played a mean +trick on Parsons, in robbing him of his money and his +prospects, the man would not have entertained the +thoughts he entertained at this moment; for success would +have made a reckoning with conscience a remote possibility, +dim and far. +</p> +<p> +And perhaps it was not conscience that was now +troubling Parsons; at least Parsons did not lay the burden +of his present thoughts upon so intangible a chimera. +Parsons was too much of a materialist to admit he had +a conscience. +</p> +<p> +But a twinge of something seized Parsons as he +watched the girl ride away, and bitter thoughts racked +his soul. He could not, however, classify his emotions, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span> +and so he stood there on the porch, undecided, vacillating, +in the grip of a vague disquiet. +</p> +<p> +Parsons sat on the porch until long after noon; for, +after Marion and Martha had vanished into the haze of +distance, Parsons dropped into a chair and let his chin +sink to his chest. +</p> +<p> +He did not get up to prepare food for himself; he did +not think of eating, for the big, silent ranchhouse and the +gloomy, vacant appearance of the other buildings drew +the man’s attention to the aching emptiness of his own +life. He had sought to gain everything—scheming, +planning, plotting dishonestly; taking unfair advantage; +robbing people without compunction—and he had gained +nothing. Yes—he had gained Carrington’s contempt! +</p> +<p> +The recollection of Carrington’s treatment of him fired +his passions with a thousand licking, leaping flames. In +his gloomy meditations over the departure of the girl, +he had almost forgotten Carrington. But he thought of +Carrington now; and he sat stiff and rigid in the chair, +glowering, his lips in a pout, his soul searing with hatred. +</p> +<p> +But even the nursing of that passion failed to satisfy +Parsons. Something lacked. There was still that conviction +of utter baseness—his own baseness—to torture +him. And at last, toward evening, he discovered that he +longed for the girl. He wanted to be near her; he wanted +to do something for her to undo the wrong he had done +her; he wanted to make some sort of reparation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272'></a>272</span> +</p> +<p> +So the man assured himself. But he knew that deep +in his inner consciousness lurked the dread knowledge +that Taylor was aware of his baseness. For Taylor had +overheard the conversation between Carrington and himself +on the train, and Parsons feared that should Taylor +by any chance escape Keats and his men and return to the +Arrow to find Marion gone, he would vent his rage and +fury upon the man who had sinned against the woman +he loved. That was the emotion which dominated Parsons +as he sat on the porch; it was the emotion that made +the man fervently desire to make reparation to the girl; +it was the emotion that finally moved him out of his chair +and upon a horse that he found in the stable, to ride +toward Dawes in the hope of finding her. +</p> +<p> +Parsons, too, stopped at the Mullarky cabin. He discovered +that Marion had left there shortly before, after +having refused Mrs. Mullarky’s proffer of shelter until +the charge against Taylor could be disproved. +</p> +<p> +Parsons listened impatiently to the woman’s voluble +defense of Taylor, and her condemnation of Keats and +all those who were leagued against the Arrow owner. +And then Parsons rode on. +</p> +<p> +Far out in the basin, indistinct in the twilight haze, +he saw Marion and Martha riding toward Dawes, and he +urged his horse in an effort to come up with them before +they reached the bottom of the long, gradual rise that +would take them into town. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span> +</p> +<p> +Parsons had got within half a mile of them when he +saw them halt and wait the coming of three horsemen, +who advanced toward them from the opposite direction. +Parsons did not feel like joining the group, for just at +that moment he felt as though he could not bear to have +anyone see his face—they might have discovered the +guilt in it—and so he waited. +</p> +<p> +He saw the three men ride close to the other riders; +he watched in astonishment while one of the strange +riders pursued one of the women, catching her. +</p> +<p> +Parsons saw it all. But he did not ride forward, for +he was in the grip of a mighty terror that robbed him +of power to move. For he knew one of the strange +riders was Carrington. He would have recognized him +among a thousand other men. +</p> +<p> +Parsons watched the three men climb the big slope +that led to the great house on the flat-topped hill. For +many minutes after they had reached the crest of the hill +Parsons sat motionless on his horse, gazing upward. And +when he saw a light flare up in one of the rooms of the +big house, he cursed, his face convulsed with impotent +rage. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Marion Harlan did not yield to the overpowering weakness +that seized her after she realized that further resistance +to Carrington would be useless. And instead of +yielding to the hysteria that threatened her, she clenched +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274'></a>274</span> +her hands and bit her lips in an effort to retain her composure. +She succeeded. And during the progress of her +captor’s horse up the long slope she kept a good grip on +herself, fortifying herself against what might come when +she and her captor reached the big house. +</p> +<p> +When they reached the crest of the hill, Carrington +ordered the two men to take Martha around to the back +of the house and confine her in one of the rooms. One +man was to guard her. The other was to wait on the +front porch until Carrington called him. +</p> +<p> +The girl had decided to make one more struggle when +Carrington dismounted with her, but though she fought +hard and bitterly, she did not succeed in escaping Carrington, +and the latter finally lifted her in his arms and +carried her into the front room, the room in which Carrington +had fought with Taylor the day Taylor had killed +the three men who had ambushed him. +</p> +<p> +Carrington lighted a lamp—it was this light Parsons +had seen from the basin—placed it on a shelf, and in its +light grinned triumphantly at the girl. +</p> +<p> +“Well, we are here,” he said. +</p> +<p> +In his voice was that passion that had been in it that +other time, when he had pursued her into the house, and +she had escaped him by hiding in the attic. She cringed +from him, backing away a little, and, noting the movement, +he laughed hoarsely. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t worry,” he said, “at least for an hour or two. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span> +I’ve got something more important on my mind. Do you +know what it is?” he demanded, grinning hugely. “It’s +Taylor!” He suddenly seemed to remember that he did +not know why she had been abroad at dusk on the Dawes +trail, and he came close to her. +</p> +<p> +“Did you see Keats today?” +</p> +<p> +She did not answer, meeting his gaze fairly, her eyes +flashing with scorn and contempt. But he knew from +the flame in her eyes that she had seen Keats, and he +laughed derisively. +</p> +<p> +“So you saw him,” he jeered; “and you know that +he came for Taylor. Did he find Taylor at the Arrow?” +</p> +<p> +Again she did not answer, and he went on, suspecting +that Taylor had not been at the Arrow, and that Keats +had gone to search for him. “No, Keats didn’t find +him—that’s plain enough. I should have enjoyed being +there to hear Keats tell you that Taylor had killed your +father. You heard that, didn’t you? Yes,” he added, his +grin broadening; “you heard that. So that’s why you +left the Arrow! Well, I don’t blame you for leaving.” +</p> +<p> +He turned toward the door and wheeled again to face +her. “You’ll enjoy this,” he sneered; “you’ve been so +thick with Taylor. Bah!” he added as he saw her face +redden at the insult; “I’ve known where you stood with +Taylor ever since I caught you flirting with him on +the station platform the day we came to Dawes. That’s +why you went to the Arrow from here—refusing my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276'></a>276</span> +attentions to <em>give</em> yourself to the man who killed your +father!” +</p> +<p> +He laughed, and saw her writhe under the sound of it. +</p> +<p> +“It hurts, eh?” he said venomously; “well, this will +hurt, too. Keats went out to get Taylor, but he will never +bring Taylor in—alive. He has orders to kill him—understand? +That’s why I’ve got more important business +than you to attend to for the next few hours. I’m +going to Dawes to find out if Keats has returned. And +when Keats comes in with the news that Taylor is done +for, I’m coming back here for you!” +</p> +<p> +Calling the man who was waiting on the porch, Carrington +directed him to watch the girl; and then, with a +last grin at her, he went out, mounted his horse, and rode +the trail toward Dawes. And as he rode, he laughed +maliciously, for he had not told her that the charge against +Taylor was a false one, and that, so far as he knew, +Taylor was not guilty of murdering her father. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span><a name='chXXXI' id='chXXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXXI—A RESCUE</h2> +<p> +An early moon stuck a pallid rim over the crest +of the big, hill-like plateau as Parsons sat on his +horse in the basin, and Parsons watched it rise in its +silvery splendor and bathe the world with an effulgent +glow. It threw house and timber on the plateau crest in +bold relief, a dark silhouette looming against a flood of +shimmering light, and Parsons could see the porch he +knew so well, and could even distinguish the break in the +timber that led to the house, which merged into the trail +that stretched to Dawes. +</p> +<p> +Parsons was still laboring with the devils of indecision +and doubt. He knew why Carrington had captured +Marion, and he yearned to take the girl from the man—for +her own sake, and for the purpose of satisfying his +vengeance. But he knew that certain death awaited him +up there should he venture to show himself to Carrington. +And yet a certain desperate courage stole into Parsons as +he watched from the basin, and when, about half an hour +after he had seen the flicker of light filter out of one of the +windows of the house, he saw a man emerge, mount a +horse, and ride away, he drew a deep breath of resolution +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> +and urged his own horse up the slope. For the man who +had mounted the horse up there was Carrington—there +could be no doubt of that. +</p> +<p> +Shivering, though still obeying the courageous impulse +that had seized him, Parsons continued to ascend the +slope. He went half way and then halted, listening. No +sound disturbed the solemn stillness that had followed +Carrington’s departure. +</p> +<p> +Reassured, though by this time he was sweating coldly, +Parsons accomplished the remainder of the intervening +space upward. Far back in the timber he brought his +horse to a halt, dismounted, and again listened. Hearing +nothing that alarmed him, except a loud, angry voice +from the rear of the house—a voice which he knew as +Martha’s—he cautiously made his way to the front +porch, tiptoed across it, and peered stealthily into the +room out of which the light still shone, its flickering rays +stabbing weakly into the outside darkness. +</p> +<p> +Looking into the room, Parsons could see Marion sitting +in a chair. Her hands were bound, and she was +leaning back in the chair, her hair disheveled, her face +chalk-white, and her eyes filled with a haunting, terrible +dread. Near the door, likewise seated on a chair, his +back to the big room that adjoined the one in which he +sat, was a villainous-looking man who was watching the +girl with a leering grin. +</p> +<p> +The sight brought a murderous passion into Parsons’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span> +heart, nerving him for the deed that instantly suggested +itself to him. He crept off the porch again, moving +stealthily lest he make the slightest sound that would +warn the watcher at the door, and searched at a corner +of the porch until he found what he was looking for—a +heavy club, a spoke from one of the wheels of a +wagon. +</p> +<p> +Parsons knew about where to find it, for during the +days that he had sat on the porch nursing his resentment +against Carrington, he had gazed long at the wagon-spoke, +wishing that he might have an opportunity to use +it on Carrington. +</p> +<p> +He took it, balancing it, testing its weight. And now +a hideous terror seized him, almost paralyzing him. For +though Parsons had robbed many men, he had never +resorted to violence; and for a time he stood with the +club in his hand, unable to move. +</p> +<p> +He moved at last, though, his face transformed from +the strength of the passion that had returned, and he +carefully stepped on the porch, crossed it, and stood, leaning +forward, peering into the room through the outside +door left open by Carrington. The outside door opened +from the big room adjoining that in which the watcher +sat, and Parsons could see the man, who, with his back +toward the door, was still looking at Marion. +</p> +<p> +Entering the big room, Parsons saw Marion’s eyes +widen as she looked full at him. He shook his head at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span> +her; her face grew whiter, and she began to talk to the +other man. +</p> +<p> +Only a second or two elapsed then until Parsons struck. +The man rolled out of his chair without a sound, and +Parsons, leaping over him, trembling, his breath coming +in great gasps, ran to Marion and unbound her hands. +</p> +<p> +Together they flew outside, where they found the girl’s +horse tethered near a tree, and Parsons’ animal standing +where he had left it. +</p> +<p> +Mounting, the girl whispered to Parsons. She was +trembling, and her voice broke with a wailing quaver +when she spoke: +</p> +<p> +“Where shall we go, Elam—where? We—I can’t +go back to the Arrow! Oh, I just can’t! And Carrington +will be back! Oh! isn’t there any <em>way</em> to escape +him?” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll go to Dawes, girl; that’s where we’ll go!” declared +Parsons, his dread and fear of the big man equaling +that of the girl. “We’ll go to Dawes and tell them +there just what kind of a man Carrington is—and what +he has tried to do with you tonight! There must be some +men in Dawes who will not stand by and see a woman +persecuted!” +</p> +<p> +And as they rode the river trail toward the town, the +girl, white and silent, riding a little distance ahead of him, +Parsons felt for the first time in his life the tingling thrills +that come of an unselfish deed courageously performed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span> +And the experience filled him with the spirit to do other +good and unselfish deeds. +</p> +<p> +They rode fast for a time, until the girl again spoke +of Carrington’s announced intention to return shortly. +Then they rode more cautiously, and it was well they did. +For they had almost reached Dawes when they heard the +whipping tread of a horse’s hoofs on the trail, coming +toward them. They rode well back from the trail, and, +concealed by some heavy brush, saw Carrington riding +toward the big house. He went past them, vanishing into +the shadows of the trees that fringed the trail, and for +a long time the girl and Parsons did not move for fear +Carrington might have slowed his horse and would hear +them. And when they did come out of their concealment +and were again on the Dawes trail, they rode fast, with +the dread of Carrington’s wrath to spur them on. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +It <em>had</em> been Martha’s voice that Parsons had heard +when he had been standing in the timber near the front +of the house. The negro woman was walking back and +forth in the room where her captor had confined her, +vigorously berating the man. She was a dusky thundercloud +of wrath, who rumbled verbal imprecations with +every breath. Her captor—a small man with a coarse +voice, a broken nose, and a scraggy, drooping mustache—stood +in the doorway looking at her fiercely, with obvious +intent to intimidate the indignant Amazon. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span> +</p> +<p> +At the instant Parsons heard her voice she was confronting +the man, her eyes popping with fury. +</p> +<p> +“You let me out of heah this minute, yo’ white trash! +Yo’ heah! An’ doan’ you think I’s scared of you, ’cause +I ain’t! If you doan’ hop away from that do’, I’s goin’ +to mash yo’ haid in wif this yere chair! You git away +now!” +</p> +<p> +The man grinned. It was a forced grin, and his face +whitened with it, betraying to Martha the fear he felt of +her—which she had suspected from the moment he had +brought her in and the light from the kitchen lamp shone +on his face. +</p> +<p> +She took a threatening step toward him; a tentative +movement, a testing of his courage. And when she saw +him retreat from her slightly, she lunged at him, raising +the chair she held in her hands. +</p> +<p> +Possibly the man was reluctant to resort to violence; +he may have had a conviction that the detaining of +Martha was not at all necessary to the success of Carrington’s +plan to subjugate the white girl, or he might have +been merely afraid of Martha. Whatever his thoughts, +the man continued to retreat from the negro woman, and +as she pursued him, her courage grew, and the man’s +vanished in inverse ratio. And as he passed the center +of the kitchen, he wheeled and ran out of the door, Martha +following him. +</p> +<p> +Outside, the man ran toward the stable. For an instant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span> +Martha stood looking after him. Then, thinking Carrington +was still in the house, and that there was no hope +of her frightening him as she had frightened the little +man who had stood guard over her, she ran to where her +horse stood, clambered into the saddle, and sent the animal +down the big slope toward Mullarky’s cabin, where she +hoped to find Mullarky, to send him to the big house to +rescue the girl from Carrington. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span><a name='chXXXII' id='chXXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXXII—TAYLOR BECOMES RILED</h2> +<p> +By the time Bud Hemmingway had finished his grotesque +expression of the delight that had seized him, +and had got to his knees and was grinning widely at +Taylor, the horses of the Arrow outfit were running down +the neck of the gorge, their hoofs drumming on the hard +floor of the bottom, awakening echoes that filled the gorge +with an incessant rumbling clatter that might have caused +one to think a regiment of cavalry was advancing at a +gallop. +</p> +<p> +Bud turned his gaze up the gorge and saw them. +</p> +<p> +“Ain’t they great!” he yelled at Taylor. The leap in +Bud’s voice betrayed something of the strained tenseness +with which the man had endured his besiegement. +</p> +<p> +And now that there was an even chance for him, Bud’s +old humorous and carefree impulses were again ascendant. +He got to his feet, grinning, the spirit of battle in his +eyes, and threw a shot at a Keats man, far up on a hillside, +who had left his concealment and was running upward. +At the report of the rifle the man reeled, caught himself, +and continued to clamber upward, another bullet from +Bud’s rifle throwing up a dust spray at his feet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span> +</p> +<p> +Other figures were now running; the slopes of the hills +in the vicinity were dotted with moving black spots as +the Keats men, also hearing the clattering of hoofs, and +divining that their advantage was gone, made a concerted +break for their horses, which they had hidden in a ravine +beyond the hills. +</p> +<p> +Taylor did not do any shooting. While Bud was standing +erect among the pile of rocks which had served as a +shelter for him during the afternoon, his rifle growing +hot in his hands, and picturesque curses issued from his +lips, Taylor walked to Spotted Tail and tightened the +saddle cinches. This task did not take him long, but by +the time it was finished the Arrow outfit had dispersed +the Keats men, who were fleeing toward Dawes in +scattered units. +</p> +<p> +Bothwell, big and grim, rode to where Taylor was +standing, his voice booming as he looked sharply at +Taylor. +</p> +<p> +“I reckon we got here just in time, boss!” he said. +“They didn’t git you or Bud? No?” at Taylor’s grin. +“Well, we’re wipin’ them out—that’s all! That Keats +bunch can’t run in no raw deal like that on the Arrow—not +while I’m range boss. Law? Bah! Every damned +man that runs with Keats would have stretched hemp +before this if they’d have been any law in the country! +A clean-up, eh—that’s what they tryin’ to pull off. Well, +watch my smoke!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span> +</p> +<p> +His voice leaping with passion, Bothwell slapped his +horse sharply, and as the animal leaped down the trail +toward Dawes, Bothwell shouted to the other men of the +outfit, who had halted at a little distance back in the +gorge: +</p> +<p> +“Come a runnin’, you yaps! That ornery bunch can’t +git out of this section without hittin’ the basin trail!” +</p> +<p> +Bothwell and the others fled down the gorge like a +devastating whirlwind before Taylor could offer a word +of objection. +</p> +<p> +As a matter of fact, Taylor had paid little attention to +Bothwell’s threats. He knew that the big range boss was +in a bitter rage, and he had been aware of the ill-feeling +that had existed for some time between Keats and his +friends and the men of the Arrow outfit. +</p> +<p> +But the deserved punishment of Keats was not the +burden his mind carried at this instant. Dominating every +other thought in Taylor’s brain was the obvious, naked +fact that Carrington had struck at him again; that he +had struck underhandedly, as usual; and that he would +continue to fight with that method until he was victorious +or beaten. +</p> +<p> +And yet Taylor was not so much concerned over the +blow that had been aimed at him as he was of its probable +effect upon Marion Harlan. For of course the girl had +heard of the charge by this time—or she would hear of +it. It would be all the same in the end. And at a blow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span> +the girl’s faith in him would be destroyed—the faith that +he had been nurturing, and upon which he had built his +hopes. +</p> +<p> +To be sure he had Larry Harlan’s note to show her, to +convince her of his innocence, but he knew that once the +poison of suspicion and doubt got into her heart, she could +never give him that complete confidence of which he had +dreamed. She might, now that Carrington had spread +his poison, conclude that he had forged the note, trusting +in it to disarm the suspicions of herself and of the world. +And if she were to demand why he had not shown her the +note before—when she had first come to the Arrow—he +could not tell her that he had determined never to show +it to her, lest she understand that he knew her mother’s +sordid history. That secret, he had promised himself, she +would never know; nor would she ever know of the +vicious significance of that conversation he had overheard +between Carrington and Parsons on the train coming to +Dawes. He was convinced that if she knew these things +she would never be able to look him in the eyes again. +</p> +<p> +Therefore, knowing the damage Carrington had +wrought by bringing the charge of murder against him, +Taylor’s rage was now definitely centered upon his enemy. +The pursuit and punishment of Keats was a matter of +secondary consideration in his mind—Bothwell and the +men of the outfit would take care of the man. But Taylor +could no longer fight off the terrible rage that had seized +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span> +him over the knowledge of Carrington’s foul methods, +and when he mounted Spotted Tail and urged him down +the trail toward the Arrow ranchhouse, there was a set +to his lips that caused Norton, who had brought his horse +to a halt near him, to look sharply at him and draw a +quick breath. +</p> +<p> +Not speaking to Norton, nor to Bud—who had also +remained to watch him—Taylor straightened Spotted +Tail to the trail and sent him flying toward the Arrow. +Taylor looked neither to the right nor left, nor did he +speak to Norton and Bud, who rode hard after him. +Down the trail at a point where the neck of the gorge +broadened and merged into the grass level that stretched, +ever widening, to the Arrow, Spotted Tail and his rider +flashed past a big cluster of low hills from which came +flame-streaks and the sharp, cracking reports of rifles, the +yells of men in pain, and the hoarse curses of men in the +grip of the fighting rage. +</p> +<p> +But Taylor might not have heard the sounds. Certainly +he could not have seen the flame-streaks, unless he +glimpsed them out of the corners of his eyes, for he did +not turn his head as he urged Spotted Tail on, speeding +him over the great green sweep of grass at a pace that +the big horse had never yet been ridden. +</p> +<p> +Laboring behind him, for they knew that something +momentous impended, Norton and Bud tried their best to +keep up with the flying beast ahead of them. But the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> +sorrel ridden by Norton, and even the great, rangy, lionhearted +King, could not hold the pace that Spotted Tail +set for them, and they fell slowly back until, when still +several miles from the Arrow, horse and rider vanished +into the dusk ahead of them. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span><a name='chXXXIII' id='chXXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXXIII—RETRIBUTION</h2> +<p> +Twice descending the long slope leading to the +basin, Martha’s horse stumbled. The first time +the negro woman lifted him to his feet by jerking sharply +on the reins, but when he stumbled the second time, +Martha was not alert and the horse went to his knees. +Unprepared, Martha was jolted out of the saddle and she +fell awkwardly, landing on her right shoulder with a +force that knocked the breath out of her. +</p> +<p> +She lay for a short time, gasping, her body racked with +pain, and at last, when she succeeded in getting to her +feet, the horse had strayed some little distance from her +and was quietly browsing the tops of some saccaton. +</p> +<p> +It was several minutes before Martha caught the animal—several +minutes during which she loosed some picturesque +and original profanity that caused the experienced +range horse to raise his ears inquiringly. +</p> +<p> +Then, when she caught the horse, she had some trouble +getting into the saddle, though she succeeded after a +while, groaning, and grunting, and whimpering. +</p> +<p> +But Martha forgot her pains and misery once she was +in the saddle again, and she rode fast, trembling with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span> +eagerness, her sympathies and her concern solely for the +white girl who, she supposed, was a prisoner in the hands +of the ruthless and unprincipled man that Martha, +with her limited vocabulary, had termed many times a +“rapscallion.” +</p> +<p> +Martha headed her horse straight for the Mullarky +cabin, guided by a faint shaft of light that issued from +one of its windows. +</p> +<p> +When she reached the cabin she found no one there but +Mrs. Mullarky. Ben, Mrs. Mullarky told Martha, had +gone to Dawes—in fact, he had been in Dawes all day, +she supposed, for he had left home early that morning. +</p> +<p> +Martha gasped out her news, and Mrs. Mullarky’s face +whitened. While Martha watched her in astonishment, +she tore off the gingham apron that adorned her, threw +it into a corner, and ran into another room, from which +she emerged an instant later carrying a rifle. +</p> +<p> +The Irishwoman’s face was pale and set, and the light +of a great wrath gleamed in her eyes. Martha, awed by +the woman’s belligerent appearance, could only stand and +blink at her, her mouth gaping with astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“You go right on to the Arrow!” she commanded +Martha, as she went out of the door; “mebbe you’ll find +somebody there by this time, an’ if you do, send them to +the big house. I’m goin’ over there right this minute to +take that dear little girl away from that big brute!” +</p> +<p> +She started while Martha was again painfully mounting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span> +her horse, and the two women rode away in opposite +directions—Martha whimpering with pain, and Mrs. +Mullarky silent, grim, with a wild rage gripping her heart. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +Taylor, on Spotted Tail, was approaching the Arrow +ranchhouse at a speed slightly greater than that into which +the big horse had fallen shortly after he had left the gorge. +The spirited animal was just warming to his work, and +he was doing his best when he flashed past the big cattle +corral, going with the noise of rushing wind. In an instant +he was at the long stretch of fence which formed the +ranchyard side of the horse corral, and in another instant +he was sliding to a halt near the edge of the front porch +of the ranchhouse itself. There he drew a deep breath +and looked inquiringly at his master, while the latter slid +off his back, leaped upon the porch, and with a bound +crossed the porch floor, knocking chairs helter-skelter as +he went. +</p> +<p> +The house was dark, but Taylor ran through the rooms, +calling sharply for Parsons and Marion, but receiving no +reply. When he emerged from the house his face, in the +light of the moon that had climbed above the horizon +some time before, was like that of a man who has just +looked upon the dead face of his best friend. +</p> +<p> +For Taylor was convinced that he had looked upon +death in the ranchhouse—upon the death of his hopes. +He stood for an instant on the porch, while his passions +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293'></a>293</span> +raged through him, and then with a laugh of bitter humor +he leaped on Spotted Tail. +</p> +<p> +Half-way to the Mullarky cabin, with the big horse +running like the wind, Taylor saw a shape looming out +of the darkness ahead of him. He pulled Spotted Tail +down, and loosed one of his pistols, and approached the +shape warily, his muscles stiff and taut and ready for +action. +</p> +<p> +But it was only Martha who rode up to him. Her fortitude +gone, her pains convulsing her, she wailed to Taylor +the story of the night’s tragic adventure. +</p> +<p> +“An’ Carrington’s got missy in the big house!” she +concluded. “She fit him powerful hard, but it was no +use—that rapscallion too much fo’ her!” +</p> +<p> +She shouted the last words at Taylor, for Spotted Tail +had received a jab in the sides with the rowels that hurt +him cruelly, and, angered, he ran like a deer with the +hungry cry of a wolf-pack in his ears. +</p> +<p> +Like a black streak they rushed by Mrs. Mullarky, who +breathed a fervent, “Oh, thank the Lord, it’s Taylor!” +and before the good woman could catch her breath again, +Spotted Tail and his rider had opened a huge, yawning +space between himself and the laboring horse the woman +rode. +</p> +<p> +Riding with all his muscles taut as bowstrings, and a +terrible, constricting pressure across his chest—so mighty +were the savage passions that rioted within him—Taylor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span> +reached the foot of the long slope that led to the big +house, and sent Spotted Tail tearing upward with rapid, +desperate leaps. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +When Carrington reached the big house soon after he +had unknowingly passed Marion Harlan and Parsons on +the river trail, he was in a sullen, impatient mood. +</p> +<p> +For no word concerning Keats’s movements had reached +Dawes, and Carrington was afflicted with a gloomy presentiment +that something had happened to the man—that +he had not been able to locate Taylor, or that he had +found him and Taylor had succeeded in escaping him. +</p> +<p> +Carrington did not go at once into the house, for captive +though she was, and completely within his power, +he did not want the girl to see him in his present mood. +Lighting a cigar, and chewing it viciously, he walked to +the stable. There, standing in the shadow of the building, +he came upon the guard Martha had routed. He spoke +sharply to the man, asking him why he was not inside +guarding the “nigger.” +</p> +<p> +The man brazenly announced that Martha had escaped +him, omitting certain details and substituting others from +his imagination. +</p> +<p> +“If she hadn’t been a woman, now,” added the man +in self-extenuation. +</p> +<p> +Carrington laughed lowly. “We didn’t need <em>her</em>, anyway,” +he said, and the other laughed with him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span> +</p> +<p> +The laugh restored Carrington’s good-nature, and he +left the man and went into the front room of the house. +Had he paused on the porch to listen, or had he glanced +toward the big slope that dropped to the basin, he would +not have entered the house just then. And he <em>would</em> have +paused on the porch had it not been that the intensity +of his desires drove him to concentrate all his senses upon +Marion. +</p> +<p> +He crossed the porch and entered the room, and then +halted, staring downward with startled eyes at the body +of the guard huddled on the floor, a thin stream of blood +staining the carpet beneath his head. +</p> +<p> +Cursing, Carrington stepped into the other room—the +room in which he had fought with Taylor—the room +in which he had left Marion Harlan bound and sitting on +a chair. The lamp on the shelf was still burning, and in +its light Carrington saw the rope he had used to bind the +girl’s hands. +</p> +<p> +A bitter rage seized him as he looked at the rope, and +he threw it from him, cursing. In an instant he was outside +the house and had leaped upon his horse. He headed +the animal toward the long slope leading to the Arrow +trail, for he suspected the girl would go straight back +there, despite any conviction she might have of Taylor’s +guilt—for there she would find Parsons, who would give +her what comfort he could. Or she might stop at the +Mullarky cabin. Certainly she would not go to Dawes, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296'></a>296</span> +for she must know that <em>he</em> ruled Dawes—Parsons must +have told her that—and that if she went to Dawes, she +would be merely postponing her surrender to him. +</p> +<p> +He had plenty of time, even if she were in Dawes, he +meditated as he sent his horse over the crest of the slope, +for there were no trains out of the town during the night, +and if she were not at the Arrow or Mullarky’s, he was +sure to catch her later. +</p> +<p> +He was half-way down the slope, his horse making slow +work of threading its way through the gnarled chaparral +growth, when, looking downward, he saw another horse +leaping up the slope toward him. +</p> +<p> +In the glare of the moon that was behind Carrington, +he could see horse and rider distinctly, and he jerked his +own horse to a halt, cursing horribly. For the horse that +was leaping toward him like a black demon out of the +night was Spotted Tail. And Spotted Tail’s rider was +Taylor. Carrington could see the man’s face, with the +terrible passion that distorted it, and Carrington wheeled +his horse, making frenzied efforts to escape up the slope. +</p> +<p> +Carrington was not more than a hundred feet from the +big black horse and its indomitable rider when he wheeled +his own animal, and he had not traveled more than a few +feet when he realized that Spotted Tail was gaining +rapidly. +</p> +<p> +Cursing again, though his face was ghastly with the +fear that had seized him, Carrington slipped from his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297'></a>297</span> +horse, and, running around so that the animal was between +him and Taylor, he drew a heavy pistol from a hip-pocket. +And when the oncoming horse and rider were +within twenty-five or thirty feet of him, Carrington took +deliberate aim and fired. +</p> +<p> +He grinned vindictively as he saw Taylor reel in the +saddle, and he fired again, and saw Taylor drop to the +ground beside Spotted Tail. +</p> +<p> +Carrington could not tell whether his second shot had +struck Taylor, and before he could shoot again, Taylor +dove headlong toward a jagged rock that thrust a bulging +shoulder upward. Carrington threw a snapshot at him +as he leaped, but again he could not have told whether the +bullet had gone home. +</p> +<p> +Keeping the horse between himself and the rock behind +which Taylor had thrown himself, Carrington leaped +behind another that stood near the edge of the chaparral +clump through which he had been riding when he had +seen Taylor coming up the slope. Seeming to sense their +danger, both horses slowly moved off out of the line of +fire and proceeded unconcernedly to browse the clumps +of grass that dotted the side of the slope. +</p> +<p> +And now began a long, strained silence. Carrington +could see Taylor’s rock, but it was at the edge of the +chaparral, and Taylor might easily slip into the chaparral +and begin a circling movement that would bring him +behind Carrington. The thought brought a damp sweat +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298'></a>298</span> +out upon Carrington’s forehead, and he began to cast +fearing glances toward the chaparral at his side. He +watched it long, and the longer he watched, the greater +grew his fear. And at last, at the end of half an hour, +the fear grew to a conviction that Taylor was stalking +him in the chaparral. No longer able to endure the suspense, +Carrington left the shelter of his rock and began +to work his way around the edge of the chaparral +clump. +</p> +<p> +Taylor had felt the heat and the shock of Carrington’s +first bullet, and he knew it had gone into his left arm. +The second bullet had missed him cleanly, and he landed +behind the rock, with all his senses alert, paying no +attention to his wound. +</p> +<p> +He had recognized Carrington, and with the cold calm +that comes with implacable determination, Taylor instantly +began to take an inventory of the hazards and +the advantages of his position. And after his examination +was concluded, he dropped to his hands and knees +and began to work his way into the chaparral. +</p> +<p> +He moved cautiously, for he knew that should he disturb +the rank growth he would disclose his whereabouts +to Carrington, should the latter have gained a vantageous +point from where he could watch the thicket for just such +signs of Taylor’s presence. +</p> +<p> +But Taylor made no such signs; he had not spent the +greater part of his life in the open to be outdone in this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299'></a>299</span> +grim strategy by an eastern man. He grinned wickedly +at the thought. +</p> +<p> +He suspected that Carrington might try the very trick +he himself was trying, and that thought made him wary. +</p> +<p> +Working his way into the thicket, he at last reached +a point near its center, upon a slight mound surrounded +by stunt oak and quivering aspen. There, concealed and +alert, he waited for Carrington to show himself. +</p> +<p> +Carrington, though, did not betray his presence in the +thicket. For Carrington was not in the thicket when +Taylor reached its center. Carrington had started into +the thicket, but he had not proceeded very far when he +began to be afflicted with a dread premonition of Taylor’s +presence somewhere in the vicinity. +</p> +<p> +A clammy sweat broke out on the big man; a panic of +fear seized him, and he began to creep backward, out of +the thicket. And by the time Taylor reached his vantagepoint, +Carrington was crouching at the thicket’s edge, +near the rock where he had been concealed, oppressed +with a conviction that Taylor was working his way +toward him through the thicket. +</p> +<p> +The big man waited, his nerves taut, his muscles quivering +and cringing at the thought that any instant a +bullet sent at him by Taylor might strike him. For he +knew that Taylor had come for him; he was now convinced +that Marion Harlan <em>had</em> gone to the Arrow, that +she had told Taylor what had happened to her, and that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300'></a>300</span> +Taylor had come straight to the big house to punish +him for his misdeeds. +</p> +<p> +And Carrington had a dread of the sort of punishment +Taylor had dealt him upon a former occasion, and he +wanted no more of it. That was why he had used his +pistol instantly upon recognizing Taylor. He wished, +now, that he had not been so hasty; for he had taken +the initiative, and Taylor would not scruple to imitate +him. +</p> +<p> +In fact, he was so certain that at that moment Taylor +was creeping upon him from some point with the fury +of murder in his heart, that he got to his feet and, looking +over the top of the rock, searched with wild eyes +for his horse. And when he saw the animal not more +than twenty or thirty feet from him, he could not longer +resist the panic that had seized him. Crouching, he +ran for several yards on his hands and feet and then, +nearing his horse, he stood upright and ran for it. +</p> +<p> +As he ran he cringed, for he expected a pistol-shot to +greet his appearance at the side of his horse. But no +report came, and he reached the horse, threw himself +into the saddle and raced the animal down the slope. +</p> +<p> +He was conscious of a pulse of elation, for he thought +he had eluded Taylor, but just as his horse struck the +edge of the big level Carrington looked back, to see +Spotted Tail slipping down the slope with a smooth swiftness +that terrified the big man. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301'></a>301</span> +</p> +<p> +He turned then and began to ride as he had never +ridden before. The animal under him was strong, courageous, +and speedy; but Carrington knew he would have +need of all those sterling qualities if he hoped to escape +the iron-hearted horse Taylor bestrode. And so Carrington +leaned forward, trying to lighten the load, slapping +the beast’s neck with the palm of his hand, urging +him with his voice—coaxing him to the best endeavors. +For Carrington knew that somewhere in the vast expanse +of grass land and spread before him Keats and his men +must be. And his only hope lay in reaching them before +the avenger, astride the big horse that was speeding on +his trail like a black thunderbolt, could bring his rider +within pistol-shot distance of him. +</p> +<p> +But Carrington had not gone more than half a mile +when he realized that the race was to be a short one. +Twice after leaving the edge of the slope Carrington +looked back. The first time Spotted Tail seemed to be +far away; and the next time the big, black animal was +so close that Carrington cried out hoarsely. +</p> +<p> +And then as Carrington felt the distance being shortened—as +he felt the presence of the black horse almost +at the withers of his own animal—heard the breathing +of the big pursuing beast, he knew that he was not to +be shot. +</p> +<p> +Before he could swing his own horse to escape, the +big, black horse was beside his own, and one of Taylor’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302'></a>302</span> +arms shot out, the fingers gripping the collar of the big +man’s coat. Then with a vicious pull, swinging the black +horse wide, Taylor jerked Carrington out of the saddle, +so that he fell sidewise into the deep grass—while the +black horse, eager for a run, and not immediately responding +to Taylor’s pull on the reins, ran some feet before he +halted and wheeled. +</p> +<p> +And when he did finally face toward the spot where +the big man had been jerked from the saddle, it was to +face a succession of flame-streaks that shot from the spot +where Carrington stood trying his best to send into Taylor +a bullet that would put an end to the horrible presentiment +of death that now filled the big man’s heart. +</p> +<p> +He emptied his pistol and saw the black horse coming +steadily toward him, its rider erect in the saddle, seeming +not to heed the savagely barking weapon. And when +the gun was empty, Carrington threw it from him and +began to run. He ran, and with grim mockery, Taylor +followed him a little distance—followed him until Carrington, +exhausted, his breath coming in great coughing +gasps, could run no farther. And then Taylor +brought the big black to a halt near him, slid easily +out of the saddle, and stepped forward to look into Carrington’s +face, his own stiff and set, his eyes gleaming +with a passion that made the other man groan hopelessly. +</p> +<p> +“Now, you miserable whelp!” said Taylor. +</p> +<p> +He lunged forward and the bodies of the two men made +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303'></a>303</span> +a swaying blot out of which came the sounds of blows, +bitter and savage. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +The little broken-nosed man laughed a little in recollection +of Carrington’s words about Martha. The big +man had let him off easily, and he was properly grateful. +And yet his gratitude did not prevent him from betraying +curiosity; and he watched the front of the house for +Carrington’s reappearance, wondering what he meant to +do with the white girl, now that he had her. +</p> +<p> +Still watching the front porch, he saw Carrington run +for his horse, leap upon it and sink down the side of the +slope. +</p> +<p> +The little man then ran to the front of the house and, +concealed among the trees, watched the duel that was +waged in the moonlight. He saw Carrington break from +the thicket, mount his horse and race out into the plain; +he saw Taylor—for he had recognized him—send +Spotted Tail after Carrington. But he did not see the +finish of the race, nor did he see what followed. But +some minutes later he saw a big, black horse tearing +toward him from the spot where the race had ended. +He muttered gutturally and profanely, leaped on his horse +and sent it plunging down the trail toward Dawes, his +face ghastly with fear. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304'></a>304</span><a name='chXXXIV' id='chXXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXXIV—THE WILL OF THE MOB</h2> +<p> +Parsons had always been an unemotional man. His +own character being immune to the little twinging +impulses of humanness that grow to generous and +unselfish deeds, he had looked with derision upon all +persons who betrayed concern for their fellow-men. And +so Parsons had lived apart from his fellows; he had +watched them from across the gulf of disinterest, where +emotion was foreign. +</p> +<p> +But tonight Parsons was learning what emotion is. +Not from others, but from himself. Emotions—thousands +of them seethed in his brain and heart. He was +in an advanced state of hysteria when he rode down the +Dawes trail with Marion Harlan. For there was the +huge, implacable, ruthless, and murderous Carrington, +whom he had just passed on the trail, to menace his very +life—and he knew that just as soon as Carrington +returned to the big house and found Marion gone and +the guard dead, he would ride back to Dawes, seeking +vengeance. And Carrington would know it was Parsons +who had robbed him of the girl; for Carrington would +inquire, and would discover that he had ridden into town +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305'></a>305</span> +with Marion. And when Parsons and Marion rode into +Dawes fear, stark, abject, and naked, was in the man’s +soul. +</p> +<p> +Dawes was aflame with light as the two passed down +the street; and Parsons left the girl to sit on her horse +in front of a darkened store, while he rode down the +street, peering into other stores, alight and inviting. He +hardly knew what he did want. He knew, however, that +there was little time, for at any minute now Carrington +might come thundering into town on his errand of vengeance; +and whatever Parsons did must be done quickly. +</p> +<p> +He chose the second store he came to. He thought the +place was a billiard-room until he entered and stood just +inside the door blinking at the lights; and then he knew +it was a saloon, for he saw the bar, the back-bar behind +it, littered with bottles, and many tables scattered around. +More, there were perhaps a hundred men in the place—some +of them drinking; and at the sight of them all, +realizing the mightiness of their number, Parsons raised +his hands aloft and screamed frenziedly: +</p> +<p> +“Men! There’s been a crime committed tonight! At +the Huggins house! Carrington did it! He abducted +my niece! I want you men to help me! Carrington is +going to kill me! And I want you to protect my niece!” +</p> +<p> +For an instant after Parsons’ voice died in a breathless +gasp, for he blurted his story, the words coming in a +stream, with hardly a pause between them; there was an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306'></a>306</span> +odd, strained silence. Then a man far back in the room +guffawed loudly: +</p> +<p> +“Plumb loco. Too much forty-rod!” +</p> +<p> +There was a half-hearted gale of laughter at the man’s +taunt; and then many men were around Parsons, ready +to laugh and jeer. And while some of the men peered at +Parsons, cynically inspecting him for signs of drunkenness, +several others ran to the open door and looked out +into the street. +</p> +<p> +“There’s somethin’ in his yappin’, boys,” stated a man +who returned from the door; “there’s a gal out here, sure +enough, setting on a hoss, waitin’.” +</p> +<p> +There was a concerted rush outside to see the girl, and +Parsons was shoved and jostled until he, too, was forced +to go out. And by the time Parsons reached Marion’s +side she had been questioned by the men. And wrathful +curses arose from the lips of men around her. +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t I know he was that kind of a skunk!” shouted +a man near Parsons. “I knowed it as soon as he beat +Taylor out of the election!” +</p> +<p> +“I’m for stringin’ the scum up!” yelled another man. +“This town can git along without guys that go around +abductin’ wimmen!” +</p> +<p> +There were still other lurid and threatening comments. +And many profane epithets rose, burdened with menace, +for Carrington. But the girl, humiliated, weak, and +trembling, did not hear all of them. She saw other men +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307'></a>307</span> +emerging from doorways—all of them running toward +her to join those who had come out of the saloon. And +then she saw a woman coming toward her, the men making +a pathway for her—a motherly looking woman who, +when she came near the girl, smiled up at her sympathetically +and reached up her hands to help the girl out +of the saddle. +</p> +<p> +Marion slipped down, and the woman’s arms went +around her. And with many grimly pitying glances from +the men in the crowd about her, which parted to permit +her to pass, she was led into a private dwelling at a little +distance down the street, into a cozy room where there +were signs of decency and refinement. The woman placed +the girl in a chair, and stood beside her, smoothing her +hair and talking to her in low, comforting tones; while +outside a clamor rose and a confused mutter of many +voices out of which she began to catch sentences, such as: +</p> +<p> +“Let’s fan it to the big house an’ git him!” +</p> +<p> +“There’s too many crooks in this town—let’s run +’em out!” +</p> +<p> +“What in hell did he come here for?” +</p> +<p> +“Judge Littlefield is just as bad—he cheated Taylor out +of the election!” “That’s right,” answered another +voice. “Taylor’s our man!” +</p> +<p> +“They are all wrought up over this, my dear,” said +the woman. “For a long time there has been an undercurrent +of dissatisfaction over the way they cheated +Quinton Taylor out of the mayoralty. I don’t think it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308'></a>308</span> +was a bit fair. And,” she continued, “there are other +things. They have found out that Carrington is behind +a scheme to steal the water rights from the town—something +he did to the board of directors of the irrigation +company, I believe. And he has had his councilmen +pass laws to widen some streets and open new ones. +And the well-informed call it a steal, too. Mr. Norton +has stirred up a lot of sentiment against Carrington and +Danforth, and all the rest of them. Secretly, that is. +And there is that murder charge against Quinton Taylor,” +went on the woman. “That is preposterous! +Taylor was the best friend Larry Harlan ever had!” +</p> +<p> +But the girl turned her head, and her lips quivered, +for the mention of Taylor had brought back to her the +poignant sense of loss that she had felt when she had +learned of the charge against Taylor. She bowed her +head and wept silently, the woman trying again to comfort +her, while outside the noise and tumult grew in volume—threatening +violence. +</p> +<p> +By the time Marion Harlan had dropped into the chair +in the room of the house into which the woman had +taken her, the crowd that had collected in the street was +packed and jammed against the buildings on each side +of it. +</p> +<p> +Those who had come late demanded to be told what +had happened; and some men lifted Parsons to the back +of his horse, and with their hands on his legs, bracing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309'></a>309</span> +him, Parsons repeated the story of what had occurred. +More—yielding to the frenzy that had now taken possession +of his senses, he told of Carrington’s plotting +against the town; of the man’s determination to loot and +steal everything he could get his hands on. He told +them of his own culpability; he assured them he had +been as guilty as Carrington and Danforth—who was +a mere tool, though as unscrupulous as Carrington. He +gave them an account of Carrington’s stewardship of +his own money; and he related the story of Carrington’s +friendship with the governor, connecting Carrington’s +trip to the capital with the stealing of the election from +Taylor. +</p> +<p> +It is the psychology of the mob that it responds in +some measure to the frenzy of the man who agitates it. +So it was with the great crowd that now swarmed the +wide street of Dawes. Partisan feeling—all differences +of opinion that in other times would have barred concerted +action—was swept away by the fervent appeal +Parsons made, and by his complete and scathing revelation +of the iniquitous scheme to rob the town. +</p> +<p> +A great sigh arose as Parsons finished and was drawn +down, his hat off, his hair ruffled, his eyes gleaming with +the strength of the terrible frenzy he was laboring under. +The crowd muttered; voices rose sharply; there was an +impatient movement; a concerted stiffening of bodies +and a long pause, as of preparation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310'></a>310</span> +</p> +<p> +Aroused, seething with passion, with a vindictive desire +for action, swift and ruthless, the crowd waited—waited +for a leader. And while the pause and the mutterings +continued, the leader came. +</p> +<p> +It was the big, grim-faced Bothwell, at the head of +the Arrow outfit. With his horse in a dead run, the +other horses of the outfit crowding him close, Bothwell +brought his horse to a sliding halt at the edge of the +crowd. +</p> +<p> +Bothwell’s eyes were ablaze with the light of battle; +and he stood in his stirrups, looming high above the heads +of the men around him, and shouted: +</p> +<p> +“Where’s my boss—Squint Taylor?” And before +anyone could answer—“Where’s that damned coyote +Carrington? Where’s Danforth? What’s wrong here?” +</p> +<p> +It was Parsons who answered him. Parsons, again +clambering into the saddle from which he had spoken, +now shrieking shrilly: +</p> +<p> +“It’s Carrington’s work! He abducted Marion Harlan, +my niece. He’s a scoundrel and a thief, and he is +trying to ruin this town!” +</p> +<p> +There was a short silence as Parsons slid again to the +ground, and then the man growled profanely: +</p> +<p> +“Let’s run the whole bunch out of town! Start somethin’, +Bothwell!” +</p> +<p> +Bothwell laughed, a booming bellow of grim mirth +that stirred the crowd to movement. “We’ve been startin’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311'></a>311</span> +somethin’! This outfit is out for a clean-up! There’s +been too much sneakin’ an’ murderin’; an’ too many fake +warrants flyin’ around, with a bunch like them Keats guys +sent out to kill innocent men. Damn their hides! Let’s +get ’em—all of ’em!” +</p> +<p> +He flung his horse around and leaped it between the +other horses of the Arrow outfit, sending it straight to +the doors of the city hall. Closing in behind him, the +other members of the Arrow outfit followed; and behind +them the crowd, now able to center its passion upon something +definite, rushed forward—a yelling, muttering, turbulent +mass of men intent to destroy the things which +the common conscience loathes. +</p> +<p> +It seemed a lashing sea of retribution to Danforth and +Judge Littlefield, who were in the mayor’s office, a little +group of their political adherents around them. At the +first sign of a disturbance, Danforth had attempted to +gather his official forces with the intention of preserving +order. But only these few had responded, and they, +white-faced, feeling their utter impotence, were standing +in the room, terror-stricken, when Bothwell and the men +of the Arrow outfit, with the crowd yelling behind them, +entered the door of the office. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +The little, broken-nosed man had done well to leave +the vicinity of the big house before Taylor arrived there. +For when Taylor emerged from the front room, in which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312'></a>312</span> +the light still burned, his soul was still in the grip of a +lust to slay. +</p> +<p> +He was breathing fast when he emerged from the +house, for what he saw there had puzzled him—the +guard lying on the floor and Marion gone—and he stood +for an instant on the porch, scanning the clearing and +the woods around the house with blazing eyes, his guns +in hand. +</p> +<p> +The silence around the house was deep and solemn +now, and over Taylor stole a conviction that Carrington +had sent Marion to Dawes in charge of some of his +men; having divined that he would come for her. But +Taylor did not act upon the conviction instantly. He ran +to the stable, stormed through it—and the other buildings +in the cluster around the ranchhouse; and finding +no trace of men or girl, he at last leaped on Spotted Tail +and sent him thundering over the trail toward Dawes. +</p> +<p> +When he arrived in town a swaying, shouting, shooting +mob jammed the streets. He brought his horse to a +halt on the edge of the crowd that packed the street in +front of the city hall, and demanded to know what was +wrong. +</p> +<p> +The man shouted at him: +</p> +<p> +“Hell’s to pay! Carrington abducted Marion Harlan, +an’ that little guy—Parsons—rescued her. An’ Parsons +made a speech, tellin’ folks what Carrington an’ +Danforth an’ all the rest of the sneakin’ coyotes have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313'></a>313</span> +done, an’ we’re runnin’ the scum out of town!” And +then, before Taylor could ask about the girl, the man +raised his voice to a shrill yell: +</p> +<p> +“It’s Squint Taylor, boys! Squint Taylor! Stand +back an’ let ol’ Squint take a hand in this here deal!” +</p> +<p> +There was a wild, concerted screech of joy. It rose +like the shrieking of a gale; it broke against the buildings +that fringed the street; it echoed and reechoed with +terrific resonance back and forth over the heads of the +men in the crowd. It penetrated into the cozy room of +a private dwelling, where sat a girl who started at the +sound and sat erect, her face paling, her eyes, glowing +with a light that made the motherly looking woman say +to her, softly: +</p> +<p> +“Ah, then you <em>do</em> believe in him, my dear!” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p> +It was when the noise and the tumult had subsided that +Taylor went to her. For he had been told where he +might find her by men who smiled sympathetically at his +back as he walked down the street toward the private +dwelling. +</p> +<p> +She was at the door as soon as he, for she had been +watching from one of the front windows, and had seen +him come toward the house. +</p> +<p> +And when the motherly looking woman saw them in +each other’s arms, the moon and the light from within +the house revealing them to her, and to the men in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314'></a>314</span> +crowd who watched from the street, she smiled gently. +What the two said to each other will never be known, for +their words were drowned in the cheer that rose from +hoarse-voiced men who knew that words are sometimes +futile and unnecessary. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315'></a>315</span><a name='chXXXV' id='chXXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXXV—TRIUMPH AT LAST</h2> +<p> +A month later, Taylor walked to the front door +of the Arrow ranchhouse and stood on the threshold +looking out over the great sweep of green-brown plain +that reached eastward to Dawes. +</p> +<p> +A change had come over Taylor. His eyes had a +gentler light in them—as though they had seen things +that had taken the edge off his sterner side; and there +was an atmosphere about him that created the impression +that his thoughts were at this moment far from violence. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Taylor!” said a voice behind him—from the +front room. There had been an undoubted accent on +the “Mr.” And the voice was one that Taylor knew +well; the sound of it deepened the gentle gleam in his +eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Taylor,” he answered, imparting to the “Mrs.” +exactly the emphasis the voice had placed on the other. +</p> +<p> +There was a laugh behind him, and then the voice +again, slightly reproachful: “Oh, that sounds so <em>awfully</em> +formal, Squint!” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” he said, “you started it.” +</p> +<p> +“I like ‘Squint’ better,” said the voice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316'></a>316</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’m hoping you keep on liking Squint all the days +of your life,” he returned. +</p> +<p> +“I was speaking of names,” declared the voice. +</p> +<p> +“Doan’ yo’ let her fool yo’, Mr. Squint!” came another +voice, “fo’ she think a heap mo’ of you than she think +of yo’ name!” +</p> +<p> +“Martha!” said the first voice in laughing reproof, +“I vow I shall send you away some day!” +</p> +<p> +And then there was a clumping step on the floor, and +Martha’s voice reached the door as she went out of the +house through the kitchen: +</p> +<p> +“I’s goin’ to the bunkhouse to expostulate wif that +lazy Bud Hemmingway. He tole me this mawnin’ he’s +gwine feed them hawgs—an’ he ain’t done it!” +</p> +<p> +And then Mrs. Taylor appeared at the door and placed +an arm around her husband’s neck, drawing his head over +to her and kissing him. +</p> +<p> +She looked much like the Marion Harlan who had left +the Arrow on a night about a month before, though there +was a more eloquent light in her eyes, and a tenderness +had come over her that made her whole being radiate. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you think you had better get ready to go to +Dawes, dear?” she suggested. +</p> +<p> +“I like that better than ‘Squint’ even,” he grinned. +</p> +<p> +For a long time they stood in the doorway very close +together. And then Mrs. Taylor looked up with grave +eyes at her husband. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317'></a>317</span> +</p> +<p> +“Won’t you please let me look at <em>all</em> of father’s note +to you, Squint?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“That can’t be done,” he grinned at her. “For,” he +added, “that day after I let you read part of it I burnt +it. It’s gone—like a lot of other things that are not +needed now!” +</p> +<p> +“But what did it say—that part that you wouldn’t +let me read?” she insisted. +</p> +<p> +“It said,” he quoted, “‘I want you to marry her, +Squint.’ And I have done so—haven’t I?” +</p> +<p> +“Was that <em>all</em>?” she persisted. +</p> +<p> +“I’d call that plenty!” he laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” she sighed, “I suppose that will have to be +sufficient. But get ready, dear; they will be waiting for +you!” She left him and went into a room, from where +she called back to him: “It won’t take me long to +dress.” And then, after an interval: “Where do you +suppose Uncle Elam went?” +</p> +<p> +He scowled out of the doorway; then turned and +smiled. “He didn’t say. And he lost no time saying +farewell to Dawes, once he got his hands on the money +Carrington left.” Taylor’s smile became a laugh, low and +full of amusement. +</p> +<p> +Shortly Mrs. Taylor appeared, attired in a neat riding-habit, +and Taylor donned coat and hat, and they went arm +in arm to the corral gate, where their horses were standing, +having been roped, saddled, and bridled by the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318'></a>318</span> +“lazy” Bud Hemmingway, who stood outside the bunkhouse +grinning at them. +</p> +<p> +“Well, good luck!” Bud called after them as they +rode toward Dawes. +</p> +<p> +Lingering much on the way, and stopping at the Mullarky +cabin, they finally reached the edge of town and +were met by Neil Norton, who grinned widely when he +greeted them. +</p> +<p> +Norton waved a hand at Dawes. As in another time, +Dawes was arrayed in holiday attire, swathed in a riot +of color—starry bunting, flags, and streamers, with hundreds +of Japanese lanterns suspended festoonlike across +the streets. And now, as Taylor and the blushing, moist-eyed +woman at his side rode down the street, a band on +a platform near the station burst into music, its brazen-tongued +instruments drowning the sound of cheering. +</p> +<p> +“We got that from Lazette,” grinned Norton. “We +had to have <em>some</em> noise! As I told you the other day,” +he went on, speaking loudly, so that Taylor could hear +him above the tumult, “it is all fixed up. Judge Littlefield +stayed on the job here, because he promised to be +good. He hadn’t really done anything, you know. And +after we made Danforth and the five councilmen resign +that night, and saw them aboard the east-bound the next +morning, we made Littlefield wire the governor about +what had happened. Littlefield went to the capital +shortly afterward and told the governor some things that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319'></a>319</span> +astonished him. And the governor appointed you to fill +Danforth’s unexpired term. But, of course, that was +only an easy way for the governor to surrender. So +everything is lovely.” +</p> +<p> +Norton paused, out of breath. +</p> +<p> +And Taylor smiled at his wife. “Yes,” he said, as +he took her arm, “this is a mighty good little old world—if +you treat it right.” +</p> +<p> +“And if you stay faithful,” added the moist-eyed +woman. +</p> +<p> +“And if you fall in love,” supplemented Taylor. +</p> +<p> +“And when the people of a town want to honor you,” +added Norton significantly. +</p> +<p> +And then, arm in arm, followed by Norton, Taylor and +his wife rode forward, their horses close together, toward +the great crowd of people that jammed the street around +the band-stand, their voices now raised above the music +that blared forth from the brazen instruments. +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>EDGAR RICE BURROUGH’S NOVELS</span> +</p> +<p> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. +</p> +<p> +TARZAN THE UNTAMED +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Tells of Tarzan’s return to the life of the ape-man in +his search for vengeance on those who took from him his +wife and home. +</p> +<p> +JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan +proves his right to ape kingship. +</p> +<p> +A PRINCESS OF MARS +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Forty-three million miles from the earth—a succession +of the weirdest and most astounding adventures in fiction. +John Carter, American, finds himself on the planet Mars, +battling for a beautiful woman, with the Green Men of +Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet high, mounted on +horses like dragons. +</p> +<p> +THE GODS OF MARS +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Continuing John Carter’s adventures on the Planet Mars, +in which he does battle against the ferocious “plant men,” +creatures whose mighty tails swished their victims to instant +death, and defies Issus, the terrible Goddess of Death, +whom all Mars worships and reveres. +</p> +<p> +THE WARLORD OF MARS +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, +Tars Tarkas, Tardos Mors and others. There is a +happy ending to the story in the union of the Warlord, +the title conferred upon John Carter, with Dejah Thoris. +</p> +<p> +THUVIA, MAID OF MARS +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The fourth volume of the series. The story centers +around the adventures of Carthoris, the son of John Carter +and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian Emperor. +</p> +<p> +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK. +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>ZANE GREY’S NOVELS</span> +</p> +<p> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. +</p> +<p> + THE MAN OF THE FOREST<br /> + THE DESERT OF WHEAT<br /> + THE U. P. TRAIL<br /> + WILDFIRE<br /> + THE BORDER LEGION<br /> + THE RAINBOW TRAIL<br /> + THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT<br /> + RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE<br /> + THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS<br /> + THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN<br /> + THE LONE STAR RANGER<br /> + DESERT GOLD<br /> + BETTY ZANE<br /> +</p> +<p> +LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The life story of “Buffalo Bill” by his sister Helen Cody +Wetmore, with Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey. +</p> +<p> +ZANE GREY’S BOOKS FOR BOYS +</p> +<p> + KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE<br /> + THE YOUNG LION HUNTER<br /> + THE YOUNG FORESTER<br /> + THE YOUNG PITCHER<br /> + THE SHORT STOP<br /> + THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER BASEBALL STORIES<br /> +</p> +<p> +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD’S STORIES OF ADVENTURE</span> +</p> +<p> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. +</p> +<p> +THE RIVER’S END +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A story of the Royal Mounted Police. +</p> +<p> +THE GOLDEN SNARE +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland. +</p> +<p> +NOMADS OF THE NORTH +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of a bear-cub and a dog. +</p> +<p> +KAZAN +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The tale of a “quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky” torn +between the call of the human and his wild mate. +</p> +<p> +BAREE, SON OF KAZAN +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part +he played in the lives of a man and a woman. +</p> +<p> +THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his +battle with Captain Plum. +</p> +<p> +THE DANGER TRAIL +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North. +</p> +<p> +THE HUNTED WOMAN +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A tale of a great fight in the “valley of gold” for a woman. +</p> +<p> +THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of Fort o’ God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness +is blended with the courtly atmosphere of France. +</p> +<p> +THE GRIZZLY KING +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of Thor, the big grizzly. +</p> +<p> +ISOBEL +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A love story of the Far North. +</p> +<p> +THE WOLF HUNTERS +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness. +</p> +<p> +THE GOLD HUNTERS +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds. +</p> +<p> +THE COURAGE OF MARGE O’DOONE +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women. +</p> +<p> +BACK TO GOD’S COUNTRY +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made +from this book. +</p> +<p> +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>FLORENCE L. BARCLAY’S NOVELS</span> +</p> +<p> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. +</p> +<p> +THE WHITE LADIES OF WORCESTER +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A novel of the 12th Century. The heroine, believing she +had lost her lover, enters a convent. He returns, and interesting +developments follow. +</p> +<p> +THE UPAS TREE +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A love story of rare charm. It deals with a successful +author and his wife. +</p> +<p> +THROUGH THE POSTERN GATE +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of a seven day courtship, in which the discrepancy +in ages vanished into insignificance before the +convincing demonstration of abiding love. +</p> +<p> +THE ROSARY +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of a young artist who is reputed to love beauty +above all else in the world, but who, when blinded through +an accident, gains life’s greatest happiness. A rare story +of the great passion of two real people superbly capable of +love, its sacrifices and its exceeding reward. +</p> +<p> +THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The lovely young Lady Ingleby, recently widowed by the +death of a husband who never understood her, meets a fine, +clean young chap who is ignorant of her title and they fall +deeply in love with each other. When he learns her real +identity a situation of singular power is developed. +</p> +<p> +THE BROKEN HALO +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of a young man whose religious belief was +shattered in childhood and restored to him by the little +white lady, many years older than himself, to whom he is +passionately devoted. +</p> +<p> +THE FOLLOWING OF THE STAR +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of a young missionary, who, about to start for +Africa, marries wealthy Diana Rivers, in order to help her +fulfill the conditions of her uncle’s will, and how they finally +come to love each other and are reunited after experiences +that soften and purify. +</p> +<p> +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>ETHEL M. DELL’S NOVELS</span> +</p> +<p> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. +</p> +<p> +THE LAMP IN THE DESERT +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and +tells of the lamp of love that continues to shine through +all sorts of tribulations to final happiness. +</p> +<p> +GREATHEART +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals +a noble soul. +</p> +<p> +THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A hero who worked to win even when there was only +“a hundredth chance.” +</p> +<p> +THE SWINDLER +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of a “bad man’s” soul revealed by a +woman’s faith. +</p> +<p> +THE TIDAL WAVE +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Tales of love and of women who learned to know the +true from the false. +</p> +<p> +THE SAFETY CURTAIN +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A very vivid love story of India. The volume also +contains four other long stories of equal interest. +</p> +<p> +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>“STORM COUNTRY” BOOKS BY GRACE MILLER WHITE</span> +</p> +<p> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. +</p> +<p> +JUDY OF ROGUES’ HARBOR +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Judy’s untutored ideas of God, her love of wild things, +her faith in life are quite as inspiring as those of Tess. +Her faith and sincerity catch at your heart strings. This +book has all of the mystery and tense action of the other +Storm Country books. +</p> +<p> +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +It was as Tess, beautiful, wild, impetuous, that Mary +Pickford made her reputation as a motion picture actress. +How love acts upon a temperament such as hers—a temperament +that makes a woman an angel or an outcast, according +to the character of the man she loves—is the +theme of the story. +</p> +<p> +THE SECRET OF THE STORM COUNTRY +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The sequel to “Tess of the Storm Country,” with the +same wild background, with its half-gypsy life of the squatters—tempestuous, +passionate, brooding. Tess learns the +“secret” of her birth and finds happiness and love through +her boundless faith in life. +</p> +<p> +FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A haunting story with its scene laid near the country +familiar to readers of “Tess of the Storm Country.” +</p> +<p> +ROSE O’ PARADISE +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Jinny” Singleton, wild, lovely, lonely, but with a passionate +yearning for music, grows up in the house of Lafe +Grandoken, a crippled cobbler of the Storm Country. Her +romance is full of power and glory and tenderness. +</p> +<p> +<em>Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</em> +</p> +<p> +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>BOOTH TARKINGTON’S NOVELS</span> +</p> +<p> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. +</p> +<p> +SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed +the immortal young people of this story. Its humor is irresistible +and reminiscent of the time when the reader was +Seventeen. +</p> +<p> +PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +This is a picture of a boy’s heart, full of the lovable, humorous, +tragic things which are locked secrets to most older +folks. It is a finished, exquisite work. +</p> +<p> +PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Like “Penrod” and “Seventeen,” this book contains +some remarkable phases of real boyhood and some of the best +stories of juvenile prankishness that have ever been written. +</p> +<p> +THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts +against his father’s plans for him to be a servitor of +big business. The love of a fine girl turns Bibbs’ life from +failure to success. +</p> +<p> +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A story of love and politics,—more especially a picture of +a country editor’s life in Indiana, but the charm of the book +lies in the love interest. +</p> +<p> +THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The “Flirt,” the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl’s +engagement, drives one man to suicide, causes the murder +of another, leads another to lose his fortune, and in the end +marries a stupid and unpromising suitor, leaving the really +worthy one to marry her sister. +</p> +<p> +<em>Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</em> +</p> +<p> +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>KATHLEEN NORRIS’ STORIES</span> +</p> +<p> +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list +</p> +<p> +SISTERS. Frontispiece by Frank Street. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The California Redwoods furnish the background for this +beautiful story of sisterly devotion and sacrifice. +</p> +<p> +POOR, DEAR, MARGARET KIRBY. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Frontispiece by George Gibbs. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A collection of delightful stories, including “Bridging the +Years” and “The Tide-Marsh.” This story is now shown in +moving pictures. +</p> +<p> +JOSSELYN’S WIFE. Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The story of a beautiful woman who fought a bitter fight for +happiness and love. +</p> +<p> +MARTIE, THE UNCONQUERED. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Illustrated by Charles E. Chambers. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +The triumph of a dauntless spirit over adverse conditions. +</p> +<p> +THE HEART OF RACHAEL. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +An interesting story of divorce and the problems that come +with a second marriage. +</p> +<p> +THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A sympathetic portrayal of the quest of a normal girl, obscure +and lonely, for the happiness of life. +</p> +<p> +SATURDAY’S CHILD. Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +Can a girl, born in rather sordid conditions, lift herself through +sheer determination to the better things for which her soul +hungered? +</p> +<p> +MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +A story of the big mother heart that beats in the background +of every girl’s life, and some dreams which came true. +</p> +<p> +<em>Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</em> +</p> +<p> +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York +</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ranchman, by Charles Alden Seltzer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RANCHMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 37204-h.htm or 37204-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/0/37204/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ranchman + +Author: Charles Alden Seltzer + +Illustrator: P. V. E. Ivory + +Release Date: August 25, 2011 [EBook #37204] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RANCHMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: CARRINGTON LAUGHED JEERINGLY. (Page 268)] + + + + + THE + RANCHMAN + + BY + CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER + + AUTHOR OF + THE BOSS OF THE LAZY Y, + FIREBRAND TREVISON, + THE RANGE BOSS, ETC. + + FRONTISPIECE BY + P. V. E. IVORY + NEW YORK + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS + + Made in the United States of America + + + + + Copyright + A. C. McClurg & Co. + 1919 + + Published September, 1919 + + _Copyrighted in Great Britain_ + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I Concerning Dawes 1 + II Slick Duds 14 + III The Serpent Trail 20 + IV The Hold-Up 26 + V The Unexpected 36 + VI A Man Makes Plans 51 + VII The Shadow of the Past 59 + VIII Concerning "Squint" 66 + IX A Man Lies 75 + X The Frame-Up 86 + XI "No Fun Fooling Her" 91 + XII Lifting the Mask 106 + XIII The Shadow of Trouble 113 + XIV The Face of a Fighter 128 + XV Gloom--and Plans 142 + XVI A Man Becomes a Brute 153 + XVII The Wrong Ankle 172 + XVIII The Beast Again 186 + XIX The Ambush 193 + XX A Fight to a Finish 200 + XXI A Man Faces Death 212 + XXII Looking for Trouble 218 + XXIII A World-Old Longing 225 + XXIV A Death Warrant 232 + XXV Keats Looks for "Squint" 238 + XXVI Keats Finds "Squint" 245 + XXVII Besieged 254 + XXXIII The Fugitive 259 + XXIX The Captive 264 + XXX Parsons Has Human Instincts 270 + XXXI A Rescue 277 + XXXII Taylor Becomes Riled 284 + XXXIII Retribution 290 + XXXIV The Will of the Mob 304 + XXXV Triumph at Last 315 + + + + +THE RANCHMAN + + + + +CHAPTER I--CONCERNING DAWES + + +The air in the Pullman was hot and, despite the mechanical contrivances +built into the coach to prevent such a contingency, the dust from the +right-of-way persisted in filtering through crevices. + +Even the electric fans futilely combated the heat; their droning hum +bespoke terrific revolutions which did not materially lessen the +discomfort of the occupants of the coach; and the dry, dead dust of the +desert, the glare of a white-hot sun, the continuing panorama of waste +land, rolling past the car windows, afforded not one cool vista to +assuage the torture of travel. + +For hours after leaving Kansas City, several of the passengers had +diligently gazed out of the windows. But when they had passed the vast +grass plains and had entered the desert, where their eyes met nothing +but endless stretches of feathery alkali dust, beds of dead lava, and +clumps of cacti with thorny spire and spatula blade defiantly upthrust +as though in mockery of all life--the passengers drew the shades and +settled down in their seats to endure the discomfort of it all. + +A _blase_ tourist forward reclined in one seat and rested his legs on +another. From under the peak of a cap pulled well down over his eyes he +smiled cynically at his fellow-passengers, noting the various +manifestations of their discomfort. The tourist was a transcontinental +traveler of note and he had few expectations. It amused him to watch +those who had. + +A girl of about twenty, seated midway in the coach to the left of the +tourist, had been an intent watcher of the desert. With the covert eye +of the tourist upon her she stiffened, stared sharply out of the window, +then drew back, shuddering, a queer pallor on her face. + +"She's seen something unpleasant," mused the tourist. "A heap of +bleached bones--which would be the skeleton of a steer; or a +rattlesnake--or most anything. She's got nerves." + +_One_ passenger in the car had no nerves--of that the tourist was +convinced. The tourist had observed him closely, and the tourist was a +judge of men. The nerveless one was a young man who sat in a rear seat +staring intently out into the inferno of heat and sand, apparently +absorbed in his thoughts and unaware of any physical discomfort. + +"Young--about twenty-seven or twenty-eight--maybe thirty," mused the +tourist; "but an old-timer in this country. I wised up to him when he +got aboard at Kansas City. Been a miner in his time--or a cow-puncher. +I'd hate to cross him." + +Among the other passengers were two who attracted the attention of the +tourist. They occupied the seat in front of the young man. + +One of the two, who sat nearest the window, was not much older than the +young man occupying the seat behind him. The tourist guessed his age to +be around thirty-five or thirty-six. He was big, almost massive, and had +lived well--as the slightly corpulent stomach revealed. Despite that, +however, he was in good physical condition, for his cheeks glowed with +good healthy color under the blue-black sheen of his fresh-shaved beard; +there was a snapping twinkle in his black eyes, which were penetrating +and steady; and there was a quiet confidence in his manner which told +that he knew and appreciated himself. He was handsome in a heavy, +sensuous fashion, and his coal-black hair, close-cropped and wavy, gave +him an appearance of virility and importance that demanded a second +look. The man seated beside him was undersized and ordinary-looking, +with straight, iron-gray hair and a look of having taken orders all his +life. The tourist set his age at fifty-five. + +The girl was of the type that the tourist admired. He had seen her kind +in the far corners of the world, on the thronged streets of cosmopolitan +cities, in isolated sections of the world--the self-reliant, quietly +confident American girl whose straight-in-the-eye glance always made a +man feel impelled to respectfully remove his hat. + +She was not beautiful, but she was undeniably good-looking. She was +almost tall, and the ease and grace of her movements sufficed to convey +to the tourist some conception of the symmetrical lines of her figure. +If her features had been more regular, the girl would have been plain; +but there was a slight uptilt to her nose that hinted of piquancy, +denied by the quiet, steady eyes. + +A brown mass of hair, which she had twisted into bulging coils and +glistening waves, made the tourist wonder over her taste in that +feminine art. + +"She knows what becomes her," he decided. + +He knew the two men seated in front of the young man were traveling with +her, for he had seen them together, with the older man patting her +shoulder affectionately. But often she left them with their talk, which +did not seem to interest her, while she withdrew to a distant seat to +read or to gaze out of the window. + +She had not seemed to notice either the man of colorless personality or +the young man who occupied the seat behind her friends. If she had +glanced at them at all it was with that impersonal interest one feels in +the average traveler one meets anywhere. + +But long ago--which, to be strictly accurate, was when he had entered +the coach at Kansas City--Quinton Taylor had been interested in her. He +was content, though, to conceal that interest, and not once when she +chanced to look toward him did she catch him looking at her. + +Taylor knew he was no man to excite the interest of women, not even when +he looked his best. And he knew that in his present raiment he did not +look his best. He was highly uncomfortable. + +For one thing, the white, starched collar he wore irritated him, choked +him, reddening his face and bulging his eyes. The starched shirt had a +pernicious habit of tightly sticking to him, the seams chafing his skin. + +The ready-made suit he had bought at Kansas City was too small, and he +could feel his shoulders bulging through the arms of the coat, while the +trousers--at the hips and the knees--were stretched until he feared the +cloth would not stand the strain. + +The shoes were tight, and the derby hat--he glowered humorously at it in +the rack above his head and gazed longingly at the suitcase at his feet, +into which he had crammed the clothing he had discarded and which he had +replaced at the suggestion of his banker in Kansas City. Cowboy rigging +was not uncommon to Kansas City, the banker had told him, but +still--well, if a man was wealthy, and wished to make an impression, it +might be wise to make the change. + +Not in years had Taylor worn civilized clothing, and he was fully +determined that before reaching his home town he would resume the +clothing to which he was accustomed--and throw the new duds out of a +window. He reddened over an imaginary picture of himself descending from +the train in his newly acquired rigging to endure the humorous comments +of his friends. Old Ben Mullarky, for instance, would think he had gone +loco--and would tell him so. Yes, the new clothes were doomed; some +ragged overland specimen of the genus "hobo" would probably find them +or, if not, they would clutter up the right-of-way as the sad memento of +a mistake he had made during a fit of momentary weakness. + +As a matter of fact the girl had noticed Taylor. A girl will notice men, +unconsciously. Sitting at her window even now, she was thinking of him. + +She was not aware that she had studied him, or that she had even glanced +at him. But despite her lack of interest in him she had a picture of him +in mind, and her thoughts dwelt upon him. + +She, too, had been aware that Taylor's clothes did not fit him. She had +noticed the bulging shoulders, the tight trousers, the shoes, squeaking +with newness, when once he had passed through the car to go out upon the +platform. She had noticed him screwing his neck around in the collar; +she had seen him hunch his shoulders intolerantly; she had seen that the +trousers were too short; that he looked like an awkward farmer or +homesteader abroad on a pleasure trip, and decidedly uncomfortable in +the unaccustomed attire. + +She had giggled to herself, then. For Taylor did make a ridiculous +figure. But later--when he had reentered the car and she had looked +fairly, though swiftly, at him as he advanced down the aisle--she had +seen something about him that had impressed her. And that was what she +was thinking about now. It was his face, she believed. It was red with +self-consciousness and embarrassment, but she had seen and noted the +strength of it--the lean, muscular jaw, the square, projecting chin, the +firm, well-controlled mouth; the steady, steel-blue eyes, the broad +forehead. It had seemed to her that he was humorously aware of the +clothes, but that he was grimly determined to brazen the thing out. + +Her mental picture now gave her the entire view of Taylor as he had come +toward her. And she could see him in a different environment, in cowboy +regalia, on a horse, perfectly at ease. He made a heroic figure. So real +was the picture that she caught herself saying: "Clothes _do_ make the +man!" And then she smiled at her enthusiasm and looked out of the +window. + +Taylor had been thinking of her with the natural curiosity of the man +who knows he has no chance and is not looking for one. But she had +impressed him as resembling someone with whom he had been well +acquainted. For an hour he puzzled his brain in an endeavor to associate +hers with some face of his recollection, but elusive memory resisted his +demands on it with the result that he gave it up and leaned back as +restfully as he could with the consciousness of the physical torture he +was undergoing. + +And then he heard the younger of the two men in front of him speak to +the other: + +"We'll make things hum in Dawes, once we get hold of the reins." + +"But there will be obstacles, Carrington." + +"Sure! Obstacles! Of course. That will make the thing all the more +enjoyable." + +There was a ring in Carrington's voice that struck a chord of sudden +antagonism in Taylor, a note of cunning that acted upon Taylor +instantly, as though the man had twanged discord somewhere in his +nature. + +Dawes was Taylor's home; he had extensive and varied interests there; he +had been largely responsible for Dawes's growth and development; he had +fought for the town and the interests of the town's citizens against the +aggressions of the railroad company and a grasping land company that had +succeeded in clouding the titles to every foot of land owned by Dawes's +citizens--his own included. + +And he had heard rumors of outside interests that were trying to gain a +foothold in Dawes. He had paid little attention to these rumors, for he +knew that capital was always trying to drive wedges that would admit it +to the golden opportunities afforded by new towns, and he had ascribed +the rumors to idle gossip, being aware that such things are talked of by +irresponsibles. + +But the words, "Get hold of the reins," had a sound of craft and +plotting. And there was something in Carrington's manner and appearance +that suggested guile and smooth cunning. Seething with interest, Taylor +closed his eyes and leaned his head back upon the cushion behind him, +simulating sleep. + +He felt Carrington turn; he could feel the man's eyes on him, and he +knew that Carrington was speculating over him. + +He heard the other man whisper, though he could not catch the words. +However, he heard Carrington's answer: + +"Don't be uneasy--I'm not 'spilling' anything. _He_ wouldn't know the +difference if I did. A homesteader hitting town for the first time in a +year, probably. Did you notice him? Lord, what an outfit!" + +He laughed discordantly, resuming in a whisper which carried to Taylor: + +"As I was saying, we'll make things hum. The good folks in Dawes don't +know it, but we've been framing them for quite a spell--been feeding +them Danforth. You don't know Danforth, eh? He's quite a hit with these +rubes. Knows how to smear the soft stuff over them. He's what we call a +'mixer' back in Chicago. Been in Dawes for about a year, working in the +dark. Been going strong during the past few months. Running for mayor +now--election is today. It'll be over by the time we get there. He'll +win, of course; he wired me it was a cinch. Cost a lot, though, but it's +worth it. We'll own Dawes before we get through!" + +It was with an effort that Taylor kept his eyes closed. He heard nothing +further, for the man's voice had dropped lower and Taylor could not hear +it above the roar of the train. + +Still, he had heard enough to convince him that Carrington had designs +on the future welfare of Dawes, and his muscles swelled until the +tight-fitting coat was in dire danger of bursting. + +Danforth he knew slightly. He had always disliked and distrusted the +man. He remembered Danforth's public _debut_ to the people of Dawes. It +had been on the occasion of Dawes's first anniversary and some +public-spirited citizens had decided upon a celebration. They had +selected Danforth as the speaker of the day because of his +eloquence--for Danforth had seized every opportunity to publicly air his +vigorous voice, and Taylor had been compelled to acknowledge that +Danforth was a forceful and able speaker. + +Thereafter, Danforth's voice often found the public ear. He was a +lawyer, and the sign he had erected over the front of the frame building +adjoining the courthouse was as magnificent as Danforth was eloquent. + +But though Taylor had distrusted Danforth, he had found no +evidence--until now--that the lawyer intended to betray his +fellow-citizens. Before leaving Dawes the week before he had heard some +talk, linking Danforth's name with politics, but he had discredited the +talk. His own selection had been Neil Norton, and he had asked his +friends to consider Norton. + +Taylor listened intently, with the hope of hearing more of the +conversation being carried on between the two men in front of him. But +he heard no more on the subject broached by Carrington. Later, however, +his eyes still closed, still pretending to be asleep, he saw through +veiled eyelids the girl rise from her seat and come toward the two men +in front of him. + +For the first time he got a clear, full view of her face and a deep, +disturbing emotion thrilled him. For now, looking fairly at her, he was +more than ever convinced that he had seen her before, or that her +resemblance to someone he had known was more startling than he had +thought. + +Then he heard Carrington speak to her. + +"Getting tired, Miss Harlan?" said Carrington. "Well, it will soon be +ended, now. One more night on the train--and then Dawes." + +The older man laughed, and touched the girl's arm playfully. "You don't +mind it, do you, Marion?" + +The older man said more, but Taylor did not hear him. For at his mention +of the girl's given name, so soon after Carrington's pronouncement of +"Harlan," Taylor's eyes popped open, and he sat erect, staring straight +at the girl. + +Whether her gaze had been drawn by his, or whether her woman's curiosity +had moved her to look at him, Taylor never knew. But she met his wide +gaze fairly, and returned his stare with one equally wide. Only, he was +certain, there was a glint of mocking accusation in her eyes--to remind +him, he supposed, that she had caught him eavesdropping. + +And then she smiled, looking at Carrington. + +"One is recompensed for the inconveniences of travel by the interesting +characters one chances to meet." + +And she found opportunity, with Carrington looking full at her, to throw +a swift, significant glance at Taylor. + +Taylor flushed scarlet. Not, however, because of any embarrassment he +felt over her words, but because at that instant was borne +overwhelmingly upon him the knowledge that the girl, and the man, +Carrington, who accompanied her--even the older man--were persons with +whom Fate had insisted that he play--or fight. They were to choose. And +that they had chosen to fight was apparent by the girl's glance, and by +Carrington's words, "We'll own Dawes before we get through." + +Taylor got up and went to the smoking-room, where he sat for a long +time, staring out of the window, his eyes on the vast sea of sagebrush +that stretched before him, his mental vision fixed on an earlier day and +upon a tragedy that was linked with the three persons in the coach--who +seemed desirous of antagonizing him. + + + + +CHAPTER II--SLICK DUDS + + +After a time Taylor's lips wreathed into a smile. He searched in his +pockets--he had transferred all his effects from the clothing in the +suitcase to his present uncomfortable raiment--and produced a long, +faded envelope in danger of imminent disintegration. + +The smile faded from his lips as he drew out the contents of the +envelope, and a certain grim pity filled his eyes. He read: + + Squint: + + That rock falling on me has fixed me. There is no use in me trying + to fool myself. I'm going out. There's things a man can't say, even + to a friend like you. So I'm writing this. You won't read it until + after I'm gone, and then you can't tell me what you think of me for + shoving this responsibility on you. But you'll accept, I know; + you'll do it for me, won't you? + + I've had a lot of trouble--family trouble. It wouldn't interest you. + But it made me come West. Maybe I shouldn't have come. I don't know; + but it seemed best. + + You've been a mighty persevering friend, and I know you from the + ground up. You never inquired about my past, but I know you've + wondered. Once I mentioned my daughter, and I saw you look sharp at + me. Yes, there is a daughter. Her name is Marion. There was a wife + and her brother, Elam Parsons. But only Marion counts. The others + were too selfish and sneaking. + + You won't be interested in that. But I want Marion taken care of. + She was fifteen when I saw her last. She looked just like me; thank + God for that! She won't have any of the characteristics of the + others! + + Squint, I want you to take care of her. You'll find her in Westwood, + Illinois. You and me have talked of selling the mine. Sell it; take + my share and for it give Marion a half-interest in your ranch, the + Arrow. If there is any left, put it in land in Dawes--that town is + going to boom. Guard it for her, and marry her, Squint; she'll make + you a good wife. Tell her I want her to marry you; she'll do it, for + she always liked her "dad." + +There was more, but Taylor read no further. He stuffed the envelope into +a pocket and sat looking out of the window, regarding morosely the +featureless landscape. After a time he grinned saturninely: + +"Looks to me like a long chance, Larry," he mused. "Considered as a +marrying proposition she don't seem to be enthusiastic over me. Now what +in thunder is she doing out here, and why is that man Carrington with +her--and where did she pick him up?" + +There came no answer to these questions. + +Reluctant, after the girl's mocking smile, to seem to intrude, Taylor +sat in the smoking-compartment during the long afternoon, until the dusk +began to descend--until through the curtains of the compartment he +caught a glimpse of the girl and her companions returning from the +dining-car. Then, after what he considered a decent interval, he emerged +from the compartment, went to the diner, ate heartily, and returned to +the smoking-room. + +He had met Larry Harlan about three years before. Harlan had appeared at +the Arrow one morning, looking for a job. Taylor had hired him, not +because he needed men, but because he thought Harlan needed work. A +friendship had developed, and when one day Harlan had told Taylor about +a mine he had discovered in the Sangre de Christo Mountains, some miles +southwestward, offering Taylor a half-interest if the latter would help +him get at the gold, Taylor had agreed. + +They had found the mine, worked it, and had taken considerable gold out +of it, when one day a huge rock had fallen on Harlan. Taylor had done +what he could, rigging up a drag with which to take Harlan to town and a +doctor, but Harlan had died before town could be reached. + +That had been the extent of Taylor's friendship for the man. But he had +followed Harlan's directions. + +Sitting in the smoking-compartment, he again drew out Harlan's note to +him and read further: + + Marion will have considerable money, and I don't want no sneak to + get hold of it--like the sneak that got hold of the money my wife + had, that I saved. There's a lot of them around. If Marion is going + to fall in love with one of that kind, I'd rather she wouldn't get + what I leave--the man would get it away from her. + + Use your own judgment, and I'll be satisfied. + +It was not difficult for Taylor to divine what had happened to Harlan, +nor was it difficult to understand that the man's distrust of other men +amounted to an obsession. However, Taylor had no choice but to assume +the trust and no course but to obey Harlan's wishes in the matter. + +Taylor's trip eastward to Kansas City had been for the purpose of +attending to his own financial interests, and incidentally to conclude +the deal for the sale of the mine. He had deposited the money in his own +name, but he intended--or had intended--after returning to the Arrow to +make arrangements for his absence, to go to Westwood to find Marion +Harlan. The presence of the girl on the train and the certain conviction +that she was bound for Dawes made the trip to Westwood unnecessary. + +For Taylor had no doubt that the girl was the daughter of Larry Harlan. +That troublesome resemblance of hers to someone of his acquaintance +bothered him no longer, for the girl was the living image of Larry +Harlan. + +Taylor had not anticipated the coming of Carrington into his scheme of +things. For the first time since Larry Harlan's letter had come into his +possession he realized that deep in his heart was a fugitive desire for +the coming of the girl to the Arrow. He had liked Larry Harlan, and he +had drawn mental pictures of what the daughter would be like; and, +though she was not exactly as he had pictured her, she was near enough +to the ideal he had visualized. He wanted, now more than ever, to +faithfully fulfil his obligation to Larry Harlan. + +The presence of Carrington on the train, coupled with the inference that +Carrington was a close friend of the girl's, irritated Taylor. For at +the first glance he had felt a subtle antagonism for the man. Yet he was +more disturbed over the mockery in the girl's eyes when she had looked +directly at him when she had caught him listening to her talk with +Carrington and the older man. + +Still, Taylor was not the type of man who permits the imminence of +discord to disturb his mental equanimity, and he grinned into the +growing darkness of the plains with a grimly humorous twist to his lips +that promised interesting developments should Carrington oppose him. + +When he again looked out of the aperture in the curtains screening the +smoking-compartment from the aisle he saw the porter pass, carrying +bedclothing. Later he saw the porter returning, smilingly inspecting a +bill. After an interval the porter stuck his head through the curtains +and surveyed him with a flashing grin: + +"Is you ready to retiah, boss?" he asked. + +A quarter of an hour later Taylor was alone in his berth, gazing at his +reflection in the glass while he undressed. + +"You wouldn't have the nerve to think she is interested in you, would +you--you homely son-of-a-gun?" he queried of his reflection. "Why, no, +she ain't, of course," he added; "no woman could be interested in you. +You've been all day looking like a half-baked dude--and no woman is +interested in dudes!" + +Carefully removing the contents of the several pockets of the despised +wearing apparel in which he had suffered for many days, he got into his +nightclothes and rang for the porter. When the latter appeared with his +huge grin, Taylor gave him the offensive clothing, bundled together to +form a large ball. + +"George," he said seriously, almost solemnly, "I'm tired of being a +dude. Some day I may decide to be a dude; but not now. Take these duds +and save them until I ask for them. If you offer them to me before I ask +for them, I'll perforate you sure as hell!" + +He produced a big Colt pistol from somewhere, and as the weapon glinted +in the light the porter's eyes bulged and he backed away, gingerly +holding the bundle of clothing. + +"Yassir, boss--yassir! I shuah won't mention it till you does, boss!" + +When the porter had gone, Taylor grinned into the glass. + +"I sure have felt just what I looked," he said. + +Then he got into his berth and dreamed all night of a girl whose mocking +eyes seemed to say: + +"Well, do you think you have profited by listening?" + +"Why, sure," he retorted, in his dreams; "I've seen you, ain't I?" + + + + +CHAPTER III--THE SERPENT TRAIL + + +Marion Harlan did not dream of Quinton Taylor, though her last waking +thought was of him, and when she opened her eyes in the morning it was +to see him as he had sat in the seat behind Carrington and her uncle, +his eyes wide with interest, or astonishment--or some emotion that she +could not define--looking directly at her. + +She had been certain then, and still was certain that he had been +feigning sleep, that he had been listening to the talk carried on +between her uncle and Carrington. + +Why had he listened? + +That interrogation absorbed her thoughts as she dressed. + +She had not meant to be interested in him, for she had, in her first +glance at him, mentally decided that he was no more interesting than +many another ill-dressed and uncouth westerner whom she had seen on the +journey toward Dawes. + +To be sure, she had seen signs of strength in him, mental and physical, +but that had been when she looked at him coming toward her down the +aisle. But even then he had not interested her; her interest began when +she noted his interest in the conversation of her traveling companions. +And then she had noticed several things about him that had escaped her +in other glances at him. + +For one thing, despite the astonishment in his eyes, she had observed +the cold keenness of them, the odd squint at the corners, where little +wrinkles, splaying outward, indicated either deliberate impudence or +concealed mirth. She was rather inclined to believe it the latter, +though she would not have been surprised to discover the wrinkles to +mean the former. + +And then she had noted his mouth; his lips had been straight and firm; +she had been sure they were set resolutely when she had surprised him +looking at her. That had seemed to indicate that he had taken more than +a passing interest in what he had overheard. + +She speculated long over the incident, finally deciding that much would +depend upon what he had overheard. There was only one way to determine +that, and at breakfast in the dining-car she interrogated Carrington. + +"Of course, you and uncle are going to Dawes on business, and I am +merely tagging along to see if I can find any trace of my father. But +have you any business secrets that might interest an eavesdropper? On a +train, for instance--a train going toward Dawes?" + +"What do you mean?" Carrington's eyes flashed as he leaned toward her. + +"Have you and uncle talked business within hearing distance of a +stranger?" + +Carrington's face flushed; he exchanged a swift glance with the other +man. + +"You mean that clodhopper with the tight-fitting hand-me-down in the +seat behind us--yesterday? He was asleep!" + +"Then you did talk business--business secrets," smiled the girl. "I +thought really big men commonly concealed their business secrets from +the eager ears of outsiders." + +She laughed aloud at Carrington's scowl, and then went on: + +"I don't think the clodhopper was asleep. In fact, I rather think he was +very wide awake. I wouldn't say for certain, but I _think_ he was awake. +You see, when I came back to talk with you he was sitting very straight, +and his eyes were wide open. + +"And I shall tell you something else," she went on. "During all the time +he sat behind you, when you were talking, I watched him, he was +pretending to sleep, for at times he opened his eyes and looked at you, +and I am sure he was not thinking pleasant thoughts. And I don't believe +he is a clodhopper. I think he amounts to something; and if you will +look well at him you will see, too. When he was listening to you there +was a look in his eyes that made me think of fighting." And then, after +a momentary pause, she added slowly, "there isn't anything wrong about +the business you are going to transact out here--is there?" + +"Wrong?" he laughed. "Oh, no! Business is business." He leaned forward +and gazed deliberately into her eyes, his own glowing significantly. +"You don't think, with me holding your good opinion--and always hoping +to better it--that I would do anything to destroy it, Marion?" + +The girl's cheeks were suffused with faint color. + +"You are assuming again, Mr. James J. Carrington. I don't care for your +subtle speeches. I like you best when you talk frankly; but I am not +sure that I shall ever like you enough to marry you." + +She smiled at the scowl in his eyes, then looked speculatively at him. +It should have been apparent to him that she had spoken the truth +regarding her feeling for him. + +The uncle knew she had spoken the truth, for she left them presently, +and the car door had hardly closed behind her when Carrington said, +smiling grimly: + +"She's a thoroughbred, Parsons. That's why I like her. I'll have her, +too!" + +"Careful," grinned the other, smoothly. "If she ever discovers what a +brute you are--" He made a gesture of finality. + +"Brute! Bah! Parsons, you make me sick! I'll take her when I want her! +Why do you suppose I told her that fairy tale about her father having +been seen in this locality? To get her out here with me, of +course--where there isn't a hell of a lot of law, and a man's will is +the only thing that governs him. She won't have me, eh? Well, we'll +see!" + +Parsons smirked at the other. "Then you lied about Lawrence Harlan +having been seen in this country?" + +"Sure," admitted Carrington. "Why not?" + +Parsons looked leeringly at Carrington. "Suppose I should tell her?" + +Carrington glared at the older man. "You won't," he declared. "In the +first place, you don't love her as an uncle should because she looks +like Larry Harlan--and you hated Larry. Suppose I should tell her that +you were the cause of the trouble between her parents; that you framed +up on her mother, to get her to leave Larry? Why, you damned, two-faced +gopher, she'd wither you!" + +He grinned at the other and got up, turning, when he reached his feet, +to see Quinton Taylor, standing beside a chair at the next table, just +ready to sit down, but delaying to hear the remainder of the +extraordinary conversation carried on between the two men. + +Taylor had donned the garments he had discarded in Kansas City. A blue +woolen shirt, open at the throat; corduroy trousers, the bottoms stuffed +into the soft tops of high-heeled boots; a well-filled cartridge-belt, +sagging at the right hip with the weight of a heavy pistol--and a +broad-brimmed felt hat, which a smiling waiter held for him--completed +his attire. + +Freshly shaved, his face glowed with the color that betokens perfect +health; and just now his eyes were also glowing--but with frank disgust +and dislike. + +Carrington flushed darkly and stepped close to Taylor. Carrington's chin +was thrust out belligerently; his eyes fairly danced with a rage that he +could hardly restrain. + +"Listening again, eh?" he said hoarsely. "You had your ears trained on +us yesterday, in the Pullman, and now you are at it again. I've a notion +to knock your damned head off!" + +Taylor's eyelids flickered once, the little wrinkles at the corners of +his eyes deepening a trifle. But his gaze was steady, and the blue of +his eyes grew a trifle more steely. + +"You've got a bigger notion not to, Mr. Man," he grinned. "You run a +whole lot to talk." + +He sat down, twisted around in the chair and faced the table, casting a +humorous eye at the black waiter, and ignoring Carrington. + +"I'll want a passable breakfast this morning, George," he said; "I'm +powerful hungry." + +He did not turn when Carrington went out, followed by Parsons. + +The waiter hovered near him, grinning widely. + +"I reckon you-all ain't none scary, boss!" he said, admiringly. + + + + +CHAPTER IV--THE HOLD-UP + + +After breakfast--leaving a widely grinning waiter, who watched him +admiringly--Taylor reentered the Pullman. + +Stretching out in the upholstered seat, Taylor watched the flying +landscape. But his thoughts were upon the two men he had overheard +talking about the girl in the diner. Taylor made a grimace of disgust at +the great world through which the train was speeding; and his feline +grin when his thoughts dwelt definitely upon Carrington, indicated that +the genial waiter had not erred greatly in saying Taylor was not +"scary." + +Upon entering, Taylor had flashed a rapid glance into the car. He had +seen Carrington and Parsons sitting together in one of the seats and, +farther down, the girl, leaning back, was looking out of the window. Her +back was toward Taylor. She had not seen him enter the car--and he was +certain she had not seen him leave it to go to the diner. He had +thought--as he had glanced at her as he went into the smoking +compartment--that, despite the girl's seemingly affectionate manner +toward Parsons, and her cordial treatment of the big man, her manner +indicated the presence of a certain restraint. And as he looked toward +her, he wondered if Parsons or the big man had told her anything of the +conversation in the diner in which he himself figured. + +And now, looking out of the window, he decided that even if the men had +told her, she would not betray her knowledge to him--unless it were to +give him another scornful glance--the kind she threw at him when she saw +him as he sat behind the two men when they had been talking of Dawes. +Taylor reddened and gritted his teeth impotently; for he knew that if +the two men had told her anything, they would have informed her, merely, +that they had again caught him listening to them. And for that double +offense, Taylor knew there would be no pardon from her. + +Half an hour later, while still thinking of the girl and the men, Taylor +felt the train slowing down. Peering as far ahead as he could by +pressing his face against the glass of the window, Taylor saw the train +was entering a big cut between some hills. It was a wild section, with a +heavy growth of timber skirting the hills--on Taylor's side of the +train--and running at a sharp angle toward the right-of-way came a small +river. + +Taylor recognized the place as Toban's Siding. He did not know how the +spot had come by its name; nor did he know much about it except that +there was a spur of track and a water-tank. And when the train began to +slow down he supposed the engineer had decided to stop to take on water. +He found himself wondering, though, why that should be necessary, for he +was certain the train had stopped for water a few miles back, while he +had been in the dining-car. + +The train was already late, and Taylor grinned as he settled farther +back in the seat and drew a sigh of resignation. There was no accounting +for the whims of an engineer, he supposed. + +He felt the train come to a jerking stop; and then fell a silence. An +instant later the silence was broken by two sharp reports, a distinct +interval between them. Taylor sat erect, the smile leaving his face, and +his lips setting grimly as the word "Hold-up" came from between them. + +Marion Harlan also heard the two reports. Stories of train +robberies--recollections of travelers' tales recurred in her brain as +she sat, for the first tense instant following the reports, listening +for other sounds. Her face grew a little pale, and a tremor ran over +her; but she did not feel a bit like screaming--though in all the +stories she had ever read, women always yielded to the hysteria of that +moment in which a train-robber makes his presence known. + +She was not frightened, though she was just a trifle nervous, and more +than a trifle curious. So she pressed her cheek against the window-glass +and looked forward. + +What she saw caused her to draw back again, her curiosity satisfied. For +on the side of the cut near the engine, she had seen a man with a +rifle--a masked man, tall and rough-looking--and it seemed to her that +the weapon in his hands was menacing someone in the engine-cab. + +She stiffened, looking quickly around the car. None of the passengers +had moved. Carrington and Parsons were still sitting together in the +seat. They were sitting erect, though, and she saw they, too, were +curious. More, she saw that both men were pale, and that Carrington, the +instant she turned, became active--bending over, apparently trying to +hide something under a seat. That movement on Carrington's part was +convincing, and the girl drew a deep breath. + +While she was debating the wisdom of permitting her curiosity to drive +her to the door nearest her to determine what had happened, the door +burst open and a masked man appeared in the opening! + +While she stared at him, he uttered the short, terse command: + +"Hands up!" + +She supposed that meant her, as well as the men in the car, and she +complied, though with a resentful glare at the mask. + +Daringly she turned her head and glanced back. Carrington had his hands +up, too; and Parsons--and the tourist, and the other man. She did not +see Taylor--though she wondered, on the instant, if he, too, would obey +the train-robber's command. + +She decided he would--any other course would have been foolhardy; though +she could not help remembering that queer gleam in Taylor's eyes. That +gleam, it had seemed to her, was a reflection of--not foolhardiness, but +of sheer courage. + +However, she had little time to speculate. The masked man advanced, a +heavy gun in his right hand, its muzzle moving from side to side, +menacing them all. + +He halted when he had advanced to within a step of the girl. + +"You guys set tight!" he ordered gruffly--in the manner of the +train-robber of romance. "If you go to lettin' down your sky-hooks one +little quiver, I bore you so fast an' plenty that you'll think you're a +colander!" Then he turned the mask toward the girl; she could feel his +eyes burning through it. + +"Shell out, lady!" he commanded. + +She stared straight back at the eye-slits in the mask, defiance glinting +her own eyes. + +"I haven't any money--or anything of value--to give you," she returned. + +"You've got a pocketbook there--in your hand!" he said. "Fork it over!" +He removed his hat, held it in his left hand, and extended it toward +her. "Toss it in there!" + +Hesitatingly, she obeyed, though not without a vindictive satisfaction +in knowing that he would find little in the purse to compensate him for +his trouble. She could see his eyes gleam greedily as he still looked at +her. + +"Now that chain an' locket you've got around your neck!" he ordered. +"Quick!" he added, savagely, as she stiffened and glared at him. + +She did as she was bidden, though; for she had no doubt he would kill +her--at least his manner indicated he would. And so she removed it, held +it lingering in her hand for an instant, and then tossed it into the +hat. She gulped as she did so, for the trinket had been given to her by +her father before he left home to go on that pilgrimage from which he +had never returned. + +"That's all, eh?" snarled the man. "Well, I ain't swallowin' that! I'm +goin' to search you!" + +She believed she must have screamed at that. She knew she stood up, +prepared to fight him if he attempted to carry out his threat; and once +on her feet she looked backward. + +Neither Carrington nor Parsons had moved--they were palely silent, +watching, not offering to interfere. As for that, she knew that any sign +of interference on the part of her friends would result in their instant +death. But she did not know what they _should_ do! Something must be +done, for she could not permit the indignity the man threatened! + +Still looking backward, she saw Taylor standing at the end of the +car--where the partition of the smoking-compartment extended outward. He +held a gun in each hand. He had heard her scream, and on his face as the +girl turned toward him, she saw a mirthless grin that made her shiver. +She believed it must have been her gasp that caused the train-robber to +look swiftly at Taylor. + +Whatever had caused the man to look toward the rear of the car, he saw +Taylor; and the girl saw him stiffen as his pistol roared in her ears. +Taylor's pistols crashed at the same instant--twice--the reports almost +together. Afterward she could not have told what surprised her the +most--seeing the man at her side drop his pistol and lurch limply +against a corner of the seat opposite her, and from there slide gently +to the floor, grunting; or the spectacle of Taylor, arrayed in cowboy +garb, emerging from the door of the smoking-compartment, the mirthless +smile on his face, and his guns--he had used both--blazing forth death +to the man who had threatened her. + +Nor could she--afterward--have related what followed the sudden +termination of the incident in the car. Salient memories stood out--the +vivid and tragic recollection of chief incidents that occurred +immediately; but she could not have even guessed how they happened. + +She saw Taylor as he stood for an instant looking down at the man after +he came running forward to where the other lay; and she saw Taylor leap +for the front door of the car, vanish through it, and slam it after him. + +For an instant after that there was silence, during which she shuddered +as she tried to keep her gaze from the thing that lay doubled oddly in +the aisle. + +And then she heard more shooting. It came from the direction of the +engine--the staccato crashing of pistols; the shouts of men, their +voices raised in anger. + +Pressing her cheek against the window-pane, and looking forward toward +the engine, she saw Taylor. With a gun in each hand, he was running down +the little level between the track and the steep wall of the cut, toward +her. She noted that his face still wore the mirthless grin that had been +on it when he shot the train-robber in the car; though his eyes were +alight with the lust of battle--that was all too plain--and she +shivered. For Taylor, having killed one man, and grimly pursuing others, +seemed to suggest the spirit of this grim, rugged country--the threat of +death that seemed to linger on every hand. + +She saw him snap a shot as he ran, bending far over to send the bullet +under the car; she heard a pistol crash from the other side of the car; +and then she saw Taylor go to his knees. + +She gasped with horror and held to the window-sill, for she feared +Taylor had been killed. But almost instantly she saw her error, for +Taylor was on his hands and knees crawling when she could again +concentrate her gaze; and she knew he was crawling under the car to +catch the man who had shot from the other side. + +Then Taylor disappeared, and she did not see him for a time. She heard +shots, though; many of them; and then, after a great while, a silence. +And during the silence she sat very still, her face white and her lips +stiff, waiting. + +The silence seemed to endure for an age; and then it was broken by the +sound of voices, the opening of the door of the car, and the appearance +of Taylor and some other men--several members of the train-crew; the +express-messenger; the engineer, his right arm hanging limply--and two +men, preceding the others, their hands bound, their faces sullen. + +On Taylor's face was the grin that had been on it all along. The girl +wondered at the man's marvelous self-control--for certainly during those +moments of excitement and danger he must have been aware of the terrible +risk he had been running. And then the thought struck her--she had not +considered that phase of the situation before--that she _must_ have +screamed; that he had heard her, and had emerged from the smoking-room +to protect her. She blushed, gratitude and a riot of other emotions +overwhelming her, so that she leaned weakly back in the seat, succumbing +to the inevitable reaction. + +She did not look at Taylor again; she did not even see him as he walked +toward the rear of the car, followed by the train-crew, and preceded by +the two train-robbers he had captured. + +But as the train-crew passed her, she heard one of them say: + +"That guy's a whirlwind with a gun! Didn't do no hesitatin', did he?" + +And again: + +"Now, what do you suppose would make a guy jump in that way an' run a +chance of gettin' plugged--plenty? Do you reckon he was just yearnin' +fer trouble, or do you reckon they was somethin' else behind it?" + +The girl might have answered, but she did not. She sat very still, +comparing Carrington with this man who had plunged instantly into a +desperate gun-fight to protect her. And she knew that Carrington would +not have done as Taylor had done. And had Carrington seen her face just +at that moment he would have understood that there was no possibility of +him ever achieving the success of which he had dreamed. + +She heard one of the men say that the two men were to be placed in the +baggage-car until they reached Dawes; and then Carrington and Parsons +came to where she sat. + +They talked, but the girl did not hear them, for her thoughts were on +the picture Taylor made when he appeared at the door of the +smoking-compartment arrayed in his cowboy rigging, the grim smile on his +face, his guns flaming death to the man who thought to take advantage of +her helplessness. + + + + +CHAPTER V--THE UNEXPECTED + + +The train pulled out again presently, and the water-tank and the cut +were rapidly left in the rear. Taylor returned to the smoking-room and +resumed his seat, and while the girl looked out of the window, some men +of the train-crew removed the body of the train-robber and obliterated +all traces of the fight. And Carrington and Parsons, noting the girl's +abstractedness, again left her to herself. + +It had been the girl's first glimpse of a man in cowboy raiment, and, as +she reflected, she knew she might have known Taylor was an unusual man. +However, she knew it now. + +Cursory glances at drawings she had seen made her familiar with the +type, but the cowboys of those drawings had been magnificently arrayed +in leather _chaparajos_, usually fringed with spangles; and with +long-roweled spurs; magnificent wide brims--also bespangled, and various +other articles of personal adornment, bewildering and awe inspiring. + +But this man, though undoubtedly a cow-puncher, was minus the +magnificent raiment of the drawings. And, paradoxical as it may seem, +the absence of any magnificent trappings made _him_ seem magnificent. + +But she was not so sure that it was the lack of those things that gave +her that impression. He did not _bulge_ in his cowboy clothing; it +fitted him perfectly. She was sure it was he who gave magnificence to +the clothing. Anyway, she was certain he was magnificent, and her eyes +glowed. She knew, now that she had seen him in clothing to which he was +accustomed, and which he knew how to wear, that she would have been more +interested in him yesterday had he appeared before her arrayed as he was +at this moment. + +He had shown himself capable, self-reliant, confident. She would have +given him her entire admiration had it not been for the knowledge that +she had caught him eavesdropping. That action had almost damned him in +her estimation--it would have completely and irrevocably condemned him +had it not been for her recollection of the stern, almost savage +interest she had seen in his eyes while he had been listening to +Carrington and Parsons. + +She knew because of that expression that Carrington and Parsons had been +discussing something in which he took a personal interest. She had not +said so much to Carrington, but her instinct told her, warned her, gave +her a presentiment of impending trouble. That was what she had meant +when she had told Carrington she had seen _fighting_ in Taylor's eyes. + +Taylor confined himself to the smoking-compartment. The negro porter, +with pleasing memories of generous tips and a grimmer memory to exact +his worship, hung around him, eager to serve him, and to engage him in +conversation; once he grinningly mentioned the incident of the cast-off +clothing of the night before. + +"I ain't mentionin' it, boss--not at all! I ain't givin' you them duds +till you ast for them. You done took me by s'prise, boss--you shuah did. +I might' near caved when you shoved that gun under ma nose--I shuah did, +boss. I don't want to have nothin' to do with your gun, boss--I shuah +don't. She'd go 'pop,' an' I wouldn't be heah no more! + +"I didn't reco'nize you in them heathen clo's you had on yesterday, +boss; but I minds you with them duds on. I knows you; you're 'Squint' +Taylor, of Dawes. I've seen you on that big black hoss of yourn, a +prancin' an' a prancin' through town--more'n once I've seen you. But I +didn't know you in them heathen clo's yesterday, boss--'deed I didn't!" + +Later the porter slipped into the compartment. For a minute or two he +fussed around the room, setting things to order, meanwhile chuckling to +himself. Occasionally he would cease his activities long enough to slap +a knee with the palm of a hand, with which movement he would seem to be +convulsed with merriment, and then he would resume work, chuckling +audibly. + +For a time Taylor took no notice of his antics, but they assailed his +consciousness presently, and finally he asked: + +"What's eating you, George?" + +The query was evidently just what "George" had been waiting for. For now +he turned and looked at Taylor, his face solemn, but a white gleam of +mirth in his eyes belying the solemnity. + +"Tips is comin' easy for George this mornin'," he said; "they shuah is. +No trouble at all. If a man wants to get tips all he has to be is a +dictionary--he, he, he!" + +"So you're a dictionary, eh? Well, explain the meaning of this." And he +tossed a silver dollar to the other. + +The dollar in hand, George tilted his head sidewise at Taylor. + +"How on earth you know I got somethin' to tell you?" + +"How do I know I've got two hands?" + +"By lookin' at them, boss." + +"Well, that's how I know you've got something to tell me--by looking at +you." + +The porter chuckled. "I reckon it's worth a dollar to have a young lady +interested in you," he told himself in a confidential voice, without +looking at Taylor; "yassir, it's sure worth a dollar." He slapped his +knee delightedly. "That young lady a heap interested in you, 'pears +like. While ago she pens me in a corner of the platform. 'Porter, who's +that man in the smoking-compartment--that cowboy? What's his name, an' +where does he live?' I hesitates, 'cause I didn't want to betray no +secrets--an' scratch my haid. Then she pop half a dollar in my hand, an' +I tole her you are Squint Taylor, an' that you own the Arrow ranch, not +far from Dawes. An' she thank me an' go away, grinnin'." + +"And the young lady, George; do you know her name?" + +"Them men she's travelin' with calls her Marion, boss." + +He peered intently at Taylor for signs of interest. He saw no such +signs, and after a while, noting that Taylor seemed preoccupied, and was +evidently no longer aware of his presence, he slipped out noiselessly. + +At nine thirty, Taylor, looking out of the car window, noted that the +country was growing familiar. Fifteen minutes later the porter stuck his +head in between the curtains, saw that Taylor was still absorbed, and +withdrew. At nine fifty-five the porter entered the compartment. + +"We'll be in Dawes in five minutes, boss," he said. "I've toted your +baggage to the door." + +The porter withdrew, and a little later Taylor got up and went out into +the aisle. At the far end of the car, near the door, he saw Marion +Harlan, Parsons, and Carrington. + +He did not want to meet them again after what had occurred in the diner, +and he cast a glance toward the door behind him, hoping that the porter +had carried his baggage to that end of the car. But the platform was +empty--his suitcase was at the other end. + +He slipped into a seat on the side of the train that would presently +disclose to him a view of Dawes's depot, and of Dawes itself, leaned an +elbow on the window-sill, and waited. Apparently the three persons at +the other end of the car paid no attention to him, but glancing sidelong +once he saw the girl throw an interested glance at him. + +And then the air-brakes hissed; he felt the train slowing down, and he +got up and walked slowly toward the girl and her companions. At about +the same instant she and the others began to move toward the door; so +that when the train came to a stop they were on the car platform by the +time Taylor reached the door. And by the time he stepped out upon the +car platform the girl and her friends were on the station platform, +their baggage piled at their feet. + +Dawes's depot was merely a roofless platform; and there was no shelter +from the glaring white sun that flooded it. The change from the subdued +light of the coach to the shimmering, blinding glare of the sun on the +wooden planks of the platform affected Taylor's eyes, and he was forced +to look downward as he alighted. And then, not looking up, he went to +the baggage-car and pulled his two prisoners out. + +Looking up as he walked down the platform with the two men, he saw a +transformed Dawes. + +The little, frame station building had been a red, dingy blot beside the +glistening rails that paralleled the town. It was now gaily draped with +bunting--red, white, and blue--which he recognized as having been used +on the occasion of the town's anniversary celebration. + +A big American flag topped the ridge of the station; other flags +projected from various angles of the frame. + +Most of the town's other buildings were replicas of the station in the +matter of decorations--festoons of bunting ran here and there from +building to building; broad bands of it were stretched across the fronts +of other buildings; gay loops of it crossed the street, suspended to +form triumphal arches; flags, wreaths of laurel, Japanese lanterns, and +other paraphernalia of the decorator's art were everywhere. + +Down the street near the Castle Hotel, Taylor saw transparencies, but he +could not make out the words on them. + +He grinned, for certainly the victor of yesterday's election was +outdoing himself. + +He looked into the face of a man who stood near him on the platform--who +answered his grin. + +"Our new mayor is celebrating in style, eh?" he said. + +"Right!" declared the man. + +He was about to ask the man which candidate had been victorious--though +he was certain it was Neil Norton--when he saw Marion Harlan, standing a +little distance from him, smiling at him. + +It was a broad, impersonal smile, such as one citizen of a town might +exchange with another when both are confronted with the visible +evidences of political victory; and Taylor responded to it with one +equally impersonal. Whereat the girl's smile faded, and her gaze, still +upon Taylor, became speculative. Its quality told Taylor that he should +not presume upon the smile. + +Taylor had no intention of presuming anything. Not even the porter's +story of the girl's interest in him had affected him to the extent of +fatuous imaginings. A woman's curiosity, he supposed, had led her to +inquire about him. He expected she rarely saw men arrayed as he was--and +as he had been arrayed the day before. + +The girl's gaze went from Taylor to the street in the immediate vicinity +of the station, and for the first time since alighting on the platform +Taylor saw a mass of people near him. + +Looking sharply at them, he saw many faces in the mass that he knew. +They all seemed to be looking at him and, with the suddenness of a +stroke came to him the consciousness that there was no sound--that +silence, deep and unusual, reigned in Dawes. The train, usually merely +stopping at the station and then resuming its trip, was still standing +motionless behind him. With a sidelong glance he saw the train-crew +standing near the steps of the cars, looking at him. The porter and the +waiter with whose faces he was familiar, were grinning at him. + +Taylor felt that his own grin, as he gazed around at the faces that were +all turned toward him, was vacuous and foolish. He _felt_ foolish. For +he knew something had attracted the attention of all these people to +him, and he had not the slightest idea what it was. For an instant he +feared that through some mental lapse he had forgotten to remove his +"dude" clothing; and he looked down at his trousers and felt of his +shirt, to reassure himself. And he gravely and intently looked at his +prisoners, wondering if by any chance some practical joker of the town +had arranged the train robbery for his special benefit. If that were the +explanation it had been grim hoax--for two men had been killed in the +fight. + +Looking up again, he saw that the grins on the faces of the people +around him had grown broader--and several loud guffaws of laughter +reached his ears. He looked at Marion Harlan, and saw a puzzled +expression on her face. Carrington, too, was looking at him, and +Parsons, whose smile was a smirk of perplexity. + +Taylor reddened with embarrassment. A resentment that grew swiftly to an +angry intolerance, seized him. He straightened, squared his shoulders, +thrust out his chin, and shoving his prisoners before him, took several +long strides across the station platform. + +This movement brought him close to Marion Harlan and her friends, and +his further progress was barred by a man who placed a hand against his +chest. + +This man, too, was grinning. He seized Taylor's shoulders with both +hands and looked into his face, the grin on his own broad and expanding. + +"Welcome home--you old son-of-a-gun!" said the man. + +His grin was infectious and Taylor answered it, dropping his suitcase +and looking the other straight in the eyes. + +"Norton," he said, "what in hell is the cause of all this staring at me? +Can't a man leave town for a few days and come back without everybody +looking at him as though he were a curiosity?" + +Norton--a tall, slender, sinewy man with broad shoulders--laughed aloud +and deliberately winked at several interested citizens who had followed +Taylor's progress across the platform, and who now stood near him, +grinning. + +"You are a curiosity, man. You're the first mayor of this man's town! +Lordy," he said to the surrounding faces, "he hasn't tumbled to it yet!" + +The color left Taylor's face; he stared hard at Norton; he gazed in +bewilderment at the faces near him. + +"Mayor?" he said. "Why, good Lord, man, I wasn't here yesterday!" + +"But your friends were!" yelped the delighted Norton. He raised his +voice, so that it reached far into the crowd on the street: + +"He's sort of fussed up, boys; this honor being conferred on him so +sudden; but give him time and he'll talk your heads off!" He leaned over +to Taylor and whispered in his ear. + +"Grin, man, for God's sake! Don't stand there like a wooden man; they'll +think you don't appreciate it! It's the first time I ever saw you lose +your nerve. Buck up, man; why, they simply swamped Danforth; wiped him +clean off the map!" + +Norton was whispering more into Taylor's ear, but Taylor could not +follow the sequence of it, nor get a coherent meaning out of it. He even +doubted that he heard Norton. He straightened, and looked around at the +crowd that now was pressing in on him, and for the first time in his +life he knew the mental panic and the physical sickness that overtakes +the man who for the first time faces an audience whose eyes are focused +on him. + +For a bag of gold as big as the mountains that loomed over the distant +southern horizon he could not have said a word to the crowd. But he did +succeed in grinning at the faces around him, and at that the crowd +yelled. + +And just before the crowd closed in on him and he began to shake hands +with his delighted supporters, he glanced at Marion Harlan. She was +looking at him with a certain sober interest, though he was sure that +back in her eyes was a sort of humorous malice--which had, however, a +softening quality of admiration and, perhaps, gratitude. + +His gaze went from her to Carrington. The big man was watching him with +a veiled sneer which, when he met Taylor's eyes, grew open and +unmistakable. + +Taylor grinned broadly at him, for now it occurred to him that he would +be able to thwart Carrington's designs of "getting hold of the reins." +His grin at Carrington was a silent challenge, and so the other +interpreted it, for his sneer grew positively venomous. + +The girl caught the exchange of glances between them, for Taylor heard +her say to Parsons, just before the noise of the crowd drowned her +voice: + +"Now I _know_ he overheard you!" + +Meanwhile, the two prisoners were standing near Taylor. Taylor had +almost forgotten them. He was reminded of their presence when he saw +Keats, the sheriff, standing near him. At just the instant Taylor looked +at Keats, the latter was critically watching the prisoners. + +Keats and Taylor had had many differences of opinion, for the sheriff's +official actions had not merited nor received Taylor's approval. +Taylor's attitude toward the man had always been that of good-natured +banter, despite the disgust he felt for the man. And now, pursuing his +customary attitude, Taylor called to him: + +"Specimens, eh! Picked them up at Toban's this morning. They yearned to +hold up the train. There were four, all together, but we had to put two +out of business. I came pretty near forgetting them. If I hadn't seen +you just now, maybe I would have walked right off and left them here. +Take them to jail, Keats." + +Keats advanced. He met Taylor's eyes and his lips curved with a sneer: + +"Pullin' off a little grand-stand play, eh! Well, it's a mighty clever +idea. First you get elected mayor, an' then you come in here, draggin' +along a couple of mean-lookin' hombres, an' say they've tried to hold up +the train at Toban's. It sounds mighty fishy to me!" + +Taylor laughed. He heard a chuckle behind him, and he turned, to see +Carrington grinning significantly at Keats. Taylor's eyes chilled as his +gaze went from one man to the other, for the exchange of glances told +him that between the men there was a common interest, which would link +them together against him. And in the dead silence that followed Keats's +words, Taylor drawled, grinning coldly: + +"Meaning that I'm a liar, Keats?" + +His voice was gentle, and his shoulders seemed to droop a little as +though in his mind was a desire to placate Keats. But there were men in +Dawes who had seen Taylor work his guns, and these held their breath and +began to shove backward. That slow, drooping of Taylor's shoulders was a +danger signal, a silent warning that Taylor was ready for action, swift +and violent. + +And faces around Taylor whitened as the man stood there facing Keats, +his shoulders drooping still lower, the smile on his face becoming one +of cold, grim mockery. + +The discomfiture of Keats was apparent. Indecision and fear were in the +set of his head--bowed a little; and a dread reluctance was in his +shifting eyes and the pasty-white color of his face. It was plain that +Keats had overplayed; he had not intended to arouse the latent tiger in +Taylor; he had meant merely to embarrass him. + +"Meaning that I'm a liar, Keats?" + +Again Taylor's voice was gentle, though this time it carried a subtle +taunt. + +Desperately harried, Keats licked his hot lips and cast a sullen glance +around at the crowd. Then his gaze went to Taylor's face, and he drew a +slow breath. + +"I reckon I wasn't meanin' just that," he said. + +"Of course," smiled Taylor; "that's no way for a sheriff to act. Take +them in, Keats," he added, waving a hand at the prisoners; "it's been so +long since the sheriff of this county arrested a man that the jail's +gettin' tired, yawning for somebody to get into it." + +He turned his back on Keats and looked straight at Carrington: + +"Have you got any ideas along the sheriff's line?" he asked. + +Carrington flushed and his lips went into a sullen pout. He did not +speak, merely shaking his head, negatively. + +Keats's glance at Taylor was malignant with hate; and Carrington's +sullen, venomous look was not unnoticed by the crowd. Keats stepped +forward and seized the two prisoners, hustling them away, muttering +profanely. + +And then Taylor was led away by Norton and a committee of citizens, +leaving Carrington, the girl and Parsons alone on the platform. + +"Looks like we're going to have trouble lining things up," remarked +Parsons. "Danforth----" + +"You shut up!" snapped Carrington. "Danforth's an ass and so are you!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI--A MAN MAKES PLANS + + +Within an hour after his arrival in Dawes, Carrington was sitting in the +big front room of his suite in the Castle Hotel, inspecting the town. + +A bay window projected over the sidewalk, and from a big leather chair +placed almost in the center of the bay between two windows and facing a +third, at the front, Carrington had a remarkably good view of the town. + +Dawes was a thriving center of activity, with reasons for its +prosperity. Walking toward the Castle from the railroad station, +Carrington had caught a glimpse of the big dam blocking the constricted +neck of a wide basin west of the town--and farther westward stretched a +vast agricultural section, level as a floor, with a carpet of green +slumbering in the white sunlight, and dotted with young trees that +seemed almost ready to bear. + +There were many small buildings on the big level, some tenthouses, and +straight through the level was a wide, sparkling stream of water, with +other and smaller streams intersecting it. These streams were irrigation +ditches, and the moisture in them was giving life to a vast section of +country that had previously been arid and dead. + +But Carrington's interest had not been so much for the land as for the +method of irrigation. To be sure, he had not stopped long to look, but +he had comprehended the system at a glance. There were locks and flumes +and water-gates, and plenty of water. But the irrigation company had not +completed its system. Carrington intended to complete it. + +Dawes was two years old, and it had the appearance of having been +hastily constructed. Its buildings were mostly of frame--even the +Castle, large and pretentious, and the town's aristocrat of hostelries, +was of frame. Carrington smiled, for later, when he had got himself +established, he intended to introduce an innovation in building +material. + +The courthouse was a frame structure. It was directly across the street +from the Castle, and Carrington could look into its windows and see some +men at work inside at desks. He had no interest in the post office, for +that was of the national government--and yet, perhaps, after a while he +might take some interest in that. + +For Carrington's vision, though selfish, was broad. A multitude of men +of the Carrington type have taken bold positions in the eternal battle +for progress, and all have contributed something toward the ultimate +ideal. And not all have been scoundrels. + +Carrington's vision, however, was blurred by the mote of greed. Dawes +was flourishing; he intended to modernize it, but in the process of +modernization he intended to be the chief recipient of the material +profits. + +Carrington had washed, shaved himself, and changed his clothes; and as +he sat in the big leather chair in the bay, overlooking the street, he +looked smooth, sleek, and capable. + +He had seemed massive in the Pullman, wearing a traveling suit of some +light material, and his corpulent waist-line had been somewhat +accentuated. + +The blue serge suit he wore now made a startling change in his +appearance. It made his shoulders seem broader; it made the wide, +swelling arch of his chest more pronounced, and in inverse ratio it +contracted the corpulent waist-line--almost eliminating it. + +Carrington looked to be what he was--a big, virile, magnetic giant of a +man in perfect health. + +He had not been sitting in the leather chair for more than fifteen +minutes when there came a knock on a door behind him. + +"Come!" he commanded. + +A tall man entered, closed the door behind him and with hat in hand +stood looking at Carrington with a half-smile which might have been +slightly diffident, or impudent or defiant--it was puzzling. + +Carrington had twisted in his chair to get a glimpse of his visitor; he +now grunted, resumed his former position and said, gruffly: + +"Hello, Danforth!" + +Danforth stepped over to the bay, and without invitation drew up a chair +and seated himself near Carrington. + +Danforth was slender, big-framed, and sinewy. His shoulders were broad +and his waist slim. There was a stubborn thrust to his chin; his nose +was a trifle too long to perfectly fit his face; his mouth a little too +big, and the lips too thin. The nose had a slight droop that made one +think of selfishness and greed, and the thin lips, with a downward +swerve at the corners, suggested cruelty. + +These defects, however, were not prominent, for they were offset by a +really distinguished head with a mass of short, curly hair that ruffled +attractively under the brim of the felt hat he wore. + +The hat was in his right hand, now, but it had left its impress on his +hair, and as he sat down he ran his free hand through it. Danforth knew +where his attractions were. + +He grinned shallowly at Carrington when the latter turned and looked at +him. + +He cleared his throat. "I suppose you've heard about it?" + +"I couldn't help hearing." Carrington scowled at the other. "What in +hell was wrong? We send you out here, give you more than a year's time +and all the money you want--which has been plenty--and then you lose. +What in the devil was the matter?" + +"Too much Taylor," smirked the other. + +"But what else?" + +"Nothing else--just Taylor." + +Carrington exclaimed profanely. + +"Why, the man didn't even know he was a candidate! He was on the train I +came in on!" + +"It was Neil Norton's scheme," explained Danforth. "I had _him_ beaten +to a frazzle. I suppose he knew it. Two days before election he suddenly +withdrew his name and substituted Taylor's. You know what happened. He +licked me two to one. He was too popular for me--damn him! + +"Norton owns a newspaper here--the only one in the county--the _Eagle_." + +"Why didn't you buy him?" + +Danforth grinned sarcastically: "I didn't feel that reckless." + +"Honest, eh?" + +Carrington rested his chin in the palm of his right hand and scowled +into the street. He was convinced that Danforth had done everything he +could to win the election, and he was bitterly chagrined over the +result. But that result was not the dominating thought in his mind. He +kept seeing Taylor as the latter had stood on the station platform, +stunned with surprise over the knowledge that he had been so signally +honored by the people of Dawes. + +And Carrington had seen Marion Harlan's glances at the man; he had been +aware of the admiring smile she had given Taylor; and bitter passion +gripped Carrington at the recollection of the smile. + +More--he had seen Taylor's face when the girl had smiled. The smile had +thrilled Taylor--it had held promise for him, and Carrington knew it. + +Carrington continued to stare out into the street. Danforth watched him +furtively, in silence. + +At last, not opening his lips, Carrington spoke: + +"Tell me about this man, Taylor." + +"Taylor owns the Arrow ranch, in the basin south of here. His ranch +covers about twenty thousand acres. He has a clear title. + +"According to report, he employs about thirty men. They are holy +terrors--that is, they are what is called 'hard cases,' though they are +not outlaws by any means. Just a devil-may-care bunch that raises hell +when it strikes town. They swear by Taylor." + +So far as Carrington could see, everybody in Dawes swore by Taylor. +Carrington grimaced. + +"That isn't what I want to know," he flared. "How long has he been here; +what kind of a fellow is he?" + +"Taylor owned the Arrow before Dawes was founded. When the railroad came +through it brought with it some land-sharks that tried to frame up on +the ranch-owners in the vicinity. It was a slick scheme, they tell me. +They had clouded every title, and figured to grab the whole county, it +seems. + +"Taylor went after them. People I've talked with here say it was a dandy +shindy while it lasted. The land-grabbers brought the courts in, and a +crooked judge. Taylor fought them, crooked judge and all, to a +bite-the-dust finish. Toward the end it was a free-for-all--and the +land-grabbers were chased out of the county. + +"Naturally, the folks around here think a lot of Taylor for the part he +played in the deal. Besides that, he's a man that makes friends +quickly--and holds them." + +"Has Taylor any interests besides his ranch?" + +"A share in the water company, I believe. He owns some land in town; and +he is usually on all the public committees here." + +"About thirty, isn't he?" + +"Twenty-eight." + +Carrington looked at the other with a sidelong, sneering grin: + +"Have any ladies come into his young life?" + +Danforth snickered. "You've got me--I hadn't inquired. He doesn't seem +to be much of a ladies' man, though, I take it. Doesn't seem to have +time to monkey with them." + +"H-m!" Carrington's lips went into a pout as he stared straight ahead of +him. + +Danforth at last broke a long silence with: + +"Well, we got licked, all right. What's going to happen now? Are you +going to quit?" + +"Quit?" Carrington snapped the word at the other, his eyes flaming with +rage. Then he laughed, mirthlessly, resuming: "This defeat was +unexpected; I wasn't set for it. But it won't alter things--very much. +I'll have to shake a leg, that's all. What time does the next train +leave here for the capital?" + +"At two o'clock this afternoon." Danforth's eyes widened as he looked at +Carrington. The curiosity in his glance caused Carrington to laugh +shortly. + +"You don't mean that the governor is in this thing?" said Danforth. + +"Why not?" demanded Carrington. "Bah! Do you think I came in with my +eyes closed!" + +There was a new light in Danforth's eyes--the flame of renewed hope. + +"Then we've still got a chance," he declared. + +Carrington laughed. "A too-popular mayor is not a good thing for a +town," he said significantly. + + + + +CHAPTER VII--THE SHADOW OF THE PAST + + +Marion Harlan and her uncle, Elam Parsons, did not accompany Carrington +to the Castle Hotel. By telegraph, through Danforth, Carrington had +bought a house near Dawes, and shortly after Quinton Taylor left the +station platform accompanied by his friends and admirers, Marion and her +uncle were in a buckboard riding toward the place that, henceforth, was +to be their home. + +For that question had been settled before the party left Westwood. +Parsons had declared his future activities were to be centered in Dawes, +that he had no further interests to keep him in Westwood, and that he +intended to make his home in Dawes. + +Certainly Marion had few interests in the town that had been the scene +of the domestic tragedy that had left her parentless. She was glad to +get away. For though she had not been to blame for what had happened, +she was painfully conscious of the stares that followed her everywhere, +and aware of the morbid curiosity with which her neighbors regarded her. +Also--through the medium of certain of her "friends," she had become +cognizant of speculative whisperings, such as: "To think of being +brought up like that? Do you think she will be like her mother?" +Or--"What's bred in the bone, _et cetera_." + +Perhaps these good people did not mean to be unkind; certainly the +crimson stains that colored the girl's cheeks when she passed them +should have won their charity and their silence. + +There was nothing in Westwood for her; and so she was glad to get away. +And the trip westward toward Dawes opened a new vista of life to her. +She was leaving the old and the tragic and adventuring into the new and +promising, where she could face life without the onus of a shame that +had not been hers. + +Before she was half way to Dawes she had forgotten Westwood and its +wagging tongues. She alone, of all the passengers in the Pullman, had +not been aware of the heat and the discomfort. She had loved every foot +of the great prairie land that, green and beautiful, had flashed past +the car window; she had gazed with eager, interested eyes into the far +reaches of the desert through which she had passed, filling her soul +with the mystic beauty of this new world, reveling in its vastness and +in the atmosphere of calm that seemed to engulf it. + +Dawes had not disappointed her; on the contrary, she loved it at first +sight. For though Dawes was new and crude, it looked rugged and +honest--and rather too busy to hesitate for the purpose of indulging in +gossip--idle or otherwise. Dawes, she was certain, was occupying itself +with progress--a thing that, long since, Westwood had forgotten. + +Five minutes after she had entered the buckboard, the spirit of this new +world had seized upon the girl and she was athrob and atingle with the +joy of it. It filled her veins; it made her cheeks flame and her eyes +dance. And the strange aroma--the pungent breath of the sage, borne to +her on the slight breeze--she drew into her lungs with great long +breaths that seemed to intoxicate her. + +"Oh," she exclaimed delightedly, "isn't it great! Oh, I love it!" + +Elam Parsons grinned at her--the habitual smirk with which he recognized +all emotion not his own. + +"It _does_ look like a good field for business," he conceded. + +The girl looked at him quickly, divined the sordidness of his thoughts, +and puckered her brows in a frown. And thereafter she enjoyed the +esthetic beauties of her world without seeking confirmation from her +uncle. + +Her delight grew as the journey to the new home progressed. She saw the +fertile farming country stretching far in the big section of country +beyond the water-filled basin; her eyes glowed as the irrigation +ditches, with their locks and gates, came under her observation; and she +sat silent, awed by the mightiness of it all--the tall, majestic +mountains looming somberly many miles distant behind a glowing +mist--like a rose veil or a gauze curtain lowered to partly conceal the +mystic beauty of them. + +Intervening were hills and flats and draws and valleys, and miles and +miles of level grass land, green and peaceful in the shimmering sunlight +that came from somewhere near the center of the big, pale-blue inverted +bowl of sky; she caught the silvery glitter of a river that wound its +way through the country like a monstrous serpent; she saw dark blotches, +miles long, which she knew were forests, for she could see the spires of +trees thrusting upward. But from where she rode the trees seemed to be +no larger than bushes. + +Looking backward, she could see Dawes. Already the buckboard had +traveled two or three miles, but the town seemed near, and she had quite +a shock when she looked back at it and saw the buildings, mere huddled +shanties, spoiling the beauty of her picture. + +A mile or so farther--four miles altogether, Parsons told her--and they +came in sight of a house. She had difficulty restraining her delight +when they climbed out of the buckboard and Parsons told her the place +was to be their permanent home. For it was such a house as she had +longed to live in all the days of her life. + +The first impression it gave her was that of spaciousness. For though +only one story in height, the house contained many rooms. Those, +however, she saw later. + +The exterior was what intrigued her interest at first glance. So far as +she knew, it was the only brick building in the country. She had seen +none such in Dawes. + +There was a big porch across the front; the windows were large; there +were vines and plants thriving in the shade from some big cottonwood +trees near by--in fact, the house seemed to have been built in a grove +of the giant trees; there were several outhouses, one of which had +chickens in an enclosure near it; there was a garden, well-kept; and the +girl saw that back of the house ran a little stream which flowed sharply +downward, later to tumble into the big basin far below the irrigation +dam. + +While Parsons was superintending the unloading of the buckboard, Marion +explored the house. It was completely furnished, and her eyes glowed +with pleasure as she inspected it. And when Parsons and the driver were +carrying the baggage in she was outside the house, standing at the edge +of a butte whose precipitous walls descended sharply to the floor of the +irrigation basin, two or three hundred feet below. She could no longer +see the cultivated level, with its irrigation ditches, but she could see +the big dam, a mile or so up the valley toward Dawes, with the water +creeping over it, and the big valley itself, slumbering in the pure, +white light of the morning. + +She went inside, slightly awed, and Parsons, noting her excitement, +smirked at her. She left him and went to her room. Emerging later she +discovered that Parsons was not in the house. She saw him, however, at a +distance, looking out into the valley. + +And then, in the kitchen, Marion came upon the housekeeper, a negro +woman of uncertain age. Parsons had not told her there was to be a +housekeeper. + +The negro woman grinned broadly at her astonishment. + +"Lawsey, ma'am; you jes' got to have a housekeeper, I reckon! How you +ever git along without a housekeeper? You're too fine an' dainty to keep +house you'self!" + +The woman's name, the latter told her, was Martha, and there was honest +delight--and, it seemed to Marion, downright relief in her eyes when she +looked at the new mistress. + +"You ain't got no 'past,' that's certain, honey," she declared, with a +delighted smile. "The woman that lived here befo' had a past, honey. A +man named Huggins lived in this house, an' she said she's his wife. +Wife! Lawsey! No man has a wife like that! She had a past, that woman, +an' mebbe a present, too--he, he, he! + +"He was the man what put the railroad through here, honey. I done hear +the woman say--her name was Blanche, honey--that Huggins was one of them +ultra rich. But whatever it was that ailed him, honey, didn't help his +looks none. Pig-eye, I used to call him, when I'se mad at him--which was +mostly all the time--he, he, he!" + +The girl's face whitened. Was she never to escape the atmosphere she +loathed? She shuddered and Martha patted her sympathetically on the +shoulder. + +"There, there, honey; you ain't 'sponsible for other folks' affairs. +Jes' you hold you' head up an' go about you' business. Nobody say +anything to you because you' livin' here." + +But Martha's words neither comforted nor consoled the girl. She went +again to her room and sat for a long time, looking out of a window. For +now all the cheer had gone out of the house; the rooms looked dull and +dreary--and empty, as of something gone out of them. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII--CONCERNING "SQUINT" + + +Marion Harlan had responded eagerly to Carrington's fabrication +regarding the rumor of Lawrence Harlan's presence in Dawes. Carrington's +reference to her father's sojourn in the town had been vague--he merely +told her that a rumor had reached him--a man's word, without +details--and she had accepted it at its face value. She was impatient to +run the rumor down, to personally satisfy herself, and she believed +Carrington. + +But she spent a fruitless week interrogating people in Dawes. She had +gone to the courthouse, there to pass long hours searching the +records--and had found nothing. Then, systematically, she had gone from +store to store--making small purchases and quizzing everyone she came in +contact with. None had known a man named Harlan; it seemed that not one +person in Dawes had ever heard of him. + +Parsons had returned to town in the buckboard shortly after noon on the +day of their arrival at the new house, and she had not seen him again +until the following morning. Then he had told her that Carrington had +gone away--he did not know where. Carrington would not return for a week +or two, he inferred. + +Parsons had bought some horses. A little bay, short-coupled but wiry, +belonged to her, Parsons said--it was a present from Carrington. + +She hesitated to accept the horse; but the little animal won her regard +by his affectionate mannerisms, and at the end of a day of doubt and +indecision she accepted him. + +She had ridden horses in Westwood--bareback when no one had been +looking, and with a side-saddle at other times--but she discovered no +side-saddle in Dawes. However, she did encounter no difficulty in +unearthing a riding-habit with a divided skirt, and though she got into +that with a pulse of trepidation and embarrassment, she soon discovered +it to be most comfortable and convenient. + +And Dawes did not stare at her because she rode "straddle." At first she +was fearful, and watched Dawes's citizens furtively; but when she saw +that she attracted no attention other than would be attracted by any +good-looking young woman in more conventional attire, she felt more at +ease. But she could not help thinking about the sanctimonious +inhabitants of Westwood. Would they not have declared their kindly +predictions vindicated had they been permitted to see her? She could +almost hear the chorus of "I-told-you-so's"--they rang in her ears over +a distance of many hundreds of miles! + +But the spirit of the young, unfettered country had got into her soul, +and she went her way unmindful of Westwood's opinions. + +For three days she continued her search for tidings of her father, eager +and hopeful; and then for the remainder of the week she did her +searching mechanically, doggedly, with a presentiment of failure to +harass her. + +And then one morning, when she was standing beside her horse near the +stable door, ready to mount and fully determined to pursue the +Carrington rumor to the end, the word she sought was brought to her. + +She saw a horseman coming toward her from the direction of Dawes. He was +not Parsons--for the rider was short and broad; and besides, Parsons was +spending most of his time in Dawes. + +The girl watched the rider, assured, as he came nearer, that he was a +stranger; and when he turned his horse toward her, and she saw he _was_ +a stranger, she leaned close and whispered to her own animal: + +"Oh, Billy; what if it _should_ be!" + +An instant later she was watching the stranger dismount within a few +feet of where she was standing. + +He was short and stocky, and undeniably Irish. He was far past middle +age, as his gray hair and seamed wrinkles of his face indicated; but +there was the light of a youthful spirit and good-nature in his eyes +that squinted at the girl with a quizzical interest. + +With the bridle-rein in the crook of his elbow and his hat in his hand, +he bowed elaborately to the girl. + +"Would ye be Miss Harlan, ma'am?" he asked. + +"Yes," she breathed, her face alight with eagerness, for now since the +man had spoken her name the presentiment of news grew stronger. + +The man's face flashed into a wide, delighted grin and he reached out a +hand, into which she placed one of hers, hardly knowing that she did it. + +"Me name's Ben Mullarky, ma'am. I've got a little shack down on the +Rabbit-Ear--which is a crick, for all the name some locoed ignoramus +give it. You c'ud see the shack from here, ma'am--if ye'd look sharp." + +He pointed out a spot to her--a wooded section far out in the big level +country southward, beside the river--and she saw the roof of a building +near the edge of the timber. + +"That's me shack," offered Mullarky. "Me ol' woman an' meself owns +her--an' a quarter-section--all proved. We call it seven miles from the +shack to Dawes. That'd make it about three from here." + +"Yes, yes," said the girl eagerly. + +He grinned at her. "Comin' in to town this mornin' for some knickknacks +for me ol' woman, I hear from Coleman--who keeps a store--that there's a +fine-lookin' girl named Harlan searchin' the country for news of her +father, Larry Harlan. I knowed him, ma'am." + +"You did? Oh, how wonderful!" She stood erect, breathing fast, her eyes +glowing with mingled joy and impatience. She had not caught the +significance of Mullarky's picturesque past tense, "knowed;" but when he +repeated it, with just a slight emphasis: + +"I _knowed_ him, ma'am," she drew a quick, full breath and her face +whitened. + +"You knew him," she said slowly. "Does that mean----" + +Mullarky scratched his head and looked downward, not meeting her eyes. + +"Squint Taylor would tell you the story, ma'am," he said. "You see, +ma'am, he worked for Squint, an' Squint was with him when it happened." + +"He's dead, then?" She stood rigid, tense, searching Mullarky's face +with wide, dreading eyes, and when she saw his gaze shift under hers she +drew a deep sigh and leaned against Billy, covering her face with her +hands. + +Mullarky did not attempt to disturb her; he stood, looking glumly at +her, reproaching himself for his awkwardness in breaking the news to +her. + +It was some minutes before she faced him again, and then she was pale +and composed, except for the haunting sadness that had come into her +eyes. + +"Thank you," she said. "Can you tell me where I can find Mr. +Taylor--'Squint,' you called him? Is that the Taylor who was elected +mayor--last week?" + +"The same, ma'am." He turned and pointed southward, into the big, level +country that she admired so much. + +"Do you see that big timber grove 'way off there--where the crick +doubles to the north--with that big green patch beyond?" She nodded. +"That's Taylor's ranch--the Arrow. You'll find him there. He's a mighty +fine man, ma'am. Larry Harlan would tell you that if he was here. Taylor +was the best friend that Larry Harlan ever had--out here." He looked at +her pityingly. "I'm sorry, ma'am, to be the bearer of ill news; but when +I heard you was in town, lookin' for your father, I couldn't help comin' +to see you." + +She asked some questions about her father--which Mullarky answered; +though he could tell her nothing that would acquaint her with the +details of her father's life between the time he had left Westwood and +the day of his appearance in this section of the world. + +"Mebbe Taylor will know, ma'am," he repeated again and again. And then, +when she thanked him once more and mounted her horse, he said: + +"You'll be goin' to see Squint right away, ma'am, I suppose. You can +ease your horse right down the slope, here, an' strike the level. You'll +find a trail right down there. You'll follow it along the crick, an' +it'll take you into the Arrow ranchhouse. It'll take you past me own +shack, too; an' if you'll stop in an' tell the ol' woman who you are, +she'll be tickled to give you a snack an' a cup of tea. She liked Larry +herself." + +The girl watched Mullarky ride away. He turned in the saddle, at +intervals, to grin at her. + +Then, when Mullarky had gone she leaned against Billy and stood for a +long time, her shoulders quivering. + +At last, though, she mounted the little animal and sent him down the +slope. + +She found the trail about which Mullarky had spoken, and rode it +steadily; though she saw little of the wild, virgin country through +which she passed, because her brimming eyes blurred it all. + +She came at last to Mullarky's shack, and a stout, motherly woman, with +an ample bosom and a kindly face, welcomed her. + +"So you're Larry Harlan's daughter," said Mrs. Mullarky, when her +insistence had brought the girl inside the cabin; "you poor darlin'. An' +Ben told you--the blunderin' idiot. He'll have a piece of my mind when +he comes back! An' you're stoppin' at the old Huggins house, eh?" She +looked sharply at the girl, and the latter's face reddened. Whereat Mrs. +Mullarky patted her shoulder and murmured: + +"It ain't your fault that there's indacint women in the world; an' no +taint of them will ever reach you. But the fools in this world is always +waggin' their tongues, associatin' what's happened with what they think +will happen. An' mebbe they'll wonder about you. It's your uncle that's +there with you, you say? Well, then, don't you worry. You run right +along to see Squint Taylor, now, an' find out what he knows about your +father. Taylor's a mighty fine man, darlin'." + +And so Marion went on her way again, grateful for Mrs. Mullarky's +kindness, but depressed over the knowledge that the atmosphere of +suspicion, which had enveloped her in Westwood, had followed her into +this new country which, she had hoped, would have been more friendly. + +She came in sight of the Arrow ranchhouse presently, and gazed at it +admiringly. It was a big building, of adobe brick, with a wide porch--or +gallery--entirely surrounding it. It was in the center of a big space, +with timber flanking it on three sides, and at the north was a green +stretch of level that reached to the sloping banks of a river. + +There were several smaller buildings; a big, fenced enclosure--the +corrals, she supposed; a pasture, and a garden. Everything was in +perfect order, and had it not been for the aroma of the sage that +assailed her nostrils, the awe-inspiring bigness of it all, the sight of +thousands of cattle--which she could see through the trees beyond the +clearing, she could have likened the place to a big eastern farmhouse of +the better class, isolated and prosperous. + +She dismounted from her horse at a corner of the house, near a door that +opened upon the wide porch, and stood, pale and hesitant, looking at the +door, which was closed. + +And as she stared at the door, it swung inward and Quinton Taylor +appeared in the opening. + + + + +CHAPTER IX--A MAN LIES + + +Taylor was arrayed as Marion had mentally pictured him that day when, in +the Pullman, she had associated him with ranches and ranges. Evidently +he was ready to ride, for leather chaps incased his legs. The chaps were +plain, not even adorned with the spangles of the drawings she had seen; +and they were well-worn and shiny in spots. A pair of big, Mexican spurs +were on the heels of his boots; the inevitable cartridge-belt about his +middle, sagging with the heavy pistol; a quirt dangled from his left +hand. Assuredly he belonged in this environment--he even seemed to +dominate it. + +She had wondered how he would greet her; but his greeting was not at all +what she had feared it would be. For he did not presume upon their +meeting on the train; he gave no sign that he had ever seen her before; +there was not even a glint in his eyes to tell her that he remembered +the scornful look she had given him when she discovered him listening to +the conversation carried on between her uncle and Carrington. His manner +indicated that if _she_ did not care to mention the matter _he_ would +not. His face was grave as he stepped across the porch and stood before +her. And he said merely: + +"Are you looking for someone, ma'am?" + +"I came to see you, Mr. Taylor," she said. (And then he knew that the +negro porter on the train had not lied when he said the girl had paid +him for certain information.) + +But Taylor's face was still grave, for he thought he knew what she had +come for. He had overheard a great deal of the conversation between +Parsons and Carrington in the dining-car, and he remembered such phrases +as: "That fairy tale about her father having been seen in this locality; +To get her out here, where there isn't a hell of a lot of law, and a +man's will is the only thing that governs him;" and, "Then you lied +about Lawrence Harlan having been seen in this country." Also, he +remembered distinctly another phrase, uttered by Carrington: "That you +framed up on her mother, to get her to leave Larry." + +All of that conversation was vivid in Taylor's mind, and mingled with +the recollection of it now was a grim pity for the girl, for the +hypocritical character of her supposed friends. + +To be sure, the girl did not know that Parsons had lied about her father +having been seen in the vicinity of Dawes; but that did not alter the +fact that Larry Harlan had really been here; and Taylor surmised that +she had made inquiries, thus discovering that there was truth in +Carrington's statement. + +He got a chair for her and seated himself on the porch railing. + +"You came to see me?" he said, encouragingly. + +"I am Marion Harlan, the daughter of Lawrence Harlan," began the girl. +And then she paused to note the effect of her words on Taylor. + +So far as she could see, there was no sign of emotion on Taylor's face. +He nodded, looking steadily at her. + +"And you are seeking news of your father," he said. "Who told you to +come to me?" + +"A man named Ben Mullarky. He said my father had worked for you--that +you had been his best friend." + +She saw his lips come together in straight lines. + +"Poor Larry. You knew he died, Miss Harlan?" + +"Mullarky told me." The girl's eyes moistened. "And I should like to +know something about him--how he lived after--after he left home; +whether he was happy--all about him. You see, Mr. Taylor, I loved him!" + +"And Larry Harlan loved his daughter," said Taylor softly. + +He began to tell her of her father; how several years before Harlan had +come to him, seeking employment; how Larry and himself had formed a +friendship; how they had gone together in search of the gold that Larry +claimed to have discovered in the Sangre de Christo Mountains; of the +injury Larry had suffered, and how the man had died while he himself had +been taking him toward civilization and assistance. + +During the recital, however, one thought dominated him, reddening his +face with visible evidence of the sense of guilt that had seized him. He +must deliberately lie to the daughter of the man who had been his +friend. + +In his pocket at this instant was Larry's note to him, in which the man +had expressed his fear of fortune-hunters. Taylor remembered the exact +words: + + Marion will have considerable money and I don't want no sneak to get + hold of it--like the sneak that got hold of the money my wife had, + that I saved. There's a lot of them around. If Marion is going to + fall in with one of that kind, I'd rather she wouldn't get what I + leave; the man would get it away from her. Use your own judgment and + I'll be satisfied. + +And Taylor's judgment was that Carrington and Parsons were +fortune-hunters; that if they discovered the girl to be entitled to a +share of the money that had been received from the sale of the mine, +they would endeavor to convert it to their own use. And Taylor was +determined they should not have it. + +The conversation he had overheard in the dining-car had convinced him of +their utter hypocrisy and selfishness; it had aroused in him a feeling +of savage resentment and disgust that would not permit him to transfer a +cent of the money to the girl as long as they held the slightest +influence over her. + +Again he mentally quoted from Larry's note to him: + + The others were too selfish and sneaking. (That meant Parsons--and + one other.) Squint, I want you to take care of her.... Sell--the + mine--take my share and for it give Marion a half-interest in your + ranch, the Arrow. If there is any left, put it in land in + Dawes--that town is going to boom. Guard it for her, and marry her, + Squint; she'll make you a good wife. + +Since the first meeting with the girl on the train Taylor had felt an +entire sympathy with Larry Harlan in his expressed desire to have Taylor +marry the girl; in fact, she was the first girl that Taylor had ever +wanted to marry, and the passion in his heart for her had already passed +the wistful stage--he was determined to have her. But that passion did +not lessen his sense of obligation to Larry Harlan. Nor would it--if he +could not have the girl himself--prevent him doing what he could to keep +her from forming any sort of an alliance with the sort of man Larry had +wished to save her from, as expressed in this passage of the note: "If +Marion is going to fall in with one of that kind, I'd rather she +wouldn't get what I leave." + +Therefore, since Taylor distrusted Carrington and Parsons, he had +decided he would not tell the girl of the money her father had left--the +share of the proceeds of the mine. He would hold it for her, as a sacred +trust, until the time came--if it ever came--when she would have +discovered their faithlessness--or until she needed the money. More, he +was determined to expose the men. + +He knew, thanks to his eavesdropping on the train, at least something +regarding the motives that had brought them to Dawes; Carrington's +words, "When we get hold of the reins," had convinced him that they and +the interests behind them were to endeavor to rob the people of Dawes. +That was indicated by their attempt to have David Danforth elected mayor +of the town. + +Taylor had already decided that he could not permit Marion to see the +note her father had left, for he did not want her to feel that she was +under any obligation--parental or otherwise--to marry him. If he won her +at all, he wanted to win her on his merits. + +As a matter of fact, since he had decided to lie about the money, he was +determined to say nothing about the note at all. He would keep silent, +making whatever explanations that seemed to be necessary, trusting to +time and the logical sequence of events for the desired outcome. + +He was forced to begin to lie at once. When he had finished the story of +Larry's untimely death, the girl looked straight at him. + +"Then you were with him when he died. Did--did he mention anyone--my +mother--or me?" + +"He said: 'Squint, there is a daughter'"--Taylor was quoting from the +note--"'she was fifteen when I saw her last. She looked just like +me--thank God for that!'" Taylor blushed when he saw the girl's face +redden, for he knew what her thoughts were. He should not have quoted +that sentence. He resolved to be more careful; and went on: "He told me +I was to take care of you, to offer you a home at the Arrow--after I +found you. I was to go to Westwood, Illinois, to find you. I suppose he +wanted me to bring you here." + +The speech was entirely unworthy, and Taylor knew it, and he eased his +conscience by adding: "He thought, I suppose, that you would like to be +where he had been. I've not touched the room he had. All his effects are +there--everything he owned, just as he left them. I had given him a room +in the house because I liked him (that was the truth), and I wanted him +where I could talk to him." + +"I cannot thank you enough for that!" she said earnestly. And then +Taylor was forced to lie again, for she immediately asked: "And the +mine? It proved to be worthless, I suppose. For," she added, "that would +be just father's luck." + +"The mine wasn't what we thought it would be," said Taylor. He was +looking at his boots when he spoke, and he wondered if his face was as +red as it felt. + +"I am not surprised." There was no disappointment in her voice, and +therefore Taylor knew she was not avaricious--though he knew he had not +expected her to be. "Then he left nothing but his personal belongings?" +she added. + +Taylor nodded. + +The girl sat for a long time, looking out over the river into the vast +level that stretched away from it. + +"He has ridden there, I suppose," she said wistfully. "He was here for +nearly three years, you said. Then he must have been everywhere around +here." And she got up, gazing about her, as though she would firmly fix +the locality for future reminiscent dreams. Then suddenly she said: + +"I should like to see his room--may I?" + +"You sure can!" + +She followed him into the house, and he stood in the open doorway, +watching her as she went from place to place, looking at Larry's +effects. + +Taylor did not remain long at the door; he went out upon the porch +again, leaving her in the room, and after a long time she joined him, +her eyes moist, but a smile on her lips. + +"You'll leave his things there--a little longer, won't you? I should +like to have them, and I shall come for them, some day." + +"Sure," he said. "But, look here, Miss Harlan. Why should you take his +things? Leave them here--and come yourself. That room is yours, if you +say the word. And a half-interest in the ranch. I was going to offer +your father an interest in it--if he had lived----" + +He realized his mistake when he saw her eyes widen incredulously. And +there was a change in her voice--it was full of doubt, of distrust +almost. + +"What had father done to deserve an interest in your ranch?" she +demanded. + +"Why," he answered hesitatingly, "it's rather hard to say. But he helped +me much; he suggested improvements that made the place more valuable; he +was a good man, and he took a great deal of the work off my mind--and I +liked him," he finished lamely. + +"And do you think I could do his share of the work?" she interrogated, +looking at him with an odd smile, the meaning of which Taylor could not +fathom. + +"I couldn't expect that, of course," he said boldly; "but I owe Harlan +something for what he did for me, and I thought----" + +"You thought you would be charitable to the daughter," she finished for +him, with a smile in which there was gratitude and understanding. + +"I am sure I can't thank you enough for feeling that way toward my +father and myself. But I can't accept, you know." + +Taylor did know, of course. A desperate desire to make amends for his +lying, to force upon her gratuitously what he had illegally robbed her +of, had been the motive underlying his offer. And he would have been +disappointed had she accepted, for that would have revealed a lack of +spirit which he had hoped she possessed. + +And yet Taylor felt decidedly uncomfortable over the refusal. He wanted +her to have what belonged to her, for he divined from the note her +father had left that she would have need of it. + +He discovered by judicious questioning, by inference, and through crafty +suggestion, that she was entirely dependent upon her uncle; that her +uncle had bought the Huggins house, and that Carrington had made her a +present of the horse she rode. + +This last bit of information, volunteered by Marion, provoked Taylor to +a rage that made him grit his teeth. + +A little while longer they talked, and when the girl mounted her horse +to ride away, they had entered into an agreement under which on Tuesdays +and Fridays--the first Tuesday falling on the following day--Taylor was +to be absent from the ranch. And during his absence the girl was to come +and stay at the ranchhouse, there to occupy her father's room and, if +she desired, to enter the other rooms at will. + +As a concession to propriety, she was to bring Martha, the Huggins +housekeeper, with her. + +But Taylor, after the girl had left, stood for an hour on the porch, +watching the dust-cloud that followed the girl's progress through the +big basin, his face red, his soul filled with loathing for the part his +judgment was forcing him to play. But arrayed against the loathing was a +complacent satisfaction aroused over the thought that Carrington would +never get the money that Larry Harlan had left to the girl. + + + + +CHAPTER X--THE FRAME-UP + + +James J. Carrington was unscrupulous, but even his most devout enemy +could not have said that he lacked vision and thoroughness. And, while +he had been listening to Danforth in his apartment in the Castle Hotel, +he had discovered that Neil Norton had made a technical blunder in +electing Quinton Taylor mayor of Dawes. Perhaps that was why Carrington +had not seemed to be very greatly disturbed over the knowledge that +Danforth had been defeated; certainly it was why Carrington had taken +the first train to the capital. + +Carrington was tingling with elation when he reached the capital; but on +making inquiries he found that the governor had left the city the day +before, and that he was not expected to return for several days. + +Carrington passed the interval renewing some acquaintances, and fuming +with impatience in the barroom, the billiard-room, and the lobby of his +hotel. + +But he was the first visitor admitted to the governor's office when the +latter returned. + +The governor was a big man, flaccid and portly, and he received +Carrington with a big Stetson set rakishly on the back of his head and +an enormous black cigar in his mouth. That he was not a statesman but a +professional politician was quite as apparent from his appearance as was +his huge, welcoming smile, a certain indication that he was on terms of +intimate friendship with Carrington. Formerly an eastern political +worker, and a power in the councils of his party, his appointment as +governor of the Territory had come, not because of his ability to fill +the position, but as a reward for the delivery of certain votes which +had helped to make his party successful at the polls. He would be the +last carpetbag governor of the Territory, for the Territory had at last +been admitted to the Union; the new Legislature was even then in +session; charters were already being issued to municipalities that +desired self-government--and the governor, soon to quit his position as +temporary chief, had no real interest in the new regime, and no desire +to aid in eliminating the inevitable confusion. + +"Take a seat, Jim," he invited, "and have a cigar. My secretary tells me +you've been buzzing around here like a bee lost from the hive, for the +past week." He grinned hugely at Carrington, poking the latter playfully +in the ribs as Carrington essayed to light the cigar that had been given +him. + +"Worried about that man Taylor, in Dawes, eh?" he went on, as Carrington +smoked. "Well, it _was_ too bad that Danforth didn't trim him, wasn't +it? But"--and his eyes narrowed--"I'm still governor, and Taylor isn't +mayor yet--and never will be!" + +Carrington smiled. "You saw the mistake, too, eh?" + +"Saw it!" boomed the governor. "I've been watching that town as a cat +watches a mouse. Itching for the clean-up, Jim," he whispered. "Why, +I've got the papers all made out--ousting him and appointing Danforth +mayor. Right here they are." He reached into a pigeon-hole and drew out +some legal papers. "You can serve them yourself. Just hand them to Judge +Littlefield--he'll do the rest. It's likely--if Taylor starts a fuss, +that you'll have to help Littlefield handle the case--arranging for +deputies, and such. If you need any more help, just wire me. I don't +pack my carpetbag for a year yet, and we can do a lot of work in that +time." + +Carrington and the governor talked for an hour or more, and when +Carrington left for the office he was grinning with pleasurable +anticipation. For a municipality, already sovereign according to the +laws of the people, had been delivered into his hands. + +Just at dusk on Tuesday evening Carrington alighted from the train at +Dawes. He went to his rooms in the Castle, removed the stains of travel, +descended the stairs to the dining-room, and ate heartily; then, +stopping at the cigar-counter to light a cigar, he inquired of the clerk +where he could find Judge Littlefield. + +"He's got a house right next to the courthouse--on your left, from +here," the clerk told him. + +A few minutes later Carrington was seated opposite Judge Littlefield, +with a table between them, in the front room of the judge's residence. + +"My name is Carrington--James J.," was Carrington's introduction of +himself. "I have just left the governor, and he gave me these, to hand +over to you." He shoved over the papers the governor had given him, +smiling slightly at the other. + +The judge answered the smile with a beaming smirk. + +"I've heard of you," he said; "the governor has often spoken of you." He +glanced hastily over the papers, and his smirk widened. "The good people +of Dawes will be rather shocked over this decision, I suppose. But +laymen _will_ confuse things--won't they? Now, if Norton and his friends +had come to _me_ before they decided to enter Taylor's name, this thing +would not have happened." + +"I'm glad it _did_ happen," laughed Carrington. "The chances are that +even Norton would have beaten Danforth, and then the governor could not +have interfered." + +Carrington's gaze became grim as he looked at the judge. "You are +prepared to go the limit in this case, I suppose?" he interrogated. +"There is a chance that Taylor and his friends will attempt to make +trouble. But any trouble is to be handled firmly, you understand. There +is to be no monkey business. If they accept the law's mandates, as all +law-abiding citizens should accept it, all well and good. And if they +don't--and they want trouble, we'll give them that! Understand?" + +"Perfectly," smiled the judge. "The law is not to be assailed." + +Smilingly he bowed Carrington out. + +Carrington took a turn down the street, walking until his cigar burned +itself out; then he entered the hotel and sat for a time in the lobby. +Then he went to bed, satisfied that he had done a good week's work, and +conscious that he had launched a heavy blow at the man for whom he had +conceived a great and bitter hatred. + + + + +CHAPTER XI--"NO FUN FOOLING HER" + + +Accompanied by Martha, who rode one of the horses Parsons had bought, +Marion Harlan began her trip to the Arrow shortly after dawn. + +The girl had said nothing to Parsons regarding her meeting with Taylor +the previous day, nor of her intention to pass the day at the Arrow. For +she feared that Parsons might make some objection--and she wanted to go. + +That she feared her uncle's deterrent influence argued that she was +aware that she was doing wrong in going to the Arrow--even with Martha +as chaperon; but that was, perhaps, the very reason the thought of going +engaged her interest. + +She wondered many times, as she rode, with the negro woman trailing her, +if there was not inherent in her some of those undesirable traits +concerning which the good people of Westwood had entertained fears. + +The thought crimsoned her cheeks and brightened her eyes; but she knew +she had no vicious thoughts--that she was going to the Arrow, not +because she wanted to see Taylor again, but because she wanted to sit in +the room that had been occupied by her father. She wanted to look again +at his belongings, to feel his former presence--as she had felt it while +gazing out over the vast level beyond the river, where he had ridden +many times. + +She looked in on Mrs. Mullarky as they passed the Mullarky cabin, and +when the good woman learned of her proposed visit to the Arrow, she gave +her entire approval. + +"I don't blame you, darlin'," declared Mrs. Mullarky. "Let the world +jabber--if it wants to. If it was me father that had been over there, +I'd stay there, takin' Squint Taylor at his word--an' divvle a bit I'd +care what the world would say about it!" + +So Marion rode on, slightly relieved. But the crimson stain was still on +her cheeks when she and Martha dismounted at the porch, and she looked +fearfully around, half-expecting that Taylor would appear from +somewhere, having tricked her. + +But Taylor was nowhere in sight. A fat man appeared from somewhere in +the vicinity of the stable, doffed his hat politely, informed her that +he was the "stable boss" and would care for the horses; he having been +delegated by Taylor to perform whatever service Miss Harlan desired; and +ambled off, leading the horses, leaving the girl and Martha standing +near the edge of the porch. + +Marion entered the house with a strange feeling of guilt and shame. +Standing in the open doorway--where she had seen Taylor standing when +she had dismounted the day before--she was afflicted with regret and +mortification over her coming. It wasn't right for a girl to do as she +was doing; and for an instant she hesitated on the verge of flight. + +But Martha's voice directly behind her, reassured her. + +"They ain't a soul here, honey--not a soul. You've got the whole house +to yo'self. This am a lark--shuah enough. He, he, he!" + +It was the voice of the temptress--and Marion heeded it. With a defiant +toss of her head she entered the room, took off her hat, laid it on a +convenient table, calmly telling Martha to do the same. Then she went +boldly from one room to another, finally coming to a halt in the doorway +of the room that had been occupied by her father. + +For her that room seemed to hallow the place. It was as though her +father were here with her; as though there were no need of Martha being +here with her. The thought of it removed any stigma that might have been +attached to her coming; it made her heedless of the opinion of the world +and its gossip-mongers. + +She forgot the world in her interest, and for more than an hour, with +Martha sitting in a chair sympathetically watching her, she reveled in +the visible proofs of her father's occupancy of the room. + +Later she and Martha went out on the porch, where, seated in +rocking-chairs--that had not been on the porch the day before--she +filled her mental vision with pictures of her father's life at the +Arrow. Those pictures were imaginary, but they were intensely satisfying +to the girl who had loved her father, for she could almost see him +moving about her. + +"You shuah does look soft an' dreamy, honey," Martha told her once. "You +looks jes' like a delicate ghost. A while ago, lookin' at you, I shuah +was scared you was goin' to blow away!" + +But Marion was not the ethereal wraith that Martha thought her. She +proved that a little later, when, with the negro woman abetting her, she +went into the house and prepared dinner. For she ate so heartily that +Martha was forced to amend her former statement. + +"For a ghost you shuah does eat plenty, honey," she said. + +Later they were out on the porch again. The big level on the other side +of the river was flooded with a slumberous sunshine, with the glowing, +rose haze of early afternoon enveloping it, and the girl was enjoying it +when there came an interruption. + +A cowboy emerged from a building down near the corral--Marion learned +later that the building was the bunkhouse, which meant that it was used +as sleeping-quarters for the Arrow outfit--and walked, with the rolling +stride so peculiar to his kind, toward the porch. + +He was a tall young man, red of face, and just now affected with a +mighty embarrassment, which was revealed in the awkward manner in which +he removed his hat and shuffled his feet as he came to a halt within a +few feet of Marion. + +"The boss wants to know how you are gettin' along, ma'am, an' if there's +anything you're wantin'?" + +"We are enjoying ourselves immensely, thank you; and there is nothing we +want--particularly." + +The puncher had turned to go before the girl thought of the significance +of the "boss." + +Her face was a trifle pale as she called to the puncher. + +"Who is your boss--if you please?" she asked. + +The puncher wheeled, a slow grin on his face. + +"Why, Squint Taylor, ma'am." + +She sat erect. "Do you mean that Mr. Taylor is here?" + +"He's in the bunkhouse, ma'am." + +She got up, and, holding her head very erect, began to walk toward the +room in which she had left her hat. + +But half-way across the porch the puncher's voice halted her: + +"Squint was sayin' you didn't expect him to be here, an' that I'd have +to do the explainin'. He couldn't come, you see." + +"Ashamed, I suppose," she said coldly. + +She was facing the puncher now, and she saw him grin. + +"Why, no, ma'am; I don't reckon he's a heap ashamed. But it'd be mighty +inconvenient for him. You see, ma'am, this mornin', when he was gittin' +ready to ride to the south line, his cayuse got an ornery streak an' +throwed him, sprainin' Squint's ankle." + +The girl's emotions suddenly reacted; the resentment she had yielded to +became self-reproach. For she had judged hastily, and she had always +felt that one had no right to judge hastily. + +And Taylor had been remarkably considerate; for he had not even +permitted her to know of the accident until after noon. That indicated +that he had no intention of forcing himself on her. + +She hesitated, saw Martha grinning into a hand, looked at the puncher's +expressionless face, and felt that she had been rather prudish. Her +cheeks flushed with color. + +Taylor had actually been a martyr on a small scale in confining himself +to the bunkhouse, when he could have enjoyed the comforts and +spaciousness of the ranchhouse if it had not been for her own presence. + +"Is--is his ankle badly sprained?" she hesitatingly asked the now +sober-faced puncher. + +"Kind of bad, ma'am; he ain't been able to do no walkin' on it. Been +hobblin' an' swearin', mostly, ma'am. It's sure a trial to be near him." + +"And it is warm here; it must be terribly hot in that little place!" + +She was at the edge of the porch now, her face radiating sympathy. + +"I am not surprised that he should swear!" she told the puncher, who +grinned and muttered: + +"He's sure first class at it, ma'am." + +"Why," she said, paying no attention to the puncher's compliment of his +employer, "he is hurt, and I have been depriving him of his house. You +tell him to come right out of that stuffy place! Help him to come here!" + +And without waiting to watch the puncher depart, she darted into the +house, pulled a big rocker out on the porch, got a pillow and arranged +it so that it would form a resting-place for the injured man's +head--providing he decided to occupy the chair, which she doubted--and +then stood on the edge of the porch, awaiting his appearance. + +Inside the bunkhouse the puncher was grinning at Taylor, who, with his +right foot swathed in bandages, was sitting on a bench, anxiously +awaiting the delivery of the puncher's message. + +"Well, talk, you damned grinning inquisitor!" was Taylor's greeting to +the puncher. "What did she say?" + +"At first she didn't seem to be a heap overjoyed to know that you was in +this country," said the other; "but when she heard you'd been hurt she +sort of stampeded, invitin' you to come an' set on the porch with her." + +Taylor got up and started for the door, the bandaged foot dragging +clumsily. + +"Shucks," drawled the puncher; "if you go to _runnin'_ to her she'll +have suspicions. Accordin' to my notion, she expects you to come a +hobblin', same as though your leg was broke. 'Help him to come,' she +told me. An' you're goin' that way--you hear me! I'll bust your ankle +with a club before I'll have her think I'm a liar!" + +"Maybe I _was_ a little eager," grinned Taylor. + +An instant later he stepped out of the bunkhouse door, leaning heavily +on the puncher's shoulder. + +The two made slow progress to the porch; and Taylor's ascent to the +porch and his final achievement of the rocking-chair were accomplished +slowly, with the assistance of Miss Harlan. + +Then, with a face almost the color of the scarlet neckerchief he wore, +Taylor watched the retreat of the puncher. + +His face became redder when Miss Harlan drew another rocker close to his +and demanded to be told the story of the accident. + +"My own fault," declared Taylor. "I was in a hurry. Accidents always +happen that way, don't they? Slipped trying to swing on my horse, with +him running. Missed the stirrup. Clumsy, wasn't it?" + +Eager to keep his word, of course, Marion reasoned. She had insisted +that he be gone when she arrived, and he had injured himself hurrying. + +She watched him as he talked of the accident. And now for the first time +she understood why he had acquired the nickname Squint. + +His eyes were deep-set, though not small. He did not really squint, for +there was plenty of room between the eyelids--which, by the way, were +fringed with lashes that might have been the envy of any woman; but +there were many little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, which spread +fanwise toward cheek and brow, and these created the illusion of +squinting. + +Also, he had a habit of partially closing his eyes when looking directly +at one; and at such times they held a twinkling glint that caused one to +speculate over their meaning. + +Miss Harlan was certain the twinkle meant humor. But other persons had +been equally sure the twinkle meant other emotions, or passion. Looking +into Taylor's eyes in the dining-car, Carrington had decided they were +filled with cold, implacable hostility, with the promise of violence, to +himself. And yet the squint had not been absent. + +Whatever had been expressed in the eyes had been sufficient to deter +Carrington from his announced purpose to "knock hell out of" their +owner. + +The girl was aware that Taylor was not handsome; that his attractions +were not of a surface character. Something about him struck deeper than +that. A subtle magnetism gripped her--the magnetism of strength, moral +and mental. In his eyes she could see the signs of it; in the lines of +his jaw and the set of his lips were suggestions of indomitability and +force. + +All the visible signs were, however, glossed over with the deep, slow +humor that radiated from him, that glowed in his eyes. + +It all made her conscious of a great similarity between them; for +despite the doubts and suspicions of the people of Westwood, she had +been able to survive--and humor had been the grace that had saved her +from disappointment and pessimism. Those other traits in Taylor--visible +to one who studied him--she knew for her own; and her spirits now +responded to his. + +Her cheeks were glowing as she looked at him, and her eyes, half veiled +by the drooping lashes, were dancing with mischief. + +"You were in that hot bunkhouse all morning," she said. "Why didn't you +send word before?" + +"You were careful to tell me that you didn't want me around when you +came." + +There was a gleam of reproach in his eyes. + +"But you were injured!" + +"Look how things go in the world," he invited, narrowing his eyes at +her. "It's almost enough to make a man let go all holds and just drift +along. Maybe a man would be just as well off. + +"Early this morning I knew I had to light out for the day, and I didn't +want to go any more than a gopher wants to go into a rattlesnake's den. +But I had to keep my word. Then Spotted Tail gets notions----" + +"Spotted Tail?" she interrupted. + +"My horse," he grinned at her. "He gets notions. Maybe he wants to get +away as much as I want to stay. Anyhow, he was in a hurry; and things +shape up so that I've got to stay. + +"And then, when I hang around the bunkhouse all morning, worrying +because I'm afraid you'll find out that I didn't keep my word, and that +I'm still here, you send word that you'll not object to me coming on the +porch with you. I'd call that a misjudgment all around--on my part." + +"Yes--it was that," she told him. "You certainly are entitled to the +comforts of your own house--especially when you are hurt. But are you +sure you _worried_ because you were afraid I would discover you were +here?" + +"I expect you can prove that by looking at me, Miss Harlan--noticing +that I've got thin and pale-looking since you saw me last?" + +She threw a demure glance at him. "I am afraid you are in great danger; +you do not look nearly as well as when I saw you, the first time, on the +train." + +He looked gravely at her. + +"The porter threw them out of the window," he said. "That is, I gave him +orders to." + +"What?" she said, perplexed. "I don't understand. What did the porter +throw out of the window?" + +"My dude clothes," he said. + +So he _had_ observed the ridicule in her eyes. + +She met his gaze, and both laughed. + +He had been curious about her all along, and he artfully questioned her +about Westwood, gradually drawing from her the rather unexciting details +of her life. Yet these details were chiefly volunteered, Taylor noticed, +and did not result entirely from his questions. + +Carrington's name came into the discussion, also, and Parsons. Taylor +discovered that Carrington and Parsons had been partners in many +business deals, and that they had come to Dawes because the town offered +many possibilities. The girl quoted Carrington's words; Taylor was +convinced that she knew nothing of the character of the business the men +had come to Dawes to transact. + +Their talk strayed to minor subjects and to those of great importance, +ranging from a discussion of prairie hens to sage comment upon certain +abstruse philosophy. Always, however, the personal note was dominant and +the personal interest acute. + +That atmosphere--the deep interest of each for the other--made their +conversation animated. For half the time the girl paid no attention to +Taylor's words. She watched him when he talked, noting the various +shades of expression of his eyes, the curve of his lips, wondering at +the deep music of his voice. She marveled that at first she had thought +him uninteresting and plain. + +For she had discovered that he was rather good-looking; that he was +endowed with a natural instinct to reach accurate and logical +conclusions; that he was quiet-mannered and polite--and a gentleman. Her +first impressions of him had not been correct, for during their talk she +discovered through casual remarks, that Taylor had been educated with +some care, that his ancestors were of that sturdy American stock which +had made the settling of the eastern New-World wilderness possible, and +that there was in his manner the unmistakable gentleness of good +breeding. + +However, Taylor's first impressions of the girl had endured without +amendations. At a glance he had yielded to the spell of her, and the +intimate and informal conversation carried on between them; the flashes +of personality he caught merely served to convince him of her +desirability. + +Twice during their talk Martha cleared her throat significantly and +loudly, trying to attract their attention. + +The efforts bore no fruit, and Martha might have been entirely forgotten +if she had not finally got to her feet and laid a hand on Marion's +shoulder. + +"I's gwine to lie down a spell, honey," she said. "You-all don't need no +third party to entertain you. An' I's powerful tiahd." And over the +girl's shoulder she smiled broadly and sympathetically at Taylor. + +The sun was filling the western level with a glowing, golden haze when +Miss Harlan got to her feet and announced that she was going home. + +"It's the first day I have really enjoyed," she told Taylor as she sat +in the saddle, looking at him. He had got up and was standing at the +porch edge. "That is, it is the first enjoyable day I have passed since +I have been here," she added. + +"I wouldn't say that I've been exactly bored myself," he grinned at her. +"But I'm not so sure about Friday; for if you come Friday the chances +are that my ankle will be well again, and I'll have to make myself +scarce. You see, my excuse will be gone." + +Martha was sitting on her horse close by, and her eyes were dancing. + +"Don' you go an' bust your haid, Mr. Taylor!" she warned. "I knows +somebuddy that would be powerful sorry if that would happen to you!" + +"Martha!" said Marion severely. But her eyes were eloquent as they met +Taylor's twinkling ones; and she saw a deep color come into Taylor's +cheeks. + +Taylor watched her until she grew dim in the distance; then he turned +and faced the tall young puncher, who had stepped upon the porch and had +been standing near. + +The puncher grinned. "Takin' 'em off now, boss?" he asked. + +He pointed to the bandages on Taylor's right foot. In one of the young +puncher's hands was Taylor's right boot. + +"Yes," returned Taylor. + +He sat down in the rocker he had occupied all afternoon, and the young +puncher removed the bandages, revealing Taylor's bare foot and ankle, +with no bruise or swelling to mar the white skin. + +Taylor drew on the sock which the puncher drew from the boot; then he +pulled on the boot and stood up. + +The puncher was grinning hugely, but no smile was on Taylor's face. + +"It worked, boss," said the puncher; "she didn't tumble. I thought I'd +laff my head off when I seen her fixin' the pillow for you--an' your +foot not hurt more than mine. You ought to be plumb tickled, pullin' off +a trick like that!" + +"I ain't a heap tickled," declared Taylor glumly. "There's no fun in +fooling _her_!" + +Which indicated that Taylor's thoughts were now serious. + + + + +CHAPTER XII--LIFTING THE MASK + + +Elam Parsons awoke early in the morning following that on which Marion +Harlan's visit to the Arrow occurred. He lay for a long time smiling at +the ceiling, with a feeling that something pleasurable was in store for +him, but not able to determine what that something was. + +It was not long, however, before Parsons remembered. + +When he had got out of bed the previous morning he had discovered the +absence of Marion and Martha. Also, he found that two of the horses were +missing--Marion's, and one of the others he had personally bought. + +Parsons spent the day in Dawes. Shortly before dusk he got on his horse +and rode homeward. Dismounting at the stable, he noted that the two +absent horses had not come in. He grinned disagreeably and went into the +house. He emerged almost instantly, for Marion and Martha had not +returned. + +Later he saw them, Marion leading, coming up the slope that led to the +level upon which the house stood. + +Marion had retired early, and after she had gone to her room Parsons had +questioned Martha. + +Twice while getting into his clothes this morning Parsons chuckled +audibly. There was malicious amusement in the sound. + +Once he caught himself saying aloud: + +"I knew it would come, sooner or later. And she's picked out the +clodhopper! This will tickle Carrington!" + +Again he laughed--such a laugh as the good people of Westwood might have +used had they known what Parsons knew--that Marion Harlan had visited a +stranger at his ranchhouse--a lonely place, far from prying eyes. + +Parsons hated the girl as heartily as he had hated her father. He hated +her because of her close resemblance to her parent; and he had hated +Larry Harlan ever since their first meeting. + +Parsons likewise had no affection for Carrington. They had been business +associates for many years, and their association had been profitable for +both; but there was none of that respect and admiration which marks many +partnerships. + +On several occasions Carrington had betrayed greediness in the division +of the spoils of their ventures. But Carrington was the strong man, +ruthless and determined, and Parsons was forced to nurse his resentment +in silence. He meant some day, however, to repay Carrington, and he lost +no opportunity to harass him. And yet it had been Parsons who had +brought Carrington to Westwood two years before. He knew Carrington; he +knew something of the big man's way with women, of his merciless +treatment of them. And he had invited Carrington to Westwood, hoping +that the big man would add Marion Harlan to his list of victims. + +So far, Carrington had made little progress. This fact, contrary to +Parsons' principles, had afforded the man secret enjoyment. He liked to +see Carrington squirm under disappointment. He anticipated much pleasure +in watching Carrington's face when he should tell him where Marion had +been the day before. + +He breakfasted alone--early--chuckling his joy. And shortly after he +left the table he was on a horse, riding toward Dawes. + +He reached town about eight and went directly to Carrington's rooms in +the Castle. + +Carrington had shaved and washed, and was sitting at a front window, +coatless, his hair uncombed, when Parsons knocked on the door. + +"You're back, eh?" said Parsons as he took a chair near the window. +"Danforth was telling me you went to see the governor. Did you fix it?" + +Carrington grinned. "Taylor was to take the oath today. He won't take +it--at least, not the sort of oath he expected." + +"It's lucky you knew the governor." + +"H-m." The grim grunt indicated that, governor or no governor, +Carrington would not be denied. + +Parsons smirked. But Carrington detected an unusual quality in the +smirk--something more than satisfaction over the success of the visit to +the governor. There was malicious amusement in the smirk, and +anticipation. Parsons' expressed satisfaction was not over what _had_ +happened, but over what was _going_ to happen. + +Carrington knew Parsons, and therefore Carrington gave no sign of what +he had seen in Parsons' face. He talked of Dawes and of their own +prospects. But once, when Carrington mentioned Marion Harlan, quite +casually, he noted that Parsons' eyes widened. + +But Parsons said nothing on the subject which had brought him until he +had talked for half an hour. Then, noting that his manner had aroused +Carrington's interest, he said softly: + +"This man, Taylor, seems destined to get in your way, doesn't he?" + +"What do you mean?" demanded Carrington shortly. + +"Do you remember telling me--on the train, with this man, Taylor, +listening--that your story to Marion, of her father having been seen in +this locality, was a fairy tale--without foundation?" + +At Carrington's nod Parsons continued: + +"Well, it seems it was not a fairy tale, after all. For Larry Harlan was +in his section for two or three years!" + +"Who told you that?" Carrington slid forward in his chair and was +looking hard at Parsons. + +Parsons was enjoying the other's astonishment, and Parsons was not to be +hurried--he wanted to _taste_ the flavor of his news; it was as good to +his palate as a choice morsel of food to the palate of a disciple of +Epicurus. + +"It came in a sort of roundabout way, I understand," said Parsons. "It +seems that during your absence Marion made a number of inquiries about +her father. Then a man named Ben Mullarky rode over to the house and +told her that Larry had been in this country--that he had worked for the +Arrow." + +"That's Taylor's ranch," said Carrington. A deep scowl furrowed his +forehead; his lips extended in a sullen pout. + +Parsons was enjoying him. "Taylor again, eh?" he said softly. "First, he +appears on the train, where he gets an earful of something we don't want +him to hear; then he is elected mayor, which is detrimental to our +interests; then we discover that Larry Harlan worked for him. _You'll_ +be interested to know that Marion went right over to the Arrow--in fact, +she spent part of Monday there, and practically _all_ of yesterday. +More, Taylor has invited her to come whenever she wants to." + +"She went alone?" demanded Carrington. + +"With Martha, my negro housekeeper. But that--" Parsons made a gesture +of derision and went on: "Martha says Taylor was there with her, and +that the two of them--with Martha asleep in the house--spent the entire +afternoon on the porch, talking rather intimately." + +To Parsons' surprise Carrington did not betray the perturbation Parsons +expected. The scowl was still furrowing his forehead, his lips were +still in the sullen pout; but he said nothing, looking steadily at +Parsons. + +At last his lips moved slightly; Parsons could see the clenched teeth +between them. + +"Where's Larry Harlan now?" + +Parsons related the story told him by Martha--which had been imparted to +the negro woman by Marion in confidence--that Larry Harlan had been +accidentally killed, searching for a mine. + +When Parsons finished Carrington got up. There was a grin on his face as +he stepped to where Parsons sat and placed his two hands heavily on the +other's shoulders. + +There was a grin on his face, but his eyes were agleam with a slumbering +passion that made Parsons catch his breath with a gasp. And his voice, +low, and freighted with menace, caused Parsons to quake with terror. + +"Parsons," he said, "I want you to understand this: I am going to be the +law out here. I'll run things to suit myself. I'll have no half-hearted +loyalty, and I'll destroy any man who opposes me! Those who are not with +me to the last gasp are against me!" He laughed, and Parsons felt the +man's hot breath on his face--so close was it to his own. + +"I was born a thousand years too late, Parsons!" he went on. "I am a +robber baron brought down to date--modernized. I believe that in me +flows the blood of a pirate, a savage, or an ancient king; I have all +the instincts of a tribal chief whose principles are to rule or ruin! +I'll have no law out here but my own desires; and hypocrisy--in +others--doesn't appeal to me! + +"You've told me a tale that interested me, but in the telling of it you +made one mistake--you enjoyed the discomfiture you thought it would give +me. You tingled with malice. Just to show you that I'll not tolerate +disloyalty from you--even in thought--I'm going to punish you." + +He dropped his big hands to Parsons' throat, shutting off the incipient +scream that issued from between the man's lips. Parsons fought with all +his strength to escape the grip of the iron fingers at his throat, +twisting and squirming frenziedly in the chair. But the fingers +tightened their grip, and when the man's face began to turn blue-black, +Carrington released him and looked down at his victim, laughing +vibrantly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII--THE SHADOW OF TROUBLE + + +Elam recovered slowly, for Carrington had choked him into +unconsciousness. Out of the blank, dark coma Parsons came, his brain +reeling, his body racked with agonizing pains. His hands went to his +throat before he could open his eyes; he pulled at the flesh to ease the +constriction that still existed there; he caught his breath in great +gasps that shrilled through the room. And when at last he succeeded in +getting his breath to come regularly, he opened his eyes and saw +Carrington seated in a chair near him, watching him with a cold, +speculative smile. + +He heard Carrington's voice saying: "Pretty close, wasn't it, Parsons?" +But he did not answer; his vocal cords were still partially paralyzed. + +He closed his eyes again and stretched out in the chair. Carrington +thought he had fainted, but Parsons was merely resting--and thinking. + +His thoughts were not pleasant. Many times during the years of their +association he had seen the beast in Carrington's eyes, but this was the +first time Carrington had even shown it in his presence, naked and ugly. +Carrington had told him many times that were he not hemmed in with laws +and courts he would tramp ruthlessly over every obstacle that got in his +way; and Parsons knew now that the man had meant what he said. The beast +in him was rampant; his passions were to have free rein; he had thrown +off the shackles of civilization and was prepared to do murder to attain +his aims. + +Parsons realized his own precarious predicament. Carrington controlled +every cent Parsons owned--it was in the common pool, which was in +Carrington's charge. Parsons might leave Dawes, but his money must +stay--Carrington would never give it up. More, Parsons was now afraid to +ask for an accounting or a division, for fear Carrington would kill him. + +Parsons knew he must stay in Dawes, and that from now on he must play +lackey to the master who, at last in an environment that suited him, had +so ruthlessly demonstrated his principles. + +In a spirit of abject surrender Parsons again opened his eyes and sat +up. Carrington rose and again stood over him. + +"You understand now, Parsons, I'm running things. You stay in the +background. If you interfere with me I'll kill you. I'll kill you if you +laugh at me again. Your job out here is to take care of Marion Harlan. +You're to keep her here. If she gets away I'll manhandle you! Now get +out of here!" + +An hour later Parsons was sitting on the front porch of the big house, +staring vacantly out into the big level below him, his heart full of +hatred and impotent resentment; his brain, formerly full of craft and +guile, now temporarily atrophied through its attempts to comprehend the +new character of the man who had throttled him. + +In Dawes, Carrington was getting into his clothing. He was smiling, his +eyes glowing with grim satisfaction. At nine o'clock Carrington +descended the stairs, stopped in the hotel lobby to light a cigar; then +crossed the street and went into the courthouse, where he was greeted +effusively by Judge Littlefield. Quinton Taylor, too, was going to the +courthouse. + +This morning at ten o'clock, according to information received from Neil +Norton--sent to Taylor by messenger the night before--Taylor was to take +the oath of office. + +Taylor was conscious of the honor bestowed upon him by the people of +Dawes, though at first he had demurred, pointing out that he was not +actually a resident of the town--the Arrow lying seven miles southward. +But this objection had been met and dismissed by his friends, who had +insisted that he was a resident of the town by virtue of his large +interests there, and from the fact that he occupied an apartment above +the Dawes bank, and that he spent more time in it than he spent in the +Arrow ranchhouse. + +But on the ride to Dawes--on Spotted Tail--(this morning wonderfully +docile despite Tuesday's slander by his master)--Taylor's thoughts dwelt +not upon the honor that was to be his, but upon the questionable trick +he had played on Marion Harlan, with the able assistance of the tall +young puncher, Bud Hemmingway. + +He looked down at the foot, now unbandaged, with a frown. The girl's +complete and matter-of-fact belief in the story of his injury; her +sympathy and deep concern; the self-accusation in her eyes; the instant +pardon she had granted him for staying at the ranchhouse when he should +not have stayed--all these he arrayed against the bald fact that he had +tricked her. And he felt decidedly guilty. + +And yet somehow there was some justification for the trick. It was the +justification of desire. The things a man wants are not to be denied by +the narrow standards of custom. Does a man miss an opportunity to +establish acquaintance with a girl he has fallen in love with, merely +because custom has decreed that she shall not come unattended--save by a +negro woman--to his house? + +Taylor made desire his justification, and his sense of guilt was +dispelled by half. + +Nor was the guilt so poignant that it rested heavily on his conscience +since he had done no harm to the girl. + +What harm had been done had been done to Taylor himself. He kept seeing +Marion as she sat on the porch, and the spell of her had seized him so +firmly that last night, after she had left, the ranchhouse had seemed to +be nothing more than four walls out of which all the life had gone. He +felt lonesome this morning, and was in the grip of a nameless longing. + +All the humor had departed from him. For the first time in all his days +a conception of the meaning of life assailed him, revealing to him a +glimpse of the difficulties of a man in love. For a man may love a girl: +his difficulties begin when the girl seems to become unattainable. + +Looming large in Taylor's thoughts this morning was Carrington. Having +overheard Carrington talking of her on the train, Taylor thought he knew +what Carrington wanted; but he was in doubt regarding the state of the +girl's feelings toward the man. Had she yielded to the man's intense +personal magnetism? + +Carrington was handsome; there was no doubt that almost any girl would +be flattered by his attentions. And had Carrington been worthy of +Marion, Taylor would have entertained no hope of success--he would not +even have thought of it. + +But he had overheard Carrington; he knew the man's nature was vile and +bestial; and already he hated him with a fervor that made his blood riot +when he thought of him. + +When he reached Dawes he found himself hoping that Marion would not be +in town to see that his ankle was unbandaged. But he might have saved +himself that throb of perturbation, for at that minute Marion was +standing in the front room of the big house, looking out of one of the +windows at Parsons, wondering what had happened to make him seem so glum +and abstracted. + +When Taylor dismounted in front of the courthouse there were several men +grouped on the sidewalk near the door. + +Neil Norton was in the group, and he came forward, smiling. + +"We're here to witness the ceremony," he told Taylor. + +Taylor's greeting to the other men was not that of the professional +politician. He merely grinned at them and returned a short: "Well, let's +get it over with," to Norton's remark. Then, followed by his friends, he +entered the courthouse. + +Taylor knew Judge Littlefield. He had no admiration for the man, and yet +his greeting was polite and courteous--it was the greeting of an +American citizen to an official. + +Taylor's first quick glance about the interior of the courthouse showed +him Carrington. The latter was sitting in an armchair near a window +toward the rear of the room. He smiled as Taylor's glance swept him, but +Taylor might not have seen the smile. For Taylor was deeply interested +in other things. + +A conception of the serious responsibility that he was to accept +assailed him. Until now the thing had been entirely personal; his +thoughts had centered upon the honor that was to be his--his friends had +selected him for an important position. And yet Taylor was not vain. + +Now, however, ready to accept the oath of office, he realized that he +was to become the servant of the municipality; that these friends of his +had elected him not merely to honor him but because they trusted him, +because they were convinced that he would administer the affairs of the +young town capably and in a fair and impartial manner. They depended +upon him for justice, advice, and guidance. + +All these things, to be sure, Taylor would give them to the best of his +ability. They must have known that or they would not have elected him. + +These thoughts sobered him as he walked to the little wooden railing in +front of the judge's desk; and his face was grave as he looked at the +other. + +"I am ready to take the oath, Judge Littlefield," he gravely announced. + +Glancing sidewise, Taylor saw that a great many men had come into the +room. He did not turn to look at them, however, for he saw a gleam in +Judge Littlefield's eyes that held his attention. + +"That will not be necessary, Mr. Taylor," he heard the judge say. "The +governor, through the attorney-general, has ruled you were not legally +elected to the office you aspire to. Only last night I was notified of +the decision. It was late, or I should have taken steps to apprise you +of the situation." + +Taylor straightened. He heard exclamations from many men in the room; he +was conscious of a tension that had come into the atmosphere. Some men +scuffled their feet; and then there was a deep silence. + +Taylor smiled without mirth. His dominant emotion was curiosity. + +"Not legally elected?" he said. "Why?" + +The judge passed a paper to Taylor; it was one of those that had been +delivered to the judge by Carrington. + +The judge did not meet Taylor's eyes. + +"You'll find a full statement of the case, there," he said. "Briefly, +however, the governor finds that your name did not appear on the +ballots." + +Norton, who had been standing at Taylor's side all along, now shoved his +way to the railing and leaned over it, his face white with wrath. + +"There's something wrong here, Judge Littlefield!" he charged. "Taylor's +name was on every ballot that was counted for him. I personally examined +every ballot!" + +The judge smiled tolerantly, almost benignantly. + +"Of course--to be sure," he said. "Mr. Taylor's name appeared on a good +many ballots; his friends _wrote_ it, with pencil, and otherwise. But +the law expressly states that a candidate's name must be _printed_. +Therefore, obeying the letter of the law, the governor has ruled that +Mr. Taylor was not elected." There was malicious satisfaction in Judge +Littlefield's eyes as they met Taylor's. Taylor could see that the judge +was in entire sympathy with the influences that were opposing him, +though the judge tried, with a grave smile, to create an impression of +impartiality. + +"Under the governor's ruling, therefore," he continued, "and acting +under explicit directions from the attorney-general, I am empowered to +administer the oath of office to the legally elected candidate, David +Danforth. Now, if Mr. Danforth is in the courtroom, and will come +forward, we shall conclude." + +Mr. Danforth was in the courtroom; he was sitting near Carrington; and +he came forward, his face slightly flushed, with the gaze of every +person in the room on him. + +He smiled apologetically at Taylor as he reached the railing, extending +a hand. + +"I'm damned sorry, Taylor," he declared. "This is all a surprise to me. +I hadn't any doubt that they would swear you in. No hard feelings?" + +Taylor had been conscious of the humiliation of his position. He knew +that his friends would expect him to fight. And yet he felt more like +gracefully yielding to the forces which had barred him from office upon +the basis of so slight a technicality. And despite the knowledge that he +had been robbed of the office, he would have taken Danforth's hand, had +he not at that instant chanced to glance at Carrington. + +The latter's eyes were aglow with a vindictive triumph; as his gaze met +Taylor's, his lips curved with a sneer. + +A dark passion seized Taylor--the bitter, savage rage of jealousy. The +antagonism he had felt for Carrington that day on the train when he had +heard Carrington's voice for the first time was suddenly intensified. It +had been growing slowly, provoked by his knowledge of the man's evil +designs on Marion Harlan. But now there had come into the first +antagonism a gripping lust to injure the other, a determination to balk +him, to defeat him, to meet him on his own ground and crush him. + +For Carrington's sneer had caused the differences between them to become +sharply personal; it would make the fight that was brewing between the +two men not a political fight, but a fight of the spirit. + +Taylor interpreted the sneer as a challenge, and he accepted it. His +eyes gleamed with hatred unmistakable as they held Carrington's; and the +grin on his lips was the cold, unhumorous grin of the fighter who is not +dismayed by odds. His voice was low and sharp, and it carried to every +person in the room: + +"We won't shake, Danforth; you are not particular enough about the +character of your friends!" + +The look was significant, and it compelled the eyes of all of Taylor's +friends, so that Carrington instantly found himself the center of +interest. + +However, he did not change color; on his face a bland smile testified to +his entire indifference to what Taylor or Taylor's friends thought of +him. + +Taylor grinned mirthlessly at the judge, spoke shortly to Norton, and +led the way out through the front door, followed by a number of his +friends. + +Norton took Taylor into his office, adjoining the courthouse, and threw +himself into a chair, grumbling profanely. Outside they could see the +crowd filing down the street, voicing its opinion of the startling +proceeding. + +"An election is an election," they heard one man say--a Taylor +sympathizer. "What difference does it make that Taylor's name wasn't +_printed_? It's a dawg-gone frame-up, that's what it is!" + +But Danforth's adherents were not lacking; and there were arguments in +loud, vigorous language among men who passed the door of the _Eagle_ +office. + +"I could have printed the damned ballots, myself--if I had thought it +necessary," mourned Norton. "And now we're skinned out of it!" + +Norton's disgust was complete and bitter; he had slid down in the chair, +his chin on his chest, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his +trousers. + +Yet his dejection had not infected Taylor; the latter's lips were curved +in a faint smile, ironic and saturnine. It was plain to Norton that +whatever humor there was in the situation was making its appeal to +Taylor. The thought angered Norton, and he sat up, demanding sharply: +"Well, what in hell are you going to do about it?" + +Taylor grinned at the other. "Nothing, now," he said. "We might appeal +to the courts, but if the law specifies that a candidate's name must be +printed, the courts would sustain the governor. It looks to me, Norton, +as though Carrington and Danforth have the cards stacked." + +Norton groaned and again slid down into his chair. He heard Taylor go +out, but he did not change his position. He sat there with his eyes +closed, profanely accusing himself, for he alone was to blame for the +complete defeat that had descended upon his candidate; and he could not +expect Taylor to fight a law which, though unjust and arbitrary, was the +only law in the Territory. + +Taylor had not gone far. He stepped into the door of the courthouse, to +meet Carrington, who was coming out. Danforth and Judge Littlefield were +talking animatedly in the rear of the room. They ceased talking when +they saw Taylor, and faced toward him, looking at him wonderingly. + +Carrington halted just inside the threshold of the doorway, and he, too, +watched Taylor curiously, though there was a bland, sneering smile on +his face. + +Taylor's smile as he looked at the men was still faintly ironic, and his +eyes were agleam with a light that baffled the other men--they could not +determine just what emotion they reflected. + +And Taylor's manner was as quietly deliberate and nonchalant as though +he had merely stepped into the room for a social visit. His gaze swept +the three men. + +"Framing up--again, eh?" he said, with drawling emphasis. "You sure did +a good job for a starter. I just stepped in to say a few words to +you--all of you. To you first, Littlefield." And now his eyes held the +judge--they seemed to squint genially at the man. + +"I happen to know that our big, sleek four-flusher here"--nodding toward +Carrington--"came here to loot Dawes. Quite accidentally, I overheard +him boasting of his intentions. Danforth was sent here by Carrington +more than a year ago to line things up, politically. I don't know how +many are in the game--and I don't care. You are in it, Littlefield. I +saw that by the delight you took in informing me of the decision of the +attorney-general. I just stepped in to tell you that I know what is +going on, and to warn you that you can't do it! You had better pull out +before you make an ass of yourself, Littlefield!" + +The judge's face was crimson. "This is an outrage, Taylor!" he +sputtered. "I'll have you jailed for contempt of court!" + +"Not you!" gibed Taylor, calmly. "You haven't the nerve! I'd like +nothing better than to have you do it. You're a little fuzzy dog that +doesn't crawl out of its kennel until it hears the snap of its master's +fingers! That's all for you!" + +He grinned at Danforth, felinely, and the man flushed under the odd +gleam in the eyes that held his. + +"I can classify you with one word, Dave," he declared; "you're a crook! +That lets you out; you do what you are told!" + +He now ignored the others and faced Carrington. + +His grin faded quickly, the lips stiffening. But still there was a hint +of cold humor in his manner that created the impression that he was +completely in earnest; that he was keenly enjoying himself and that he +did not feel at all tragic. And yet, underlying the mask of humor, +Carrington saw the passionate hatred Taylor felt for him. + +Carrington sneered. He attempted to smile, but the malevolent bitterness +of his passions turned the smile into a hideous smirk. He had hated +Taylor at first sight; and now, with the jealousy provoked by the +knowledge that Taylor had turned his eyes toward Marion Harlan, the +hatred had become a lust to destroy the other. + +Before Taylor could speak, Carrington stepped toward him, thrusting his +face close to Taylor's. The man was in the grip of a mighty rage that +bloated his face, that made his breath come in great labored gasps. He +had not meant to so boldly betray his hatred, but the violence of his +passions drove him on. + +He knew that Taylor was baiting him, mocking him, taunting him; that +Taylor's words to the judge and to Danforth had been uttered with the +grimly humorous purpose of arousing the men to some unwise and +precipitate action; he knew that Taylor was enjoying the confusion he +had brought. + +But Carrington had lost his self-control. + +Without a word, but with a smothered imprecation that issued gutturally +from between his clenched teeth, he swung a fist with bitter malignance +at Taylor's face. + +The blow did not land, for Taylor, self-possessed and alert, had been +expecting it. He slipped his head sidewise slightly, evading the fist by +a narrow margin, and, tensed, his muscles taut, he drove his own right +fist upward, heavily. + +Carrington, reeling forward under the impetus of the force he had +expended, ran fairly into the fist. It crashed to the point of his jaw +and he was unconscious, rigid, and upright on his feet in the instant +before he sagged and tumbled headlong out through the open doorway into +the street. + +With a bound, his face set in a mirthless grin, Taylor was after him, +landing beyond him in the windrowed dust at the edge of the sidewalk, +ready and willing to administer further punishment. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV--THE FACE OF A FIGHTER + + +Slouching in his chair, in an attitude of complete dejection, Neil +Norton was glumly digesting the dregs of defeat. + +The _Eagle_ office adjoined the courthouse. Both were one-story frame +structures, flimsy, with one thin wall between them; and to Norton's +ears as he sat with his unpleasant thoughts, came the sound of voices, +muffled, but resonant. Someone was speaking with force and insistence. +Norton attuned his ears to the voice. It was then he discovered there +was only one voice, and that Taylor's. + +He sat erect, both hands gripping the arms of his chair. Then he got up, +walked to the front door of the _Eagle_ office, and looked out. He was +just in time to see Carrington tumble out through the door of the +courthouse and land heavily on the sidewalk in front of the building. +Immediately afterward he saw Taylor follow. + +Norton exclaimed his astonishment, and he saw Taylor turn toward him, a +broad, mirthless grin on his face. + +"Good Heavens!" breathed Norton, "he's started a ruckus!" + +Taylor had not moved. He was looking at Norton when a man leaped from +the door of the courthouse, straight at him. It was Danforth, his face +hideous with rage. + +Taylor sensed the movement, wheeled, stumbled, and lost his balance just +as Danforth crashed against him. The two men went down in a heap into +the deep dust of the street, rolling over and over. + +Danforth's impetus had given him the initial advantage, and he was +making the most of it. His fists were working into Taylor's face as they +rolled in the dust, his arms swinging like flails. Taylor, caught almost +unprepared, could not get into a position to defend himself. He shielded +his face somewhat by holding his chin close to his chest and hunching +his shoulders up; but Danforth landed some blows. + +There came an instant, however, when Taylor's surprise over the assault +changed to resentment over the punishment he was receiving. He had +struck Carrington in self-defense, and he had not expected the attack by +Danforth. + +Norton, also surprised, saw that his friend was at a disadvantage, and +he was running forward to help him when he saw Taylor roll on top of +Danforth. + +To Norton's astonishment, Taylor did not seem to be in a vicious humor, +despite the blows Danforth had landed on him. Taylor came out of the +smother with a grin on his face, wide and exultant, and distinctly +visible to Norton in spite of the streaks of dust that covered it. +Taylor shook his head, his hair erupting a heavy cloud. Then he got up, +permitting Danforth to do likewise. + +Regaining his feet, Danforth threw himself headlong toward Taylor, +cursing, his face working with malignant rage. When Taylor hit him the +dust flew from Danforth's clothes as it rolls from a dirty carpet flayed +with a beater. Danforth halted, his knees sagged, his head wabbled. But +Taylor gave him a slight respite, and he came on again. + +This time Taylor met him with a smother of sharp, deadening uppercuts +that threw the man backward, his mouth open, his eyes closed. He fell, +sagging backward, his knees unjointed, without a sound. + +And now Norton was not the only spectator. Far up the street a man had +emerged from a doorway. He saw the erupting volcanoes of dust in the +street, and he ran back, shouting, "Fight! Fight!" + +Dawes had seen many fights, and had grown accustomed to them. But there +is always novelty in another, and long before Danforth had received the +blows that had rendered him inactive, nearly all the doors of Dawes's +buildings were vomiting men. They came, seemingly, in endless streams, +in groups, in twos and singly, eager, excited, all the streams +converging at the street in front of the courthouse. + +Mindful of the ethics in an affair of this kind, the crowd kept +considerately at a distance, permitting the fighting men to continue at +their work without interference, with plenty of room for their energetic +movements. + +Word ran from lip to lip that Taylor, stung by the knowledge that he had +been robbed of the office to which he had been elected, had attacked +Carrington and Danforth with the grim purpose of punishing them +personally for their misdeeds. + +Taylor was aware of the gathering crowd. When he had delivered the blows +that had finished his political rival, he saw the dense mass of men in +the street around him; and he felt that all Dawes had assembled. + +There was still no rancor in Taylor's heart; the same savage humor which +had driven him into the courthouse to acquaint Carrington and the others +with his knowledge of their designs, still gripped him. He had not meant +to force a fight, but neither had he any intention of permitting +Carrington and Danforth to inflict physical punishment upon him. + +But a malicious devil had seized him. He knew that what he had done +would be magnified and distorted by Carrington, Danforth, and the judge; +that they would charge him with the blame for it; that he faced the +probability of a jail sentence for defending himself. And he was +determined to complete the work he had started. + +Therefore, having disposed of Danforth, he grinned at the eager, excited +faces that hemmed him about, and wheeled toward Carrington. + +He was just in time. For Carrington, not badly hurt by Taylor's blow, +which had catapulted him out of the door of the courthouse, had been +standing back a little, awaiting an opportunity. The swiftness of +Taylor's movements had prevented interference by Carrington; but now, +with Danforth down, Carrington saw his chance. + +Without a word, Carrington lunged forward. They met with a shock that +caused the dry dust to splay and spume upward and outward in thin, +minute streaks like the leaping, spraying waters of a fountain. They +were lost, momentarily, in a haze, as the dust fell and enveloped them. + +They emerged from the blot presently, Carrington staggering, his chin on +his chest, his eyes glazed--Taylor crowding him closely. For while they +had been lost in the smother of dust, Taylor had landed a deadening +uppercut on the big man's chin. + +The big man's brain was befogged; and yet he still retained presence of +mind enough to shield his chin from another of those terrific blows. He +had crossed his arms over the lower part of his face, fending off +Taylor's fists with his elbows. + +A Danforth man in the crowd called on Carrington to "wallop" Taylor, and +the big man's answering grin indicated that he was not as badly hurt as +he seemed. + +Almost instantly he demonstrated that, for when Taylor, still following +him, momentarily left an opening, Carrington stepped quickly forward and +struck--his big arm flashing out with amazing rapidity. + +The heavy fist landed high on Taylor's head above the ear. It was not a +blow that would have finished the fight, even had it landed lower, but +it served to warn Taylor that his antagonist was still strong, and he +went in more warily. + +The advantage of the fight was all with Taylor. For Taylor was cool and +deliberate, while Carrington, raging over the blows he had received, and +in the clutch of a bitter desire to destroy his enemy, wasted much +energy in swinging wildly. + +The inaccuracy of Carrington's hitting amused Taylor; the men in the +crowd about him could see his lips writhing in a vicious smile at +Carrington's efforts. + +Carrington landed some blows. But he had lived luxuriously during the +later years of his life; his muscles had deteriorated, and though he was +still strong, his strength was not to be compared with that of the +out-of-door man whose clean and simple habits had toughened his muscles +until they were equal to any emergency. + +And so the battle went slowly but surely against Carrington. Fighting +desperately, and showing by the expression of his face that he knew his +chances were small, he tried to work at close quarters. He kept coming +in stubbornly, blocking some blows, taking others; and finally he +succeeded in getting his arms around Taylor. + +The crowd had by this time become intensely partisan. At first it had +been silent, but now it became clamorous. There were some Danforth men, +and knowing Danforth to be aligned with Carrington--because, it seemed +to them, Carrington was taking Danforth's end of the fight--they howled +for the big man to "give it to him!" And they grew bitter when they saw +that despite Carrington's best efforts, and their own verbal support of +him, Carrington was doomed to defeat. + +Taylor's admirers vastly outnumbered Carrington's. They did not find it +necessary to shout advice to their champion; but they shouted and roared +with approval as Taylor, driving forward, the grin still on his face, +striking heavily and blocking deftly, kept his enemy retreating before +him. + +Carrington, locking his arms around Taylor, hugged him desperately for +some seconds--until he recovered his breath, and until his head cleared, +and he could fix objects firmly in his vision; and then he heaved +mightily, swung Taylor from his feet and tried to throw him. Taylor's +feet could get no leverage, but his arms were still free, and with both +of them he hammered the big man's head until Carrington, in insane rage, +threw Taylor from him. + +Taylor landed a little off balance, and before he could set himself, +Carrington threw himself forward. He swung malignantly, the blow landing +glancingly on Taylor's head, staggering him. His feet struck an +obstruction and he went to one knee, Carrington striking at him as he +tried to rise. + +The blow missed, Carrington turning clear around from the force of the +blow and tumbling headlong into the dust near Taylor. + +They clambered to their feet at the same instant, and in the next they +came together with a shock that made them both reel backward. And then, +still grinning, Taylor stepped lightly forward. Paying no attention to +Carrington's blows, he shot in several short, terrific, deadening +uppercuts that landed fairly on the big man's chin. Carrington's hands +dropped to his sides, his knees doubled and he fell limply forward into +the dust of the street where he lay, huddled and unconscious, while +turmoil raged over him. + +For the Danforth men in the crowd had yielded to rage over the defeat of +their favorites. They had seen Danforth go down under the terrific +punishment meted out to him by Taylor; they had seen Carrington suffer +the same fate. Several of them drove forward, muttering profane threats. + +Norton, pale and watchful, fearing just such a contingency, shoved +forward to the center, shouting: + +"Hold on, men! None of that! It's a fair fight! Keep off, there--do you +hear?" + +A score of Taylor men surged forward to Norton's side; the crowd split, +forming two sections--one group of men massing near Norton, the other +congregating around a tall man who seemed to be the leader of their +faction. A number of other men--the cautious and faint-hearted element +which had no personal animus to spur it to participation in what seemed +to threaten to develop into a riot--retreated a short distance up the +street and stood watching, morbidly curious. + +But though violence, concerted and deadly, was imminent, it was delayed. +For Taylor had not yet finished, and the crowd was curiously following +his movements. + +Taylor was a picturesquely ludicrous figure. He was covered with dust +from head to foot; his face was streaked with it; his hair was full of +it; it had been ground into his cheeks, and where blood from a cut on +his forehead had trickled to his right temple, the dust was matted until +it resembled crimson mud. + +And yet the man was still smiling. It was not a smile at which most men +care to look when its owner's attention is definitely centered upon +them; it was a smile full of grimly humorous malice and determination; +the smile of the fighting man who cares nothing for consequences. + +The concerted action which had threatened was, by the tacit consent of +the prospective belligerents, postponed for the instant. The gaze of +every partisan--and of all the non-partisans--was directed at Taylor. + +He had not yet finished. For an instant he stood looking down at +Carrington and Danforth--both now beginning to recover from their +chastisement, and sitting up in the dust gazing dizzily about them--then +with a chuckle, grim and malicious, Taylor dove toward the door of the +courthouse, where Littlefield was standing. + +The judge had been stunned by the ferocity of the action he had +witnessed. Whatever judicial dignity had been his had been whelmed by +the paralyzing fear that had gripped him, and he stood, holding to the +door-jambs, nerveless, motionless. + +He saw Taylor start toward him; he saw a certain light leaping in the +man's eyes, and he cringed and cried out in dread. + +But he had not the power to retreat from the menace that was approaching +him. He threw out his hands impotently as Taylor reached him, as though +to protest physically. But Taylor ignored the movement, reaching upward, +a dusty finger and thumb closing on the judge's right ear. + +There was a jerk, a shrill cry of pain from the judge, and then he was +led into the street, near where Carrington and Danforth had fallen, and +twisted ungently around until he faced the crowd. + +"Men," said Taylor, in the silence that greeted him as he stood erect, +his finger and thumb still gripping the judge's ear, "Judge Littlefield +is going to say a few words to you. He's going to tell you who started +this ruckus--so there won't be any nonsense about actions in contempt of +court. Deals like this are pulled off better when the court takes the +public into its confidence. Who started this thing, judge? Did I?" + +"No--o," was Littlefield's hesitating reply. + +"Who did start it?" + +"Mr. Carrington." + +"You saw him?" + +"Yes." + +"What did he do?" + +"He--er--struck at you." + +"And Danforth?" + +"He attacked you while you were in the street." + +"And I'm not to blame?" + +"No." + +Taylor grinned and released the judge's ear. "That's all, gentlemen," he +said; "court is dismissed!" + +The judge said nothing as he walked toward the door of the courthouse. +Nor did Carrington and Danforth speak as they followed the judge. Both +Carrington and Danforth seemed to have had enough fighting for one day. + +The victor looked around at the faces in the crowd that were turned to +his, and his grin grew eloquent. + +"Looks like we're going to have a mighty peaceable administration, +boys!" he said. His grin included Norton, at whom he deliberately +winked. Then he turned, mounted his horse--which had stood docilely near +by during the excitement, and which whinnied as he approached it--and +rode down the street to the Dawes bank, before which he dismounted. Then +he went to his rooms on the floor above, washed and changed his clothes, +and attended to the bruises on his face. Later, looking out of the +window, he saw the crowd slowly dispersing; and still later he opened +the door on Neil Norton, who came in, deep concern on his face. + +"You've started something, Squint. After you left I went into the +_Eagle_ office. The partition is thin, and I could hear Carrington +raising hell in there. You look out; he'll try to play some dog's trick +on you now! There's going to be the devil to pay in this man's town!" + +Taylor laughed. "How long does it take for a sprained ankle to mend, +Norton?" + +Norton looked sharply at Taylor's feet. + +"You sprain one of yours?" he asked. + +"Lord, no!" denied Taylor. "I was just wondering. How long?" he +insisted. + +"About two weeks. Say, Squint, your brain wasn't injured in that ruckus, +was it?" he asked solicitously. + +"It's as good as it ever was." + +"I don't believe it!" declared Norton. "Here you've started something +serious, and you go to rambling about sprained ankles." + +"Norton," said Taylor slowly, "a sprained ankle is a mighty serious +thing--when you've forgotten which one it was!" + +"What in----" + +"And," resumed Taylor, "when you don't know but that she took particular +pains to make a mental note of it. If I'd wrap the left one up, now, and +she knew it was the right one that had been hurt--or if I'd wrap up the +right one, and she knew it was the wrong one, why she'd likely----" + +_"She?"_ groaned Norton, looking at his friend with bulging eyes that +were haunted by a fear that Taylor's brain _had_ cracked under the +strain of the excitement he had undergone. He remembered now, that +Taylor _had_ acted in a peculiar manner during the fight; that he had +grinned all through it when he should have been in deadly earnest. + +"Plumb loco!" he muttered. + +And then he saw Taylor grinning broadly at him; and he was suddenly +struck with the conviction that Taylor was not insane; that he was in +possession of some secret that he was trying to confide to his friend, +and that he had begun obliquely. Norton drew a deep breath of relief. + +"Lord!" he sighed, "you sure had me going. And you don't know which +ankle you sprained?" + +"I've clean forgot. And now she'll find out that I've lied to her." + +"_She?_" said Norton significantly. + +"Marion Harlan," grinned Taylor. + +Norton caught his breath with a gasp. "You mean you've fallen in love +with her? And that you've made her--Oh, Lord! What a situation! Don't +you know her uncle and Carrington are in cahoots in this deal?" + +"It's my recollection that I told you about that the day I got back," +Taylor reminded him. And then Taylor told him the story of the bandaged +ankle. + +When Taylor concluded, Norton lay back in his chair and regarded his +friend blankly. + +"And you mean to tell me that all the time you were fighting Carrington +and Danforth you were thinking about that ankle?" + +"Mostly all the time," Taylor admitted. + +Norton made a gesture of impotence. "Well," he said, "if a man can keep +his mind on a girl while two men are trying to knock hell out of him, +he's sure got a bad case. And all I've got to say is that you're going +to have a lovely ruckus!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV--GLOOM--AND PLANS + + +Elam Parsons sat all day on the wide porch of the big house nursing his +resentment. He was hunched up in the chair, his shoulders were slouched +forward, his chin resting on the wings of his high, starched collar, his +lips in a pout, his eyes sullen and gleaming with malevolence. + +Parsons was beginning to recover from his astonishment over the attack +Carrington had made on him. He saw now that he should have known +Carrington was the kind of man he had shown himself to be; for now that +Parsons reflected, he remembered little things that Carrington had done +which should have warned him. + +Carrington had never been a real friend. Carrington had used him--that +was it; Carrington had made him think he was an important member of the +partnership, and he had thought so himself. Now he understood +Carrington. Carrington was selfish and cruel--more, Carrington was a +beast and an ingrate. For it had been Parsons who had made it possible +for Carrington to succeed--for he had used Parsons' money all +along--having had very little himself. + +So Parsons reflected, knowing, however, that he had not the courage to +oppose Carrington. He feared Carrington; he had always feared him, but +now his fear had become terror--and hate. For Parsons could still feel +the man's fingers at his throat; and as he sat there on the porch his +own fingers stroked the spot, while in his heart flamed a great yearning +for vengeance. + + * * * * * + +Marion Harlan had got up this morning feeling rather more interested in +the big house than she had felt the day before--or upon any day that she +had occupied it. She, like Parsons, had awakened with a presentiment of +impending pleasure. But, unlike Parsons, she found it impossible to +definitely select an outstanding incident or memory upon which to base +her expectations. + +Her anticipations seemed to be broad and inclusive--like a clear, +unobstructed sunset, with an effulgent glow that seemed to embrace the +whole world, warming it, bringing a great peace. + +For upon this morning, suddenly awakening to the pure, white light that +shone into her window, she was conscious of a feeling of satisfaction +with life that was strange and foreign--a thing that she had never +before experienced. Always there had been a shadow of the past to darken +her vision of the future, but this morning that shadow seemed to have +vanished. + +For a long time she could not understand, and she snuggled up in bed, +her brow thoughtfully furrowed, trying to solve the mystery. It was not +until she got up and was looking out of the window at the mighty basin +in which--like a dot of brown in a lake of emerald green--clustered the +buildings of the Arrow ranch, that knowledge in an overwhelming flood +assailed her. Then a crimson flush stained her cheeks, her eyes glowed +with happiness, and she clasped her hands and stood rigid for a long +time. + +She knew now. A name sprang to her lips, and she murmured it aloud, +softly: "Quinton Taylor." + +Later she appeared to Martha--a vision that made the negro woman gasp +with amazement. + +"What happen to you, honey? You-all git good news? You look light an' +airy--like you's goin' to fly!" + +"I've decided to like this place--after all, Martha. I--I thought at +first that I wouldn't, but I have changed my mind." + +Martha looked sharply at her, a sidelong glance that had quite a little +subtle knowledge in it. + +"I reckon that 'Squint' Taylor make a good many girls change their mind, +honey--he, he, he!" + +"Martha!" + +"Doan you git 'sturbed, now, honey. Martha shuah knows the signs. I done +discover the signs a long while ago--when I fall in love with a worfless +nigger in St. Louis. He shuah did captivate me, honey. I done try to +wiggle out of it--but 'tain't no use. Face the fac's, Martha, face the +fac's, I tell myself--an' I done it. Ain't no use for to try an' fool +the fac's, honey--not one bit of use! The ol' fac' he look at you an' +say: 'Doan you try to wiggle 'way from me; I's heah, an' heah I's goin' +to stay!' That Squint man ain't no lady-killer, honey, but he's shuah a +he-man from the groun' up!" + +Marion escaped Martha as quickly as she could; and after breakfast began +systematically to rearrange the furniture to suit her artistic ideals. + +Martha helped, but not again did Martha refer to Quinton +Taylor--something in Marion's manner warned her that she could trespass +too far in that direction. + +Some time during the morning Marion saw Parsons ride up and dismount at +the stable door; and later she heard him cross the porch. She looked out +of one of the front windows and saw him huddled in a big rocking-chair, +and she wondered at the depression that sat so heavily upon him. + +The girl did not pause in her work long enough to partake of the lunch +that Martha set for her--so interested was she; and therefore she did +not know whether or not Parsons came into the house. But along about +four o'clock in the afternoon, wearied of her task, Marion entered the +kitchen. From Martha she learned that Parsons had not stirred from the +chair on the porch during the entire day. + +Concerned, Marion went out to him. + +Parsons did not hear her; he was still moodily and resentfully reviewing +the incident of the morning. + +He started when the girl placed a gentle hand on one of his shoulders, +seeming to cringe from her touch; then he looked up at her suddenly. + +"What do you want?" he demanded. + +"Don't you feel well, Uncle Elam?" she inquired. Her hand rose from his +shoulder to his head, and her fingers ran through his hair with a light, +gentle touch that made him shiver with repugnance. There were times when +Parsons hated this living image of his brother-in-law with a fervor that +seemed to sear his heart. Now, however, pity for himself had rather +dulled the edge of his hatred. A calamity had befallen him; he was +crushed under it; and the sympathy of one whom he hated was not entirely +undesirable. + +No sense of guilt assailed the man. He had never betrayed his hate to +her, and he would not do so now. That wasn't his way. He had always +masked it from her, making her think he felt an affection for her which +was rather the equal of that which custom required a man should feel for +a niece. Yet he had always hated her. + +"I'm not exactly well," he muttered. "It's the damned atmosphere, I +suppose." + +"Martha tells me that it _does_ affect some persons," said the girl. +"And lack of appetite seems to be one of the first symptoms--in your +case. For Martha tells me you have not eaten." + +The girl's soft voice irritated Parsons. + +"Go away!" he ordered crossly; "I want to think!" + +It was not the first time the girl had endured his moods. She smiled +tolerantly, and softly withdrew, busying herself inside the house. + +Parsons did not eat supper; he slunk off to bed and lay for hours in his +room brooding over the thing that had happened to him. + +He got up early the next morning, mounted his horse and left the house +before Marion could get a glimpse of him. It was still rather early when +he reached Dawes. There, in a saloon, he overheard the story of the +fight in the street in front of the courthouse, and with tingling +eagerness and venomous satisfaction he listened to a man telling another +of the terrible punishment inflicted upon Carrington by Quinton Taylor. + +Parsons did not go to see Carrington, for he feared a repetition of +Carrington's savage rage, should he permit the latter to observe his +satisfaction over the incident of yesterday. He knew he could not face +Carrington and conceal the gloating triumph that gripped him. + +So he returned to the big house. And for the greater part of the day he +sat in the rocker on the porch, his soul filled with a vindictive joy. + +He ate heartily, too; and his manner indicated that he had quite +recovered from the indisposition that had affected him the previous day. +He even smiled at Marion when she told him he was "looking better." + +But his bitter yearning for vengeance had not been satisfied by the +knowledge that Taylor had thrashed Carrington. He knew, now that +Carrington had ruthlessly cast him aside, that he was no longer to +figure importantly in the scheme to loot the town; he knew that it was +Carrington's intention to rob him of every dollar he had entrusted to +the man. He knew, too, that Carrington would not hesitate to murder him +should he offer the slightest objection, or should he make any visible +resistance to Carrington's plans. + +But Parsons was determined to be revenged upon Carrington, and he was +convinced that he could secure his revenge without boldly announcing his +plans. + +As for that, he had no plans. But while sitting in the rocker on the +porch during the long afternoon, the vindictive light in his eyes +suddenly deepened, and he grinned evilly. + +That night after supper he exerted himself to be agreeable to Marion. +During the interval between sunset and darkness he walked with the girl +along the edge of the butte above the big valley which held the +irrigation dam. And while standing in a timber grove at the edge of the +butte, he questioned her deftly about the news she had received of her +father, and she told him of her visits to the Arrow. + +He had watched her narrowly, and he saw the flush that came into her +cheeks each time Taylor was mentioned. + +"He is a remarkably forceful man," he observed once, when he mentioned +Taylor. "And if I am not mistaken, Carrington is going to have his hands +full with him." + +"What do you mean? Do you mean that Mr. Taylor is not in sympathy with +Carrington's plans concerning Dawes?" + +"I mean just that. And if you had happened to be in Dawes yesterday you +might have witnessed a demonstration of Taylor's lack of sympathy with +Carrington's plans. For"--and now Parsons' eyes gleamed +maliciously--"after Judge Littlefield, acting under instructions from +the governor, had refused to administer the oath of office to +Taylor--inducting his rival, Danforth, into the position instead----" + +Here the girl interrupted, and Parsons was forced to relate the tale in +its entirety. + +"Uncle Elam," she said when Parsons paused, "are you certain that +Carrington's intentions toward Dawes are honorable?" + +Parsons smiled crookedly behind a palm, and then uncertainly at the +girl. + +"I don't know, Marion. Carrington is a rather hard man to gauge. He has +always been mighty uncommunicative and headstrong. He is getting +ruthless and domineering, too. I am rather afraid--that is, my dear, I +am beginning to believe we made a mistake in Carrington. He doesn't seem +to be the sort of man we thought him to be. If he were like that man +Taylor, now----" He paused and glanced covertly at the girl, noting the +glow in her eyes. + +"Yes," he resumed, "Taylor _is_ a man. My dear," he added +confidentially, "there is going to be trouble in Dawes--I am convinced +of that; trouble between Carrington and Taylor. Taylor thrashed +Carrington yesterday, but Carrington isn't the kind to give up. I have +withdrawn from active participation in the affairs that brought me here. +I am not going to take sides. I don't care who wins. That may sound +disloyal to you--but look here!" He showed her several black and blue +marks on his throat. "Carrington did that--the day before yesterday. +Choked me." His voice quavered with self-pity, whereat the girl caught +her breath in quick sympathy and bent to examine the marks. When she +stood erect again Parsons saw her eyes flashing with indignation, and he +knew that whatever respect the girl had had for Carrington had been +forever destroyed. + +"Oh!" she said, "why did he choke you?" + +"Because I frankly told him I did not approve of his methods," lied +Parsons, smirking virtuously. "He showed his hand, unmistakably, and his +methods mean evil to Dawes." + +The girl stiffened. "I shall go directly to Dawes and tell Carrington +what I think of him!" she declared. + +"No--for God's sake!" protested Parsons. "He would kill me! He would +know, instantly, that I had been talking. My life would not be worth a +snap of your fingers! Don't let on that I have said _anything_ to you! +Let him come here, and treat him as you have always treated him. But +warn Taylor. Taylor may know something--it is certain he suspects +something--but Taylor will not know everything. Make a friend of Taylor, +my dear. Go to him--visit his ranch--as much as you like. But if +Carrington says anything to you about going there, tell him I opposed +it. That will mislead him." + +When Parsons and the girl reached the house, Parsons stood near the +kitchen door and watched her enter. He did not go in, himself; he walked +around to the front and sat on the edge of the porch, grinning +maliciously. For he knew something of the tortures of jealousy, and he +was convinced that he had added something to the antagonism that already +had been the cause of one clash between Carrington and Taylor. And +Parsons was convinced that both he and Carrington had made a mistake in +planning to loot Dawes; that despite the connivance of the governor and +Judge Littlefield, Quinton Taylor would defeat them. + +Parsons might lose his money; but the point was that Carrington would +also lose. And if Parsons was wise and cautious--and did not antagonize +Taylor--there was a chance that he might gain more through his +friendship--a professed friendship--for Taylor, than he would have won +had he been loyal to Carrington. At the least, he would have the +satisfaction of working against Carrington in the dark. And to a man of +Parsons' character that was a satisfaction not to be lightly considered. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI--A MAN BECOMES A BRUTE + + +During the days that Parsons had passed nursing his resentment, +Carrington had been busy. Despite the bruises that marked his face +(which, by the way, a clever barber had disguised until they were hardly +visible) Carrington appeared in public as though nothing had happened. + +The fight at the courthouse had aroused the big man to the point of +volcanic action. The lust for power that had seized him; the implacable +resolution to rule, to win, to have his own way in all things; his +passionate hatred of Taylor; his determination to destroy anyone who got +in his path--these were the forces that drove him. + +Taylor had brought matters to a sudden and unexpected crisis. Carrington +had planned to begin his campaign differently, to insinuate himself into +the political life of Dawes; and he had gone to the courthouse intending +to keep in the background, but Taylor had forced him into the open. + +Therefore, Carrington had no choice, and he instantly accepted Taylor's +challenge. After reentering the courthouse, following the departure of +Taylor, Carrington had insisted that Judge Littlefield have Taylor taken +into custody on a contempt of court charge. Littlefield had flatly +refused, and the resulting argument had been what Neil Norton had +overheard. But Littlefield had not yielded to Carrington's insistence. + +"That would be ridiculous, after what has happened," the judge declared. +"The whole country would be laughing at us. More, you can see that +public sentiment is with Taylor. And he forced me to publicly admit that +you were to blame. I simply won't do it!" + +"All right," grinned Carrington, darkly; "I'll find another way to get +him!" + +And so for the instant Carrington dismissed Taylor from his thoughts, +devoting his attention to the task of organizing his forces for the +campaign he was to make against the town. + +He held many conferences with Danforth and with three of five men who +had been elected to the new city council--that political body having +also been provided under the new charter. Three of the +members--Cartwright, Ellis, and Warden--were Danforth men, cogs of that +secret machine which for more than a year Danforth had been perfecting +at Carrington's orders. + +Some officials were appointed by Mayor Danforth--at Carrington's +direction; a chief of police, a municipal judge, a town clerk, a +treasurer--and a host of other office-holders inevitable to a system of +government which permits the practice. + +Carrington dominated every conference; he made it plain that he was to +rule Dawes--that Danforth and all the others were subject to his orders. + +Only one day was required to perfect Carrington's organization, and on +Thursday evening, with everything running smoothly, Carrington appeared +in the palm-decorated foyer of the Castle, a smugly complacent smile on +his face. For he had won the first battle in the war he was to wage. To +be sure, he had been worsted in a physical encounter with Taylor, as the +bruises still on his face indicated, but he intended to repay Taylor for +that thrashing--and his lips went into an ugly pout when his thoughts +dwelt upon the man. + +He had almost forgotten Parsons; he did not think of the other until +about eight o'clock in the evening, when, with Danforth in the barroom +of the Castle, Danforth mentioned his name. Then Carrington remembered +that he had not seen Parsons since he had throttled the man. He ordered +another drink, not permitting Danforth to see his eyes, which were +glowing with a flame that would have betrayed him. + +"This is good-night," he said to Danforth as he raised his glass. "I've +got to see Parsons tonight." + +Yet it was not Parsons who was uppermost in his mind when he left the +Castle, mounted on his horse; the face of Marion Harlan was in the +mental picture he drew as he rode toward the Huggins house, and there +ran in his brain a reckless thought--which had been uttered to Parsons +at the instant before his fingers had closed around the latter's throat +a few days before: + +"I was born a thousand years too late, Parsons! I am a robber baron +brought down to date--modernized. I believe that in me flows the blood +of a pirate, a savage, or an ancient king. I have all the instincts of a +tribal chief whose principles are to rule or ruin! I'll have no law out +here but my own desires!" + +And tonight Carrington's desires were for the girl who had accompanied +him to Dawes; the girl who had stirred his passions as no woman had ever +stirred them, and who--now that he had seized the town's government--was +to be as much his vassal as Parsons, Danforth--or any of them. He +grinned as he rode toward the Huggins house--a grin that grew to a laugh +as he rode up the drive toward the house; low, vibrant, hideous with its +threat of unrestrained passion. + +The night had been too beautiful for Marion Harlan to remain indoors, +and so, after darkness had swathed the big valley back of the house, she +had slipped out, noting that her uncle had gone again to the chair on +the front porch. She had walked with Parsons along the butte above the +valley, but she wanted to be alone now, to view the beauties without +danger of interruption. Above all, she wanted to think. + +For the news that Parsons had communicated to her had affected her +strangely; she felt that her uncle's revelations of Carrington's +character amounted to a vindication of her own secret opinion of the +man. + +He had been a volcanic wooer, and she had distrusted him all along. She +had never permitted that distrust to appear on the surface, however, out +of respect for her uncle--for she had always thought he and Carrington +were firm friends. She saw now, though, that she had always suspected +Carrington of being just what her uncle's revelation had proved him to +be--a ruthless, selfish, domineering brute of a man, who would have no +mercy upon any person who got in his way. + +Reflecting upon his actions during the days she had known him in +Westwood--and upon his glances when sometimes she had caught him looking +at her, and at other times when his gaze--bold, and flaming with naked +passion--had been fixed upon her, she shuddered, comparing him with +Quinton Taylor, quiet, polite, and considerate. + +Loyally, she hated Carrington now for the things he had done to Parsons. +She mentally vowed that the next time she saw Carrington she would tell +him exactly what she thought of him, regardless of the effect her frank +opinion might have on her uncle's fortunes. + +But still she had not come to the edge of the butte for the purpose of +devoting her entire thoughts to Carrington; there was another face that +obtruded insistently in the mental pictures she drew--Quinton Taylor's. +And she found a grass knoll at the edge of the butte, twisted around so +that she could look over the edge of the butte and into the big basin +that slumbered somberly in the mysterious darkness, staring intently +until she discovered a pin-point of light gleaming out of it. That +light, she knew, came from one of the windows of the Arrow ranchhouse, +and she watched it long, wondering what Taylor would be doing about now. + +For she was keeping no secrets from herself tonight. She knew that she +liked Taylor better than she had ever liked any man of her acquaintance. + +At first she had told herself that her liking for the man had been +aroused merely because he had been good to her father. But she knew now +that she liked Taylor for himself. There was no mistaking the nameless +longing that had taken possession of her; the insistent and yearning +desire to be near him; the regret that had affected her when she had +left the Arrow at the end of her last visit. Taylor would never know how +near she had come to accepting his invitation to share the Arrow with +him. Had it not been for propriety--the same propriety which had +inseparably linked itself with all her actions--which she must observe +punctiliously despite the fact that girls of her acquaintance had +violated it openly without hurt or damage to their reputations; had it +not been that she must bend to its mandates, because of the shadow that +had always lurked near her, she would have gone to live at the Arrow. + +For she knew that she could have stayed at the Arrow without danger. +Taylor was a gentleman--she knew--and Taylor would never offend her in +the manner the world affected to dread--and suspect. But she could not +do the things other girls could do--that was why she had refused +Taylor's invitation. + +She had thought she had conquered her aversion for the big house--the +aversion that had been aroused because of the story Martha had told her +regarding its former inhabitants, but that aversion recurred to her with +disquieting insistence as she sat there on the edge of the butte. + +It seemed to her that the serpent of immorality which had dragged its +trail across hers so many times was never to leave her, and she found +herself wondering about the house and about Carrington and her uncle. + +Carrington had bought the horse for her--Billy; and she had accepted it +after some consideration. But what if Carrington had bought the house? +That would mean--why, the people of Dawes, if they discovered it--if +Carrington had bought it--might place their own interpretation upon the +fact that she was living in it. And the interpretation of the people of +Dawes would be no more charitable than that of the people of Westwood! +They would think---- + +She got up quickly, her face pale, and started toward the house, +determined to ask her uncle. + +Walking swiftly toward the front porch, where she had seen Parsons go, +she remembered that Parsons had told her he had arranged for the house, +but that might not mean that he had personally bought it. + +She meant to find out, and if Carrington owned the house, she would not +stay in it another night--not even tonight. + +She was walking fast when she reached the edge of the porch--almost +running; and when she got to the nearest corner, she saw that the porch +was quite vacant; Parsons must have gone in. + +She stood for an instant at the porch-edge, a beam of silvery moonlight +streaming upon her through a break in the trees overhead, convinced that +Parsons had gone to bed; and convinced, likewise, that, were she to +disturb him now to ask the question that was in her mind, he would laugh +at her. + +She decided she would wait until the morning, and she was about to +return to the edge of the butte, when she realized that it had grown +rather late. She had not noticed how quickly the time had fled. + +She turned, intending to enter the house from one of the rear doors +through which she had emerged, when a sound reached her ears--the rapid +drumming of a horse's hoofs. She wheeled, facing the direction from +which the sound came--and saw Carrington riding toward her, not more +than fifty feet distant. + +He saw her at the instant her gaze rested on him--an instant before, she +surmised, for there was a huge grin on his face as she turned to him. + +He was at her side before she could obey a sudden impulse to run--for +she did not wish to talk to him tonight--and in another instant he had +dismounted and was standing close to her. + +"All alone, eh?" he laughed. "And enjoying the moon? Do you know that +you made a ravishing picture, standing there with the light shining on +you? I saw you as you started to turn, and I shall remember the picture +all my life! You are more beautiful than ever, girl!" + +Carrington was breathing fast. The girl thought he had been riding hard. +But, despite that explanation for the repressed excitement under which +he seemed to be laboring, the girl thought she detected the presence of +restrained passion in his eyes, and she shrank back a little. + +She had often seen passion in his eyes, identical with what glowed in +them now, but she had always felt a certain immunity, a masterfulness +over him that had permitted her to feel that she could repulse him at +will. Now, however, she felt a sudden, cringing dread of him. The dread, +no doubt, was provoked by her uncle's revelation of the man's character; +and, for the first time during her acquaintance with Carrington, she +felt a fear of him, and became aware of the overpowering force and +virility of the man. + +Her voice was a little tremulous when she answered: + +"I was looking for Uncle Elam. He must have gone in." + +His face was not very distinct to her, for he was standing in a shadow +cast by a near-by tree, and she could not see the bruises that marred +the flesh, but it seemed to her that his face had never seemed so +repulsive. And the significance of his grin made her gasp. + +"That's good. I'm glad he did go in; I did not come to see Parsons." + +She had meant to take him to task for what he had done to her uncle, but +there was something in his voice that made thoughts of defending Parsons +seem futile--a need gone in the necessity to conserve her voice and +strength for an imminent crisis. + +For Carrington's voice, thick and vibrant, smote her with a presentiment +of danger to herself. She looked sharply at him, saw that his face was +red and bloated with passion and, taking a backward step, she said +shortly: + +"I must go in. I--I promised Martha----" + +His voice interrupted her; she felt one of his hands on her arm, the +fingers gripping it tightly. + +"No, you don't," he said, hoarsely; "I came here to have a talk with +you, and I mean to have it!" + +"What do you mean?" she asked. She was rigid and erect, but she could +not keep the quaver out of her voice. + +"Playing the innocent, eh?" he mocked, his voice dry and light. "You've +played innocent ever since I saw you the first time. It doesn't go +anymore. You're going to face the music." He thrust his face close to +hers and the expression of his eyes thrilled her with horror. + +"What do you suppose I brought you here for?" he demanded. "I'll tell +you. I bought the house for you. Parsons knows why--Dawes knows +why--everybody knows. You ought to know--you shall know." He laughed, +sneeringly. "Westwood could tell you, or the woman who lived in the +Huggins house before you came. Martha could tell you--she lived +here----" + +He heard her draw her breath sharply and he mocked her, gloating: + +"Ah, Martha has told you! Well, you've got to face the music, I tell +you! I've got things going my way here--the way I've wanted things to go +since I've been old enough to realize what life is. I've got the +governor, the mayor, the judges--everything--with me, and I'm going to +rule. I'm going to rule, my way! If you are sensible, you'll have things +pretty easy; but if you're going to try to balk me you're going to +pay--plenty!" + +She did not answer, standing rigid in his grasp, her face chalk-white. +He did not notice her pallor, nor how she stood, paralyzed with dread; +and he thought because of her silence that she was going to passively +submit. He thought victory was near, and he was going to be magnanimous +in his moment of triumph. + +His grip on her arm relaxed and he leaned forward to whisper: + +"That's the girl. No fuss, no heroics. We'll get along; we'll----" + +Her right hand struck his face--a full sweep of the arm behind +it--burning, stinging, sending him staggering back a little from its +very unexpectedness. And before he could make a move to recover his +equilibrium she had gone like a flash of light, as elusive as the +moonbeam in which she had stood when he had first come upon her. + +He cursed gutturally and leaped forward, running with great leaps toward +the rear of the house, where he had seen her vanish. He reached the door +through which she had gone, finding it closed and locked against him. +Stepping back a little, he hurled himself against the door, sending it +crashing from its hinges, so that he tumbled headlong into the room and +sprawled upon the floor. He was up in an instant, tossing the wreck of +the door from him, breathing heavily, cursing frightfully; for he had +completely lost his senses and was in the grip of an insane rage over +the knowledge that she had tricked him. + +Parsons heard the crash as the door went from its hinges. He got out of +bed in a tremor of fear and opened the door of his room, peering into +the big room that adjoined the dining-room. From the direction of the +kitchen he caught a thin shaft of light--from the kerosene-lamp that +Martha had placed on a table for Marion's convenience. A big form +blotted out the light, casting a huge, gigantic shadow; and Parsons saw +the shadow on the ceiling of the room into which he looked. + +Huge as the shadow was, Parsons had no difficulty in recognizing it as +belonging to Carrington; and with chattering teeth Parsons quickly +closed his door, locked it, and stood against it, his knees knocking +together. + +Martha, too, had heard the crash. She bounded out of bed and ran to the +door of her room, swinging it wide, for instinct told her something had +happened to Marion. Her room was closer to the kitchen, and she saw +Carrington plainly, as he was rising from the debris. And she was just +in time to see Marion slipping through the doorway of her own room. And +by the time Carrington got to his feet, Martha had heard Marion's door +click shut, heard the lock snap home. + +Martha instantly closed the door of her own room, fastened it and ran to +another door that connected her room with Marion's. She swung that door +open and looked into the girl's room; heard the girl stifle a +shriek--for the girl thought Carrington was coming upon her from that +direction--and then Martha was at the girl's side, whispering to +her--excitedly comforting her. + +"The damn trash--houndin' you this way! He ain' goin' to hurt you, +honey--not one bit!" + +Outside the door they could hear Carrington walking about in the room. +There came to the ears of the two women the scratch of a match, and then +a steady glimmer of light streaked into the room from the bottom of the +door, and they knew Carrington had lighted a lamp. A little later, while +Martha stood, her arms around the girl, who leaned against the negro +woman, very white and still, they heard Carrington talking with Parsons. +They heard Parsons protesting, Carrington cursing him. + +"He ain' goin' to git you, honey," whispered Martha. "That man come heah +the firs' day, an' I knowed he's a rapscallion." She pointed upward, to +where a trap-door, partly open, appeared in the ceiling of the room. + +"There's the attic, honey. I'll boost you, an' you go up there an' hide +from that wild man. You got to, for that worfless Parsons am tellin' him +which room you's in. You hurry--you heah me!" + +She helped the girl upward, and stood listening until the trap-door +grated shut. Then she turned and grinned at the door that led into the +big room adjoining the kitchen. Carrington was at it, his shoulder +against it; Martha could hear him cursing. + +"Open up, here!" came Carrington's voice through the door, muffled, but +resonant. "Open the door, damn you, or I'll tear it down!" + +"Tear away, white man!" giggled Martha softly. "They's a big 'sprise +waitin' you when you git in heah!" + +For an instant following Carrington's curses and demands there was a +silence. It was broken by a splintering crash, and the negro woman saw +the door split so that the light from the other room streaked through +it. But the door held, momentarily. Then Carrington again lunged against +it and it burst open, pieces of the lock flying across the room. + +This time Carrington did not fall with the door, but reeled through the +opening, erect, big, a vibrant, mirthless laugh on his lips. + +The light from the other room streamed in past him, shining full upon +Martha, who stood, her hands on her hips, looking at the man. + +Carrington was disconcerted by the presence of Martha when he had +expected to see Marion. He stepped back, cursing. + +Martha giggled softly. + +"What you doin' in my room, man; just when I'se goin' to retiah? You git +out o' heah--quick! Yo' heah me? Yo' ain't got no business bustin' my +door down!" + +"Bah!" Carrington's voice was malignant with baffled rage. With one step +he was at Martha's side, his hands on her throat, his muscles rigid and +straining. + +"Where's Marion Harlan?" he demanded. "Tell me, you black devil, or I'll +choke hell out of you!" + +Martha was not frightened; she giggled mockingly. + +"That girl bust in heah a minute ago; then she bust out ag'in, runnin' +fit to kill herself. I reckon by this time she's done throw herself off +the butte--rather than have you git her!" + +Carrington shoved Martha from him, so that she staggered and fell; and +with a bound he was through the door that led into Martha's room. + +The negro woman did not move. She sat on the floor, a malicious grin on +her face, listening to Carrington as he raged through the house. + +Once, about five minutes after he left, Carrington returned and stuck +his head into the room. Martha still sat where Carrington had thrown +her. She did not care what Carrington did to the house, so long as he +was ignorant of the existence of the trap-door. + +And Carrington did not notice the door. For an hour Martha heard him +raging around the house, opening and slamming doors and overturning +furniture. Once when she did not hear him for several minutes, she got +up and went to one of the windows. She saw him, out at the stable, +looking in at the horses. + +Then he returned to the house, and Martha resumed her place on the +floor. Later, she heard Carrington enter the house again, and after that +she heard Parsons' voice, raised in high-terrored protest. Then there +was another silence. Again Martha looked out of a window. This time she +saw Carrington on his horse, riding away. + +But for half an hour Martha remained at the window. She feared +Carrington's departure was a subterfuge, and she was not mistaken. For a +little later Carrington returned, riding swiftly. He slid from his horse +at a little distance from the house and ran toward it. Martha was in the +kitchen when he came in. He did not speak to her as he came into the +room, but passed her and again made a search of the house. Passing +Martha again he gave her a malevolent look, then halted at the outside +door. + +The man's wild rage seemed to have left him; he was calm--polite, even. + +"Tell your mistress I am sorry for what has occurred. I am afraid I was +a bit excited. I shall not harm her; I won't bother her again." + +He stepped through the doorway and, going again to a window and drawing +back the curtain slightly, Martha watched him. + +Carrington went to the stable, entered, and emerged again presently, +leading two horses--Parsons' horse and Billy. He led the animals to +where his own horse stood, climbed into the saddle and rode away, the +two horses following. At the edge of the wood he turned and looked back. +Then the darkness swallowed him. + +For another half-hour Martha watched the Dawes trail from a window. Then +she drew a deep breath and went into Marion's room, standing under the +trap-door. + +"I reckon you kin come down now, honey--he's gone." + +A little later, with Marion standing near her in the room, the light +from the kerosene-lamp streaming upon them through the shattered door, +Martha was speaking rapidly: + +"He acted mighty suspicious, honey; an' he's up to some dog's trick, +shuah as you'm alive. You got to git out of heah, honey--mighty quick! +'Pears he thinks you is hid somewhares around heah, an' he's figgerin' +on makin' you stay heah. An' if you wants to git away, you's got to +walk, for he's took the hosses!" She shook her head, her eyes wide with +a reflection of the complete stupefaction that had descended upon her. +"Laws A'mighty, what a ragin' devil that man is, honey! I'se seen men +_an'_ men--an' I knowed a nigger once that was----" + +But Martha paused, for Marion was paying no attention to her. The girl +was pulling some articles of wearing apparel from some drawers, packing +them hurriedly into a small handbag, and Martha sprang quickly to help +her, divining what the girl intended to do. + +"That's right, honey; doan you stay heah in this house another minit! +You git out as quick as you kin. You go right over to that Squint man's +house an' tell him to protect you. 'Cause you's goin' to need +protection, honey--an' don't you forgit it!" + +The girl's white face was an eloquent sign of her conception of the +danger that confronted her. But she spoke no word while packing her +handbag. When she was ready she turned to the door, to confront Martha, +who also carried a satchel. Together the two went out of the house, +crossed the level surrounding it, and began to descend the long slope +that led down into the mighty basin in which, some hours before, the +girl had seen the pin-point of light glimmering across the sea of +darkness toward her. And toward that light, as toward a beacon that +promised a haven from a storm, she went, Martha following. + +From a window of the house a man watched them--Parsons--in the grip of a +paralyzing terror, his pallid face pressed tightly against the glass of +the window as he watched until he could see them no longer. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII--THE WRONG ANKLE + + +Bud Hemmingway, the tall, red-faced young puncher who had assisted +Quinton Taylor in the sprained-ankle deception, saw the dawn breaking +through one of the windows of the bunkhouse when he suddenly opened his +eyes after dreaming of steaming flapjacks soaked in the sirup he liked +best. He stretched out on his back in the wall-bunk and licked his lips. + +"Lordy, I'm hungry!" + +But he decided to rest for a few minutes while he considered the +cook--away with the outfit to a distant corner of the range. + +He reflected bitterly that the cook was away most of the time, and that +a man fared considerably better with the outfit than he did by staying +at the home ranch. For one thing, when a man was with the outfit he got +"grub," without having to rustle it himself--that was why it was better +to be with the outfit. + +"A man don't git nothin' to eat at all, scarcely--when he's got to +rustle his own grub," mourned Bud. "He's got the appetite, all right, +but he don't know how to rassle the ingredients which goes into good +grub. Take them flapjacks, now." (He licked his lips again.) "They're +scrumptuous. But that damned hyena which slings grub for the outfit +won't tell a man how he makes 'em, which greediness is goin' to git him +into a heap of trouble some day--when I git so hungry that I feel a heap +reckless!" + +Bud watched the dawn broaden. He knew he ought to get up, for this was +the day on which Marion Harlan was to visit the Arrow--and Taylor had +warned him to be on hand early to bandage the ankle again--Taylor having +decided that not enough time had elapsed to effect a cure. + +But Bud did not get up until a glowing shaft entering the window warned +him that the sun was soon to appear above the horizon. Then he bounded +out of the bunk and lurched heavily to an east window. + +What he saw when he looked out made him gasp for breath and hang hard to +the window-sill, while his eyes bulged and widened with astonishment. +For upon the porch of the ranchhouse--seated in the identical chairs in +which they had sat during their previous visit, were Marion Harlan and +the negro woman! + +Bud stepped back from the window and rubbed his eyes. Then he went to +the window again and looked with all his vision. And then a grin covered +his face. + +For the two women seemed to be asleep. Bud would have sworn they were +asleep! For the negress was hunched up in her chair--a big, almost +shapeless black mass--with her chin hidden in the swell of her ample +bosom; while the girl was leaning back, her figure slack with the utter +relaxation that accompanies deep sleep, her eyes closed and her hat a +little awry. Bud was certain _she_ was asleep, for no girl in her waking +moments would permit her hat to rest upon her head in that negligent +manner. + +Bad scratched his head many times while hurriedly getting into his +clothing. + +"I'm bettin' _they_ didn't wait for flapjacks _this_ morning!" he +confided to himself, mentally. "Must like it here a heap," he reflected. +"Well, there's nothin' like gittin' an early start when you're goin' +anywhere!" he grinned. + +Stealthily he opened the door of the bunkhouse, watching furtively as he +stepped out, lest he be seen; and then when he noted that the women did +not move, he darted across the yard, vaulted the corral fence, ran +around the corner of the ranchhouse, carefully opened a rear door, and +presently stood beside a bed gently shaking its tousled-haired occupant. + +"Git up, you sufferin' fool!" he whispered hoarsely; "they're here!" + +Taylor's eyes snapped open and were fixed on Bud with a resentful glare, +which instantly changed to reserved amusement when he saw Bud's bulging +eyes and general evidence of suppressed excitement. + +He yawned sleepily, stretching his arms wide. + +"The outfit, eh? Well, tell Bothwell I'll see him----" + +"Bothwell, hell!" sneered Bud. "It ain't the outfit! It ain't no damned +range boss! It's _her_, I tell you! An' if you're figgerin' on gittin' +that ankle bandaged before-- That starts you to runnin', eh?" he jeered. + +For Taylor was out of bed with one leap. In another he had Bud by the +shoulders and had crowded him back against the wall. + +"Bud," he said, "I've a notion to manhandle you! Didn't I tell you to +have me up early?" + +"Git your fingers out of my windpipe," objected Bud. "Early! Sufferin' +shorthorns! Did you want me to git you up last night? It's only four, +now--an' they've been here for hours, I reckon--mebbe all night. How's a +man to know anything about a woman?" + +Taylor was getting into his clothes. Bud watched him, marveling at his +deft movements. "You're sure a wolf at hustlin' when _she's_ around!" he +offered. + +But he got no reply. Taylor was dressed in a miraculously short time, +and then he sat down on the edge of the bed and stuck a foot out toward +Bud. + +"Shut up, and get the bandage on!" he directed. + +Bud dove for a dresser and pulled out a drawer, returning instantly with +a roll of white cloth, which he unfolded as he knelt beside the bed. For +an instant after kneeling he scratched his head, looking at Taylor's +feet in perplexity, and then he looked up at Taylor, his face +thoughtfully furrowed. + +"Which ankle was it I bandaged before?" he demanded; "I've forgot!" + +Taylor groaned. He, too, had forgotten. Since he had talked with Neil +Norton about the ankle directly after the fight with Carrington in front +of the courthouse he had tried in vain to remember which ankle he had +bandaged for Miss Harlan's benefit. Driven to the necessity of making a +quick decision, his brain became a mere muddle of desperate conjecture. +Out of the muddle sprang a disgust for Bud for _his_ poor memory. + +"You've forgot!" he blurted at Bud. "Why, damn it, you ought to know +which one it was--you bandaged it!" + +"Well," grinned Bud gleefully, "it was _your_ ankle, wasn't it? Strikes +me that if I busted one of _my_ ankles I wouldn't forget which one it +was! Leastways, if I'd busted it just to hang around a girl!" + +Taylor sneered scornfully. "You wouldn't bust an ankle for a girl--you +ain't got backbone enough. Hell!" he exploded; "do something! Take a +chance and bandage one of them--I don't care a damn which one! If she +noticed the other time, I'll tell her that one was cured and I busted +the other one!" + +"She'd know you was lyin'," grinned Bud. He stood erect, his eyes alight +with an inspiration. "Wrap up both of 'em!" he suggested. "If she goes +to gittin' curious--which she will, bein' a woman--tell her you busted +both of 'em!" + +"It won't do," objected Taylor; "I couldn't lie that heavy an' keep a +straight face." + +Bud began to wrap the left ankle. As he worked, the doubt in his eyes +began to fade and was succeeded by conviction. When he finished, he +stood up and grinned at Taylor. + +"That's the one," he said; "the left. I mind, now, that we talked about +it. You go right out to her, limpin', the same as you done before, an' +she'll not say a word about it. You'll see." + +Taylor grunted disbelievingly, and hobbled to the front door. He looked +back at Bud, who was snickering, made a malicious grimace at him, and +softly opened the door. + +Miss Harlan had been asleep, but she was not asleep when Taylor opened +the door. Indeed, she was never more wide awake in her life. At the +sound of the door opening she turned her head and sat stiffly erect, to +face Taylor. + +Taylor looked apologetically at his ankle, his cheeks tinged with a +flush of embarrassment. + +"This ankle, ma'am--it ain't quite well yet. You'll excuse me not being +gone. But Bud--that's my friend--says it won't be quite right for a few +days yet. But I won't be in your way--and I hope you enjoy yourself." + +Miss Harlan was enjoying herself. She was enjoying herself despite the +shadow of the tragedy that had almost descended upon her. And mirth, +routing the bitter, resentful emotions that had dwelt in her heart +during the night, twitched mightily at her lips and threatened to curve +them into a smile. + +For during her last visit to the Arrow she had noted particularly that +it had been Taylor's _right_ ankle which had been bandaged, and now he +appeared before her with the _left_ swathed in white cloth! + +But even had she not known, Taylor's face must have told her of the +deception. For there was guilt in his eyes, and doubt, and a sort of +breathless speculation, and--she was certain--an intense curiosity to +discover whether or not she was aware of the trick. + +But she looked straight at him, betraying nothing of the emotions that +had seized her. + +"Does it pain you _very_ much?" she inquired. + +Had not Taylor been so eager to make his case strong, he might have +noted the exceedingly light sarcasm of her voice. + +"It hurts a heap, ma'am," he declared. "Why, last night----" + +"I shouldn't think it would be necessary to lie about an ankle," she +said, coldly. + +Taylor's face went crimson, and in his astonishment he stepped heavily +upon the traitor foot and stood, convicted, before her, looking very +much like a reproved schoolboy. + +She rose from her chair, and now she turned from Taylor and stood +looking out over the big level, while behind her Taylor shifted his +feet, scowled and felt decidedly uncomfortable. + +From where Taylor watched her she looked very rigid and indignant--with +her head proudly erect and her shoulders squared; and he could almost +_feel_ that her eyes were flashing with resentment. + +Yet had he been able to see her face, he would have seen her lips +twitching and her eyes dancing with a light that might have puzzled him. +For she had already forgiven him. + +"There's lies--_and_ lies," he offered palliatively, breaking a painful +silence. + +There was no answer, and Taylor, desperately in earnest in his desire +for forgiveness, and looking decidedly funny to Bud Hemmingway, who was +watching from the interior of the room beyond the open door, walked +across the porch with no suspicion of a limp, and halted near the girl. + +"Shucks, Miss Harlan," he said. "I'm sure caught; and I'm admitting it +was a sort of mean trick to pull off on you. But if you wanted to be +near a girl you'd taken a shine to--that you liked a whole lot, I mean, +Miss Harlan--and you couldn't think of any _good_ excuse to be around +her? You couldn't blame a man for that--could you? Besides," he added, +when peering at the side of her face, he saw the twitching lips, ready +to break into a smile, "I'll make it up to you!" + +"How?" It was a strained voice that answered him. + +"By manhandling Bud Hemmingway for wrapping up the wrong ankle, ma'am!" +he declared. + +Both heard a cackle of mirth from the room behind them. And both turned, +to see Bud Hemmingway retreating through a door into the kitchen. + +It might have been Bud's action that brought the smile to Miss Harlan's +face, or it might have been that she had forgiven Taylor. But at any +rate Taylor read the smile correctly, and he succeeded in looking +properly repentant when he felt Miss Harlan's gaze upon him. + +"I won't play any more tricks--on you," he declared. "You ain't holding +it against me?" + +"If you will promise not to harm Bud," she said. + +"That goes," he agreed, and went into the house to get his discarded +boot. + +When he reappeared, Miss Harlan was again seated in the chair. Swiftly +her thoughts had reverted to the incident of the night before, and her +face was wan and pale, and her lips pressed tightly together in a brave +effort to repress the emotions that rioted within her. In spite of her +courage, and of her determination not to let Taylor know of what had +happened to her, her eyes were moist and her lips quivering. + +He stepped close to her and peered sharply at her, standing erect +instantly, his face grave. + +"Shucks!" he said, accusingly; "I wouldn't be called hospitable--now, +would I? Standing here, talking a lot of nonsense, and you--you must +have started _early_ to get here by this time!" Again he flashed a keen +glance at her, and his voice leaped. + +"Something has happened, Miss Harlan! What is it?" + +She got up again and faced him, smiling, her eyes shining mistily +through the moisture in them. She was almost on the verge of tears, and +her voice was tremulous when she answered: + +"Mr. Taylor, I--I have come to ask if you--still--if your offer about +the Arrow is still open--if--I could stay here--myself and Martha; if I +could accept the offer you made about giving me father's share of the +Arrow. For--for--I can't go back East--to Westwood, and I won't stay in +the Huggins house a minute longer!" + +"Sure!" he said, with a grim smile, aware of her profound emotion; +aware, too, that something had gone terribly wrong with her--to make her +accept what she had once considered charity--an offer made out of his +regard for her father. + +"But, look here," he added. "What's wrong? There's something----" + +"Plenty, Mr. Squint." + +This was Martha. She had been awake for some little time, sitting back +with her eyes closed, listening. She was now sitting erect, her eyes +shining with eagerness to tell all she knew of the night's happenings. + +"Plenty, Mr. Squint," she repeated, paying no attention to Miss Harlan's +sharp, "Martha!" "That big rapscallion, Carrington, has been makin' +things mighty mis'able for Missy Harlan. He come to the house las' night +an' bust the door down, tryin' to git at missy, an' she's run away from +him like a whitehead. Then, when he finds he can't diskiver where I hide +missy he run the hosses off an' we have to walk heah. That's all, Mr. +Squint, 'ceptin' that me an' missy doan stay in that house no more--if +we have to walk East--all the way!" + +Miss Harlan saw a flash light Taylor's eyes; saw the flash recede, to be +replaced by a chilling glow. And his lips grew straight and stiff--two +hard lines pressed firmly together. She saw his chest swell and noted +the tenseness of his muscles as he stepped closer to her. + +"Was your uncle there with you, Miss Harlan?" + +She nodded, and saw his lips curve with a mirthless smile. + +"What did Carrington do?" The passion in his voice made an icy shiver +run over her--she felt the terrible earnestness that had come over him, +and a pulse of fear gripped her. + +She had never felt more like crying than at this instant, and until this +minute she had not known how deeply she had been affected by +Carrington's conduct, nor how tired she was, nor how she had yearned for +the sympathy Taylor was giving her. But she felt that something in +Taylor's manner portended violence, and she did not want him to risk his +life fighting Carrington--for her. + +"You see," she explained, "Mr. Carrington did not really _do_ anything. +He just came there, and was impertinent, and impudent, and insulting. +And he told me that he had bought the house; that it didn't belong to +uncle--though I thought it did; and that the people of Dawes--and +everywhere--would think--things--about me--as the people of Westwood +had--thought. And I--I--why, I just couldn't stay----" + +"That's enough, Miss Harlan. So Carrington didn't do anything." His +voice was vibrant with some sternly repressed passion. + +"So you walked all the way here, and you have had no breakfast," he +said, shortly. He turned toward the front door, his voice snapping like +the report of a rifle: + +"Bud!" + +And, looking through the doorway, Miss Harlan saw Bud jump as though he +had been shot. He appeared in the doorway, serious-faced and alert. + +"Rustle some breakfast--quick! And hoe out that spare bedroom. Jump!" + +Taylor understood perfectly what had happened, for he remembered what he +had overheard between Carrington and Parsons on the train. To be sure, +Miss Harlan knew nothing about the conversation, and so she mentally +commended Taylor's quickness of perception, and felt grateful to him +because he had spared her the horror of explaining further. + +She sat down again, aware of the startling unconventionality of this +visit and of the conversation that had resulted from it, but oppressed +with no sense of shame. For it seemed entirely natural that she should +have come to Taylor, though she supposed that was because he had been +her father's friend, and that she had no other person to go to--not even +if she went East, to Westwood. But she would not have mentioned what had +happened at the big house if Martha had not taken the initiative. + +She was startled over the change that had come in Taylor. Watching him +covertly as he stood near her, and following his movements as he walked +around in the room, helping Bud, generously leaving her to herself and +her thoughts, she looked in vain for that gentleness and subtle +thoughtfulness that hitherto had seemed to distinguish him. She had +admired him for his easy-going manner, the slow deliberateness of his +glances, the quizzical gleam of his eyes. + +But she saw him now as many of the men in this section of the country +had seen him when he faced the necessity for rapid, determined action. +It was the other side of his character; before she had heard his voice, +and before she had seen him smile--the stern, unyielding side of him +which she had discovered always was ready for the blows of adversity and +enmity--his fighting side. + +And when she went into the house to breakfast, feeling the strangeness +of it all--of the odd fate which had led her to the Arrow; the queer +reluctance that affected her over the action in accepting the +hospitality of a man who--except for his association with her +father--was almost a stranger to her--she found that he did not intend +to insinuate his presence upon her. + +He called her, and stood near the table when she and Martha went in. +Then he told her gravely that the house was "hers," and that he and Bud +would live in the bunkhouse. + +"And when you get settled," he told her, as he stood in the doorway, +ready to go, "we'll write those articles of partnership. And," he added, +"don't you go to worrying about Carrington. If he comes here, and Bud or +me ain't here, you'll find a loaded rifle hanging behind the front door. +Don't be afraid to use it--there's no law against killing snakes out +here!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII--THE BEAST AGAIN + + +Carrington was conscious of the error his unrestrained passion had +driven him to committing. Yet he had not been sincere when he had +declared to Martha that he wouldn't bother the girl again. For after +leading the two horses to Dawes and arranging for their care, he hunted +up Danforth. It was nearly midnight when Danforth reached Carrington's +rooms in the Castle, and Carrington was in a sullen mood. + +"I want two or three men who will do what they are told and keep their +mouths shut," he told Danforth. "Get them--quick--and send them to the +Huggins house--mine, now--and have them stay there. Nobody is to leave +the house--not even to come to town. Understand? Not even Parsons. +Hustle! There is no train out of here tonight? No? Well, that's all +right. Get going!" + +Danforth had noticed Carrington's sullenness, and the strained +excitement of his manner, and there was in Danforth's mind an +inclination to warn Carrington about including the woman in the scheme +to subjugate Dawes--for he knew Carrington of old; but a certain light +in the big man's eyes warned Danforth and he shut his half-opened lips +and departed on his errand. + +In an hour he returned, telling Carrington that his orders had been +obeyed. + +Danforth seated himself in a chair near one of the front windows and +waited, for he knew Carrington still had something to say to him--the +man's eyes told him, for they were alight with a cold, speculative gleam +as they rested on Danforth. + +At last, after a silence that lasted long, Carrington said, shortly: + +"What do you know about Taylor?" + +"What I told you before--the first day. And that isn't much." + +"I had a talk with Parsons the other day--about Larry Harlan," said +Carrington. "It seems that Larry Harlan worked for Taylor--for two or +three years. I didn't question Parsons closely about the connection +between Taylor and Harlan, but it seems to me that Parsons mentioned a +mine. What about it? Do you know anything about it?" + +Danforth related what he knew regarding the incident of the mine--the +story told by Taylor when he returned after Larry Harlan's death--and +Carrington's eyes gleamed with interest. + +"Do you think he told a straight story?" he asked. + +He watched Danforth intently. + +"Hell, yes!" declared the other. "He's too square to lie!" + +Five minutes later Carrington said good-night to Danforth. But +Carrington did not immediately go to bed; he sat for a long time in a +chair near the window looking out at the buildings of Dawes. + +In the courtroom early the next morning he leaned over Judge +Littlefield's desk, smiling. + +"Did you ever hear of Quinton Taylor being connected with a mining +venture?" + +"Well, rather." + +"Where?" + +"At Nogel--in the Sangre de Christo Mountains." + +"How far is that?" + +"About ten miles--due west." + +"What do you know about the mine?" + +"Very little. Taylor and a man named Lawrence Harlan registered the +claim here. I heard that Harlan died--was killed in an accident. Soon +afterward, Taylor sold the mine--to a man named Thornton--for a +consideration, not mentioned." The judge looked sharply at Carrington. +"Why this inquiry?" he asked; "do you think there is anything wrong +about the transaction?" + +"There is no determining that until an investigation is made." +Carrington laughed as he left the judge. + +Later he got on his horse and rode to the big house. On the front porch, +seated in a chair, smoking, he saw one of the men Danforth had sent in +obedience to his order; at the rear of the house was another; and, +lounging carelessly on the grass near the edge of the butte fringing the +big valley, he saw still another--men who seemed to find their work +agreeable, for they grinned at Carrington when he rode up. + +Carrington dismounted and entered the house--by one of the rear +doors--which he had wrecked the night before. He went in boldly, +grinning, for he anticipated that by this time Marion Harlan would have +reached that stage of intimidation where she would no longer resist him. + +At first he was only mildly disturbed at the appearance of the interior; +for nothing had been done to bring order out of the chaos he had created +the night before, and the condition of the furniture, and the atmosphere +of gloomy emptiness that greeted him indicated nothing. The terror under +which the girl had labored during the night might still be gripping her. + +He had no suspicion that the girl had left the house until after he had +looked into all the rooms but the one occupied by Parsons. Then a +conviction that she _had_ fled seized him; he scowled and leaped to the +door of Parsons' room, pounding heavily upon it. + +Parsons did not answer his knock, and an instant later, when Carrington +forced the door and stepped into the room, he saw Parsons standing near +a window, pallid and shaking. + +With a bound Carrington reached Parsons' side and gripped the man by the +collar of his coat. + +"Where's Miss Harlan?" he demanded. He noted that Parsons swayed in his +grasp, and he peered at the other with a malignant joy. He had always +hated Parsons, tolerating him because of Parsons' money. + +"She's gone," whispered Parsons tremulously. "I--I tried to stop her, +knowing you wouldn't want it, but--she went away--anyway." + +"Where?" Carrington's fingers were gripping Parsons' shoulder near the +throat with a bitter, viselike strength that made the man cringe and +groan from the pain of it. + +"Don't, Jim; for God's sake, don't! You're hurting me! I--I couldn't +help it; I couldn't stop her!" + +The abject, terrified appeal in his eyes; the fawning, doglike +subjection of his manner, enraged Carrington. He shook the little man +with a force that racked the other from head to heel. + +"Where did she go--damn you!" + +"To the Arrow." + +Aroused to desperation by the flaming fury that blazed in Carrington's +eyes, Parsons tried to wrench himself free, tugging desperately, and +whining: "Don't, Jim!" For he knew that he was to be punished for his +dereliction. + +He shrieked when Carrington struck him; a sound which died in his throat +as the blow landed. Carrington left him lie where he fell, and went out +to the men, interrogating the one he had seen on the front porch. + +From that person he learned that no one had left the house since the men +had come; so that Carrington knew Marion must have departed soon after +he had left the night before--or some time during the time of his +departure and the arrival of the men. + +Ten minutes after emerging from the house he went in again. Parsons was +sitting on the floor of his room, swaying weakly back and forth, whining +tonelessly, his lips loose and drooling blood. + +For an instant Carrington stood over him, looking down at him with a +merciless, tigerlike grin. Then he stooped, gripped Parsons by the +shoulders, and, lifting him bodily, threw him across the bed. Parsons +did not resist, but lay, his arms flung wide, watching the big man +fearfully. + +"Don't hit me again, Jim!" he pleaded. "Jim, I've never done anything to +you!" + +"Bah!" Carrington leaned over the other, grinning malevolently. + +"You've double-crossed me, Elam," he said silkily. "You're through. Get +out of here before I kill you! I want to; and if you are here in five +minutes, I shall kill you! Go to the Arrow--with your niece. Tell her +what you know about me--if you haven't done so already. And tell her +that I am coming for her--and for Taylor, too! Now, get out!" + +In less than five minutes, while Carrington was at the front of the +house talking with the three men, Parsons tottered from a rear door, +staggered weakly into some dense shrubbery that skirted the far side of +the house, and made his slow way toward the big slope down which Marion +and Martha had gone some hours before. + +Retribution had descended swiftly upon Parsons; it seemed to him he was +out of it, crushed and beaten. But no thread of philosophy weaved its +way through the fabric of the man's complete misery and humiliation, and +no reflection that he had merely reaped what he had sown glimmered in +his consciousness. He was merely conscious that he had been beaten and +robbed by the man who had always been his confederate, and as he reeled +down the big slope on his way to the Arrow he whined and moaned in a +toneless voice of vengeance--and more vengeance. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX--THE AMBUSH + + +The incident of the fight between Carrington, Danforth, Judge +Littlefield, and Taylor in front of the courthouse had eloquently +revealed a trait of Taylor's character which was quite generally known +to the people of Dawes, and which, in a great measure, accounted for +Taylor's popularity. + +Few of Dawes's citizens had ever seen Taylor angry. Neil Norton had seen +him in a rage once, and the memory of the man's face was still vivid. A +few of the town's citizens had watched him once--when he had thrashed a +gunman who had insulted him--and the story of that fight still taxed the +vocabularies of those who had witnessed it. One enthusiastic watcher, at +the conclusion of the fight, had picturesquely termed Taylor a "regular +he-wolf in a scrap;" and thus there was written into the traditions of +the town a page of his history which carried the lesson, repeated by +many tongues: + +"Don't rile Taylor!" + +Riding into Dawes about two hours after he had heard from Marion Harlan +the story of the attack on her by Carrington, Taylor's face was set and +grim. His ancient hatred of Carrington was intensified by another +passion that had burned its way into his heart, filling it with a +primitive lust to destroy--jealousy. + +He dismounted in front of the Castle Hotel, and, entering, he asked the +clerk where he could find Carrington. The clerk could give him no +information, and Taylor went out, the clerk's puzzled gaze following +him. + +"Evidently he doesn't want to congratulate Carrington about anything," +the clerk confided to a bystander. + +Mounting his horse, Taylor rode down the street to the building which +Danforth had selected as a place from which to administer the government +of Dawes. A gilt sign over the front bore upon it the words: + + CITY HALL. + +Taylor went inside, and found Danforth seated at a desk. The latter +looked sourly at his visitor until he caught a glimpse of his eyes, then +his face paled, and he sat silent until Taylor spoke: + +"Where's Carrington?" + +"I haven't seen Carrington this morning," lied Danforth, for he _had_ +seen Carrington some time before, riding out of town toward the Huggins +house. He suspected Carrington's errand was in some way concerned with +the three men who had been sent there. But he divined from the +expression in Taylor's eyes that trouble between Taylor and Carrington +was imminent, and he would not set Taylor on the other's trail without +first warning Carrington. + +He met Taylor's straight, cold look of disbelief with a vindictive +smirk, which grew venomous as Taylor wheeled and walked out. Taylor had +not gone far when Danforth called a man to his side, whispered rapidly +to him, telling him to hurry. Later the man slipped out of the rear door +of the building, mounted a horse, and rode hurriedly down the river +trail toward the Huggins house. + +Taylor rode to the _Eagle_ office, but Norton was not there, and so, +pursuing his quest, Taylor looked into saloons and stores, and various +other places. Men who knew him noted his taciturnity--for he spoke +little except to greet a friend here and there shortly--and commented +upon his abrupt manner. + +"What's up with Taylor?" asked a man who knew him. "Looks sort of +riled." + +Taylor found Carrington in none of the places in which he looked. He +returned to the _Eagle_ office, and found Norton there. He greeted +Norton with a short: + +"Seen Carrington?" + +"Why, yes." Norton peered closely at his friend. "What in blazes is +wrong?" His thoughts went to another time, when he had seen Taylor as he +appeared now, and he drew a deep breath. + +Briefly Taylor told him, and when the tale was ended, Norton's eyes were +blazing with indignation. + +"So, that's the kind of a whelp he is!" he said. "Well," he added, "I +saw him go out on the river trail a while ago; it's likely he's gone to +the Huggins house." + +"His--now," said Taylor; "that's what makes it worse. Well," he added as +he stepped toward the door, "I'll be going." + +"Be careful, Squint," warned Norton, placing a hand on his friend's +shoulder. "I know you can lick him--and I hope you give him all that's +coming to him. But watch him--he's tricky!" He paused. "If you need any +help--someone to go with you, to keep an eye----" + +"It's a one-man job," grinned Taylor mirthlessly. + +"You'll promise you won't be thinking of that ankle--this time?" said +Norton seriously. + +Taylor permitted himself a faint smile. "That's all explained now," he +said. "She's been a lot generous--and forgiving. No," he added, "I won't +be thinking of that ankle--now!" + +And then, his lips setting again, he crossed the sidewalk, mounted +Spotted Tail, and rode through town to the river trail. Watching him, +Norton saw him disappear in some timber that fringed the river. + + * * * * * + +Carrington had finished his talk with the three men he had set to guard +the Huggins house. The men were told to stay until they received orders +from Carrington to leave. And they were to report to him immediately if +anyone came. + +Carrington had watched Parsons go down the big slope; and for a long +time after he had finished his talk with the three men he stood on the +front porch of the house watching the progress made by Parsons through +the basin. + +"Following Marion," Carrington assured himself, with a crooked smile. +"Well, I'll know where to get both of them when I want them." + +Carrington felt not the slightest tremor of pity for Parsons. He laughed +deep in his throat with a venomous joy as he saw Parsons slowly making +his way through the big basin; for he knew Parsons--he knew that the +craven nature of the man would prevent him from attempting any reprisal +of a vigorous character. + +Yet the exultation in the big man's heart was dulled with a slight +regret for his ruthless attack on Marion Harlan. He should not have been +so eager, he told himself; he should have waited; he should have +insinuated himself into her good graces, and then---- + +Scowling, he got on his horse and rode up the Dawes trail, shouting a +last word of caution to the three men--one seated on the front porch, +the other two lounging in the shade of a tree near by. + +Half a mile from the house, riding through a timber grove, he met the +man Danforth had sent to him. The latter gave Carrington the message he +carried, which was merely: "Taylor is looking for you." + +"Coming here?" he asked the man sharply. + +"I reckon he will be--if he can't find you in town," said the man. +"Danforth said Taylor was a heap fussed up, an' killin' mad!" + +A grayish pallor stole over Carrington's face, and he drew a quick +breath, sending a rapid, dreading glance up the Dawes trail. Then, +coincident with a crafty backward look--toward the Huggins house--the +grayish pallor receded and a rush of color suffused his face. He spoke +shortly to the man: + +"Sneak back--by a roundabout trail. Don't let Taylor see you!" + +He watched while the man urged his horse deep into the fringing timber. +Carrington could see him for a time as he rode, and then, when horse and +rider had vanished, Carrington wheeled his horse and sent it clattering +back along the trail to the big house. + +Arriving there, he called the three men to him and talked fast to them. +The talk ended, the men ran for their horses, and a few minutes later +they raced up the river trail toward Dawes, their faces grim, their eyes +alert. + +About a mile up the trail, where a wood of spruce and fir-balsam spread +dark shadows over the ground, and an almost impenetrable growth of brush +fringed the narrow, winding path over which any rider going to the big +house must pass, they separated, two plunging deep into the brush on one +side, and one man secreting himself on the other side. + +They urged their horses far back, where they could not be seen. And +then, concealing themselves behind convenient bushes, they waited, their +eyes trained on the Dawes trail, their ears attuned to catch the +slightest sound that might come from that direction. + +Back at the big house--having arranged the ambuscade--Carrington drew a +deep breath of relief and smiled evilly. He thought he knew why Taylor +was looking for him. Marion had gone to the Arrow, to tell Taylor what +had happened at the big house, and Taylor, in a jealous rage, intended +to punish him. Well, Taylor could come now. + + + + +CHAPTER XX--A FIGHT TO A FINISH + + +And Taylor was "coming." The big black horse he was riding--which he had +named "Spotted Tail" because of the white blotches that startlingly +relieved his somber sable coat--was never in better condition. He +stepped lightly, running in long, smooth leaps down the narrow trail, +champing at the bit, keen of eye, alert, eager, snorting his impatience +over the tight rein his rider kept on him. + +But Spotted Tail was not more eager than his rider. Taylor, however, +knowing that at any instant he might run plump into Carrington, +returning from the big house, was forced to restrain his impatience. +Therefore, except on the straight reaches of the trail, he was forced to +pull the black down. + +But they were traveling fast when they reached the timber grove in which +Carrington's men were concealed; and yet on the damp earth of the trail, +where the sunlight could not penetrate, and where the leaves of past +summers had fallen, to rot and weave a pulpy carpet, the rush of Spotted +Tail's passing created little sound. + +Within a hundred feet of the spot where Carrington's men were concealed, +Spotted Tail shot his ears forward stiffly and raised his muzzle +inquiringly. Taylor, noting the action, and suspecting that instinct had +warned Spotted Tail of the approach of another horse, drew the animal +down and rode forward at a walk, for he felt that it must be +Carrington's horse which was approaching. + +Rounding a sharp turn in the trail, Taylor could look ahead for perhaps +a hundred feet. He saw no rider advancing toward him, and he leaned +forward, slapping the black's neck in playful reproach. + +As he moved he heard the heavy crash of a pistol shot and felt the +bullet sing past his head. Another pistol barked venomously from some +brush on his right, and still another from his left. + +But none of the bullets struck Taylor. For the black horse, startled by +Taylor's playful movement when all his senses were strained to detect +the location of his kind on the trail, had made an involuntary forward +leap, thus whisking his rider out of the line of fire. And before either +of the three men could shoot again, Spotted Tail had flashed down the +trail--a streak of somber black against the green background of the +trees. + +He fled over the hundred feet of straight trail and had vanished around +a bend before the Carrington men could move their weapons around +impeding branches of the brush that covered them. There was no stopping +Spotted Tail now, for he was in a frenzy of terror--and he made a mere +rushing black blot as he emerged from the timber and fled across an open +space toward another wood--the wood that surrounded the big house. + +Standing on the front porch of the big house, nervously smoking a cigar, +his face set in sullen lines, his eyes fixed on the Dawes trail, +Carrington heard the shots. He sighed, grinned maliciously, and relaxed +his vigilance. + +"He's settled by now," he said. + +He looked at one of the chairs standing on the porch, thought of sitting +in one of them to await the coming of the three men, decided he was too +impatient to sit, and began walking back and forth on the porch. + +He had thrown a half-smoked cigar away and was lighting another when he +saw a black blot burst from the edge of a timber-clump beyond an open +space. The match flared and went out as Carrington held it to the end of +the cigar, for there was something strangely familiar in the shape of +the black blot--even with it heading directly toward him. An instant +later, the blot looming larger in his vision, Carrington dropped cigar +and match and stood staring with wild, fear-haunted eyes at the rushing +black horse. + +Carrington stood motionless a little longer--until the black horse, its +rider sitting straight in the saddle, in cowboy fashion, reached the +edge of the wood surrounding the house. Then Carrington, cursing, his +lips in a hideous pout, drew a pistol from a hip-pocket. And when the +black horse was within fifty feet of him, and still coming at a speed +which there was no gauging, Carrington leveled the pistol. + +Once--twice--three, four, five, six times he pulled the trigger of the +weapon. Carrington saw a grim, mocking smile on the rider's face, and +knew none of his bullets had taken effect. + +Unarmed now, he was suddenly stricken with a panic of fear; and while +the rider of the black horse was dismounting at the edge of the porch, +Carrington dove for the front door of the house and vanished inside, +slamming the door behind him, directly in the rider's face. + +When Taylor threw the door open he saw Carrington, far back in the room, +swinging a chair over his head. At Taylor's appearance he threw the +chair with all the force his frenzy of fear could put into the effort. +Taylor ducked, and the chair flew past him, sailing uninterruptedly +outside and over the porch railing. + +Carrington ran through the big front room, through the next room--the +sitting-room--knocking chairs over in his flight, throwing a big center +table at his silent, implacable pursuer. He slammed the sitting-room +door and tried to lock it, but he could not turn the key quickly enough, +and Taylor burst the door open, almost plunging against Carrington as he +came through it. + +Carrington ran into the dining-room, shoved the dining-room table in +Taylor's way as Taylor tried to reach him; but Taylor leaped over the +obstruction, and when Carrington dodged into Marion Harlan's room, +Taylor was so close that he might have grasped the big man. + +Taylor had said no word. The big man saw two guns swinging at Taylor's +hips, and he wondered vaguely why the man did not use them. It occurred +to Carrington as he plunged through Marion Harlan's room into Martha's, +and from there to the kitchen, and back again to the dining-room, that +Taylor was not going to shoot him, and his panic partially left him. + +And yet there was a gleam in Taylor's eyes that made his soul cringe in +terror--the cold, bitter fury of a peaceloving man thoroughly aroused. + +Twice, as Taylor pursued Carrington through the sitting-room again and +into another big room that adjoined it, Carrington's courage revived +long enough to permit him to consider making a stand against Taylor, but +each time as he stiffened with the determination, the terrible rage in +Taylor's eyes dissuaded him, and he continued to evade the clash. + +But he knew that the clash must come, and when, in their rapid, headlong +movements, Carrington came close to the front door and tried to slip out +of it, Taylor lunged against him and struck at him, the fist just +grazing Carrington's jaw, the big man understood that Taylor was intent +on beating him with his fists. + +Had it not been for his previous encounter with Taylor, Carrington would +not have hesitated, for he knew how to protect himself in a fight; but +there was something in Taylor's eyes now to add to the memory of that +other fight, and Carrington wanted no more of it. + +But at last he was forced to stand. Ducking to evade the blow aimed at +his jaw when he tried to dart out of the front door, he slipped. +Reeling, in an effort to regain his equilibrium, he plunged into another +big room. It was a room that was little used--an old-fashioned parlor, +kept trim and neat against the coming of visitors, but a room whose +gloominess the occupants of the house usually avoided. + +The shades were down, partly concealing heavy wooden blinds--which were +closed. And the only light in the room was that which came from a little +square window high up in the side wall. + +Before Carrington could regain his balance Taylor had entered the room. +He closed the door behind him, placed his back against it, locked it, +and grinned felinely at the big man. + +"Your men are coming, Carrington," he said--"hear them?" In the silence +that followed his words both stood, listening to the beat of hoofs near +the house. "They'll be trying to get in here in a minute," went on +Taylor. "But before they get in I'm going to knock your head off!" And +without further warning he was upon Carrington, striking bitterly. + +It seemed to Carrington that the man was endowed with a savage strength +entirely out of proportion to his stature, and that he was able to start +terrific, deadening blows from any angle. For though Carrington was a +strong man and had had some fighting experience, he could neither evade +Taylor's blows nor stand against the impact of them. + +He went reeling around the room under the impetus of Taylor's terrible +rushes, struggling to defend himself, to dodge, to clinch, to evade +somehow the fists that were flying at him from all directions. He could +not get an instant's respite in which to set himself. Three times in +succession he was knocked down so heavily that the house shook with the +crash of his body striking the floor, and each time when he got to his +feet he tried to fight Taylor off in an endeavor to set himself for a +blow. But he could not. He was knocked against the walls of the room, +and hammered away from them with stiff, jolty, venomous blows that +jarred him from head to heels. He tried vainly to cover up--with his +arms locked about his head he crouched and tried to rush Taylor off his +feet, knowing he was stronger than the other, and that his only hope was +in clinching. But Taylor held him off with savage uppercuts and terrific +short-arm swings that smashed his lips. + +He began to mutter in a whining, vicious monotone; twice he kicked at +Taylor, and twice he was knocked down as a punishment for his foul +methods. Finding his methods ineffectual, and discovering that covering +his face with his arms did not materially lessen the punishment he was +receiving, he began to stand up straight, taking blows in an effort to +land one. + +But Taylor eluded him; Carrington's blows did not land. Raging and +muttering, roaring with impotent passion, he whipped the air with his +arms, almost jerking them out of their sockets. + +Stiff and taut, his muscles accommodating themselves to every demand he +made on them, and in perfect coordination with his brain--and the +purpose of his brain to inflict upon Carrington the maximum of +punishment for his dastardly attack on Marion Harlan--Taylor worked fast +and furiously. For he heard Carrington's three men in the next room; he +heard them try the door; heard them call to Carrington. + +And then, convinced that the fight must be ended quickly, before the men +should break down the door and have him at a disadvantage, Taylor +finished it. He smothered Carrington with a succession of stiff-arm, +straight punches that glazed the other's eyes and sent him reeling +around the room. And, at last, over in a corner near the little window, +Carrington went down flat on his back, his eyes closed, his arms flung +wide. + +Panting from his exertions, Taylor drew his guns and ran to one of the +front windows. They opened upon the porch, and, peering through the +blinds, Taylor saw one of the men standing at one of the windows, trying +to peer into the room. The other two, Taylor knew, were at the door--he +could hear them talking in the silence that had followed the final +falling of Carrington. + +With a gun in each hand, Taylor approached the door. He was compelled to +sheath one of the guns, finding that it interfered with the turning of +the key in the lock; and he had sheathed it and was slowly turning the +key, intending to throw the door open suddenly and take his chance with +the two men on the other side of it, when he saw a shadow darken the +little window above where Carrington lay. + +He wheeled quickly, saw a man's face at the window, caught the glint of +a pistol. He snapped a shot at the man, swinging his gun over his head +to keep it from striking the door as he turned. But at the movement the +man's pistol roared, glass tinkling on the floor with the report. The +air in the room rocked with the explosion of Taylor's pistol, but a +heavy blow on Taylor's left shoulder, accompanied by a twinge of pain, +as though a white-hot iron had suddenly been plunged through it, spoiled +Taylor's aim, and his bullet went into the ceiling. As he staggered back +from the door he saw the man's face at the window, set in a triumphant +grin. Then, as Taylor flattened against the wall to steady himself for +another shot, the face disappeared. + +For an instant Taylor rested against the wall, his arms outstretched +along it to keep himself from falling, for the bullet which had struck +him had hurt him badly. The wound was in the left shoulder, though, and +high, and therefore not dangerous, yet he knew it had robbed his left +arm of most of its strength--there was no feeling in the fingers that +groped along the wall. + +He stepped again to the door and softly turned the key in the lock. He +heard no sound in the room beyond the door, and, thinking that the men, +curious over the shooting, had gone outside, he jerked the door open. + +The movement was greeted with deafening report and a smoke-streak that +blinded Taylor momentarily. In just the instant before the smoke-streak +Taylor had caught a glimpse of a man standing near the center of the +room beyond the door, and though he was rather disconcerted by the +powder-flash and the searing of his left cheek by a bullet, he let his +own gun off twice in as many seconds, and had the grim satisfaction of +seeing the man stagger and tumble headlong to the floor. + +Taylor peered once at the man, to see if he needed further attention, +decided he did not, and ran toward the front door, which opened upon the +porch. + +He was just in time to see one of Carrington's men sticking his head +around a corner of the house. It was the man who had shot him from the +little window. Taylor's gun and the man's roared simultaneously. Taylor +had missed, for the man dodged back, and Taylor staggered, for the man's +bullet had struck him in the left thigh. He leaped, though limping, +toward the corner, and when almost there a pistol crashed behind him, +the bullet hitting his left shoulder, near where the other had gone in, +the force of it spinning him clear around, so that he reeled and brought +up against a porch column where it joined the rail. + +Grimly setting himself, grinning bitterly with the realization that the +men had him between them, Taylor stood momentarily, fighting to overcome +the terrible weakness that had stolen over him. His knees were +trembling, the house, trees, and sky were agitated in sickening +convolutions, and yet when he saw the head of a man appear from around a +corner of the house at his right, he snapped a shot at it, and instantly +as it was withdrawn he staggered to the corner, lurching heavily as he +went, and turning just as he reached it to reply to a shot sent at him +from the other corner of the house. + +A smoke-spurt met him as he reeled around the corner nearest him, and +his knees sagged as he aimed his gun at a blurring figure in front of +him. He saw the man go down, but his own strength was spent, and he knew +the last bullet had struck him in a vital spot. + +Staggering drunkenly, he started for the side of the house and brought +up against it with a crash. Again, as he had done inside the house, he +stretched his arms out, flattening himself against the wall, but this +time the arms were hanging more limply. + +He was seeing things through a crimson haze, and raising a hand, he +wiped his eyes--and could see better, though there was a queer dimness +in his vision and the world was still traveling in eccentric circles. + +He saw a blur in front of him--two men, he thought, though he knew he +had accounted for two of the three gunmen who had followed him to the +house. Then he heard a laugh--coarse and brutal--in a voice that he +knew--Carrington's. + +With heartbreaking effort he brought up his right hand, bearing the +pistol. He was trying to swing it around to bring it to bear upon one of +the two dancing figures in front of him, when a crushing blow landed on +his head, and he knew one of the men had struck him with a fist. He felt +his own weapon go off at last--it seemed he had been an age pressing on +the trigger--and he heard a voice again--Carrington's--saying: "Damn +him; he's shot me!" He laughed aloud as a gun roared close to him; he +felt another twinge of pain somewhere around where the other twinges had +come--or on the other side--he did not know; and he sank slowly, still +pressing the trigger of his pistol, though not knowing whether or not he +was doing any damage. And then the eccentrically whirling world became a +black blur, soundless and void. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI--A MAN FACES DEATH + + +Taylor's last shot, when he had been automatically pressing the trigger +after Carrington had struck him viciously with his fist, had brought +down the last of the three men who had ambushed him. And one of his last +bullets had struck Carrington, who had recovered consciousness and +staggered out of the house in time to see the end of the fight. And the +big man, in a black, malignant fury of hatred, was staggering toward +Taylor, lifting a foot to kick him, when from the direction of the +clearing in front of the house came a voice, hoarse and vibrant with a +cold, deadly rage: + +"One kick an' I blow the top of your head off!" Carrington stopped short +and wheeled, to face Ben Mullarky. + +The Irishman's eyes were blazing with wrath, and as he came forward, +peering at the figures lying on the ground near the house, Carrington +retreated, holding up his hands. + +"Three of ye pilin' on one, eh?" said Mullarky as he looked down at +Taylor, huddled against the side of the house. "An' ye got him, too, +didn't ye? I've a domn big notion to blow the top of your head off, anny +way. Ye slope, ye big limb of the divvle, or I'll do it!" + +Mullarky watched while Carrington mounted his horse and rode up the +river trail toward Dawes, and the instant Carrington was out of sight, +Mullarky was down on his knees beside Taylor, taking a lightning +inventory of his wounds. + +"Four of them, looks like!" he muttered thickly, his voice shaking with +pity for the slack, limp, smoke-blackened figure that lay silent, the +trace of a smile on its face. "An' two of them through the shoulder!" He +paused, awed. "Lord, what a shindy!" + +Then, swiftly gulping down his sympathy and his rage, Mullarky ran to +his horse, which he had left at the edge of the wood when he had heard +the shooting. He led the animal back to where Taylor lay, tenderly +lifted Taylor in his arms, walked to the horse, and after much labor got +Taylor up in front of him on the horse, Taylor's weight resting on his +legs, the man's head and shoulders resting against him, to ease the jars +of the journey. + +Then he started, traveling as swiftly as possible down the big slope +toward his own house, not so very far away. + +Spotted Tail, jealously watching his master, saw him lifted to the back +of the other horse. Shrewdly suspecting that all was not going well, and +that his master would need him presently, Spotted Tail trotted after +Mullarky. + +In this manner, with Spotted Tail a few paces in his rear, Mullarky, +still tenderly carrying his burden, reached his cabin. + +He stilled Mrs. Mullarky's hysterical questions with a short command: + +"Hitch up the buckboard while I'm gettin' him in shape!" + +And then, while Mrs. Mullarky did as she was bidden, Mullarky carried +Taylor inside the cabin, bathed his wounds, stanching the flow of blood +as best he could--and came out again, carrying Taylor, and placed him in +the bed of the light spring-wagon, upon some quilts--and upon a pillow +that Mrs. Mullarky ran into the house to get, emerging with the +reproach: + +"You'd be lettin' him ride on them hard boards!" + +Following Mullarky's instructions, Mrs. Mullarky climbed to the driver's +seat and sent the buckboard toward the Arrow, driving as fast as she +thought she dared. And Ben Mullarky, on Spotted Tail, turned his face +toward Dawes, riding as he had never ridden before. + + * * * * * + +Parsons had reached the Arrow shortly after Taylor had departed for +Dawes. The man had stopped at the Mullarky cabin to inquire the way from +the lady, and she had frankly commented upon Parsons' battered +appearance. + +"So it was Carrington that mauled you, eh?" she said. "Well, he's a +mighty evil man--the divvle take his sowl!" + +Parsons concurred in this view of Carrington, though he did not tell +Mrs. Mullarky so. He went on his way, refusing the good woman's proffer +of a horse, for he wanted to go afoot to the Arrow. He felt sure of +Marion's sympathy, but he wanted to make himself as pitiable an object +as possible. And as he walked toward the Arrow he mentally dramatized +the moment of his appearance at the ranchhouse--a bruised and battered +figure dragging itself wearily forward, dusty, thirst-tortured, and +despairing. He knew that spectacle would win the girl's swift sympathy. +The fact that the girl herself had been through almost the same +experience did not affect him at all--he did not even think of it. + +And when Parsons reached the Arrow the scene was even as he had dreamed +it--Marion Harlan had seen him from afar, and came running to him, +placing an arm about him, helping him forward, whispering words of +sympathy in his ears, so that Parsons really began to look upon himself +as a badly abused martyr. + +Marion cared for him tenderly, once she got him into the ranchhouse. She +bathed his bruised face, prepared breakfast for him, and later, learning +from him that he had not slept during the night, she sent him off to +bed, asking him as he went into the room if he had seen Ben Mullarky. + +"For," she added, "he came here early this morning, after Mr. Taylor +left, and I sent him to the big house to get some things for me." + +But Parsons had not seen Mullarky. + +And at last, when the morning was nearly gone, and Marion saw a +horse-drawn vehicle approaching the Arrow from the direction of Dawes, +she ran out, thinking Ben Mullarky had brought her "things" in his +buckboard. But it was not Ben who was coming, but Mrs. Mullarky. The +lady's face was very white and serious, and when the girl came close and +she saw the look on the good woman's face, she halted in her tracks and +stood rigid, her own face paling. + +"Why, Mrs. Mullarky, what has happened?" + +"Enough, deary." Mrs. Mullarky waved an eloquent hand toward the rear of +the buckboard, and slowly approaching, the girl saw the huddled figure +lying there, swathed in quilts. + +She drew her breath sharply, and with pallid face, swaying a little, she +walked to the rear of the buckboard and stood, holding hard to the rim +of a wheel, looking down at Taylor's face with its closed eyes and its +ghastly color. + +She must have screamed, then, for she felt Mrs. Mullarky's arms around +her, and she heard the lady's voice, saying: "Don't, deary; he ain't +dead, yet--an' he won't die--we won't let him die." + +She stood there by the buckboard for a time--until Mrs. Mullarky, +running to one of the outbuildings, returned with Bud Hemmingway. Then, +nerved to the ordeal by Bud's businesslike methods, and the awful +profanity that gushed from his clenched teeth, she helped them carry +Taylor into the house. + +They took Taylor into his own room and laid him on the bed; a long, limp +figure, pitifully shattered, lying very white and still. + +The girl stayed in the room while Mrs. Mullarky and Bud ran hither and +thither getting water, cloths, stimulants, and other indispensable +articles. And during one of their absences the girl knelt beside the +bed, and resting her head close to Taylor's--with her hands stroking his +blackened face--she whispered: + +"O Lord, save him--save him for--for me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII--LOOKING FOR TROUBLE + + +Before night the Arrow outfit, led by Bothwell, the range boss, came +into the ranchhouse. For the news had reached them--after the manner in +which all news travels in the cow-country--by word of mouth--and they +had come in--all those who could be spared--to determine the truth of +the rumor. + +There were fifteen of them, rugged, capable-looking fellows; and despite +the doctor's objections, they filed singly, though noiselessly, into +Taylor's room and silently looked down upon their "boss." Marion, +watching them from a corner of the room, noted their quick gulps of +pity, their grim faces, the savage gleams that came into their eyes, and +she knew they were thinking of vengeance upon the men who had wrought +the injury to their employer. + +Bothwell--big, grim, and deliberate of manner--said nothing as he looked +down into his chief's face. But later, outside the house, listening to +Bud Hemmingway's recital of how Taylor had been brought to the +ranchhouse, Bothwell said shortly: + +"I'm takin' a look!" + +Shortly afterward, followed by every man of the outfit who had ridden in +with him, Bothwell crossed the big basin and sent his horse up the long +slope to the big house. + +Outside they came upon the bodies of the two men with whom Taylor had +fought. And inside the house they saw the other huddled on the floor +near a door in the big front room. Silently the men filed through the +house, looking into all the rooms, and noting the wreck and ruin that +had been wrought. They saw the broken glass of the little window through +which one of Carrington's men had fired the first shot; they noted the +hole in the ceiling--caused by a bullet from Taylor's pistol; and they +saw another hole in the wall near the door beside which Taylor had been +standing just before he had swung the door open. + +"Three of them--an' Carrington--accordin' to what Bud says," said +Bothwell. "That's four." He smiled bitterly. "They got him all +right--almost, I reckon. But from the looks of things they must have had +a roarin' picnic doin' it!" + +Not disturbing anything, the entire outfit mounted and rode swiftly down +the Dawes trail, their hearts swelling with sympathy for Taylor and +passionate hatred for Carrington, "itching for a clean-up," as one +sullen-looking member of the outfit described his feelings. + +But there was no "clean-up." When they reached Dawes they found the town +quiet--and men who saw them gave them plenty of room and forebore to +argue with them. For it was known that they were reckless, hardy spirits +when the mood came upon them, and that they worshiped Taylor. + +And so they entered Dawes, and Dawes treated them with respect. Passing +the city hall, they noticed some men grouped in front of the building, +and they halted, Bothwell dismounting and entering. + +"What's the gang collectin' for?" he asked a man--whom he knew for +Danforth. There was a belligerent thrust to Bothwell's chin, and a glare +in his eyes that, Danforth felt, must be met with diplomacy. + +"There's been trouble at the Huggins house, and I'm sending these men to +investigate." + +"Give them diggin' tools," said Bothwell grimly. "An' remember this--if +there's any more herd-ridin' of our boss the Arrow outfit is startin' a +private graveyard!" He pinned the mayor with a cold glare: "Where's +Carrington?" + +"In his rooms--under a doctor's care. He's hit--bad. A bullet in his +side." + +"Ought to be in his gizzard!" growled Bothwell. He went out, mounted, +and led his men away. They were reluctant to leave town, but Bothwell +was insistent. "They ain't no fight in that bunch of plug-uglies!" he +scoffed. "We'll go back an' 'tend to business, an' pull for the boss to +get well!" + +And so they returned to the Arrow, to find that the Dawes doctor was +still with Taylor. The doctor sent out word to them that there was a +slight chance for his patient, and satisfied that they had done all they +could, they rode away, to attend to "business." + +For the first time in her life Marion Harlan was witnessing the fight of +a strong man to live despite grievous wounds that, she was certain, +would have instantly killed most men. But Taylor fought his fight +unconsciously, for he was still in that deep coma that had descended +upon him when he had gently slipped to the ground beside the house, +still fighting, still scorning the efforts of his enemies to finish him. + +And during the first night's fever he still fought; the powerful +sedatives administered by the doctor had little effect. In his delirium +he muttered such terms and phrases as these: "Run, damn you--run! I +ain't in any hurry, and I'll get you!" And--"I'll certainly smash you +some!" And--"A 'thing,' eh--I'll show you! She's mine, you miserable +whelp!" + +Whether these were thoughts, or whether they were memories of past +utterances, made vivid and brought into the present by the fever, the +girl did not know. She sat beside his bed all night, with the doctor +near her, waiting and watching and listening. + +And she heard more: "That's Larry's girl, and it's up to me to protect +her." And--"I knew she'd look like that." Also--"They're both tryin' to +send her to hell! But I'll fool them!" At these times there was +ineffable tenderness in his voice. But at times he broke out in terrible +wrath. "Ambush me, eh? Ha, ha! That was right clever of you, Spotted +Tail--we didn't make a good target, did we? Only for your sense we'd +have--" He ceased, to begin anew: "I've got _you_--damn you!" And then +he would try to sit erect, swinging his arms as though he were trying to +hit someone. + +But toward morning he fell into a fitful sleep--the sleep of exhaustion; +and when the dawn came, Mrs. Mullarky ordered the girl, pale and wan +from her night's vigilance and service, to "go to bed." + +For three days it was the same. And for three days the doctor stayed at +the side of the patient, only sleeping when Miss Harlan watched over +Taylor. + +And during the three days' vigil, Taylor's delirium lasted. The girl +learned more of his character during those three days of constant +watchfulness than she would have learned in as many years otherwise. +That he was honorable and courageous, she knew; but that he was so +sincerely apprehensive over her welfare she had never suspected. For she +learned through his ravings that he had fought Carrington and the three +men for her; that he had deliberately sought Carrington to punish him +for the attack on her, and that he had not considered his own danger at +all. + +And at the beginning of the fourth day, when he opened his eyes and +stared wonderingly about the room, his gaze at first resting upon the +doctor, and then traveling to the girl's face, and remaining there for a +long time, while a faint smile wreathed his lips, the girl's heart beat +high with delight. + +"Well, I'm still a going it," he said weakly. + +"I remember," he went on, musingly. "When they was handing it to me, I +was thinking that I was in pretty bad shape. And then they must have +handed it to me some more, for I quit thinking at all. I'm going to pull +through--ain't I?" + +"You are!" declared the doctor. "That is," he amended, "if you keep your +trap shut and do a lot of sleeping." + +"For which I'm going to have a lot of time," smiled Taylor. "I'm going +to sleep, for I feel mighty like sleeping. But before I do any sleeping, +there's a thing I want to know. Did Carrington's men--the last two--get +away, or did I----" + +"You did," grinned the doctor. "Bothwell rode over there to find +out--and Mullarky saw them. Mullarky brought you back--and got me." + +"Carrington?" inquired the patient. + +"Mullarky saw him. He says he never saw a man so beat up in his life. +Besides, you shot him, too--in the side. Not dangerous, but a heap +painful." + +Taylor smiled and looked at Miss Harlan. "I knew you were here," he +said; "I've felt you near me. It was mighty comforting, and I want to +thank you for it. There were times when I must have shot off my mouth a +heap. If I said anything I shouldn't have said, I'm a whole lot sorry. +And I'm asking your pardon." + +"You didn't," she said, her eyes eloquent with joy over the improvement +in him. + +"Well, then, I'm going to sleep." He raised his right hand--his good +one--and waved it gayly at them--and closed his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII--A WORLD-OLD LONGING + + +Looking back upon the long period of Taylor's convalescence, Marion +Harlan could easily understand why she had surrendered to the patient. + +In the first place, she had liked Taylor from the very beginning--even +when she had affected to ridicule him on the train coming toward Dawes. +She had known all along that she had liked him, and on that morning when +she had visited the Arrow to ask about her father Taylor had woven a +magnetic spell about her. + +That meeting and the succeeding ones had merely strengthened her liking +for him. But the inevitable intimacy between nurse and patient during +several long weeks of convalescence had wrought havoc with her heart. + +Taylor's unfailing patience and good humor had been another factor in +bringing about her surrender. It was hard for her to believe that he had +fought a desperate battle which had resulted in the death of three men +and the wounding of Carrington and himself; for there were no savage +impulses or passions gleaming in the eyes that followed her every +movement while she had been busy in the sickroom for some weeks. Nor +could she see any lingering threat in them, promising more violence upon +his recovery. He seemed to have forgotten that there had been a fight, +and during the weeks that she had been close to him he had not even +mentioned it. He had been content, it seemed, to lounge in a chair and +listen to her while she read, to watch her; and there had been times +when she had seen a glow in his eyes that told her things that she +longed to hear him say. + +The girl's surrender had not been conveyed to Taylor in words, though +she was certain he knew of it; for the signs of it must have been +visible, since she could feel the blushes in her cheeks at times when a +word or a look passing between them was eloquent with the proof of her +aroused emotions. + +It was on a morning about six weeks following the incident of the +shooting that she and Taylor had walked to the river. Upon a huge flat +rock near the edge of a slight promontory they seated themselves, Taylor +turned slightly, so that she had only a profile view of him. + +Taylor's thoughts were grave. For from where he and the girl sat--far +beyond the vast expanse of green-brown grass that carpeted the big +level--he could see a huge cleft in some mountains. And the sight of +that cleft sent Taylor's thoughts leaping back to the days he and Larry +Harlan had spent in these mountains, searching for--and finding--that +gold for which they had come. And inevitably as the contemplation of the +mountains brought him recollections of Larry Harlan he was reminded of +his obligation to his old-time partner. And the difficulties of +discharging that obligation were increasing, it seemed. + +At least, Taylor's duty was not quite clear to him. For while Parsons +still retained a place in the girl's affections he could not turn over +to her Larry's share of the money he had received from the sale of the +mine. + +And Parsons did retain the girl's affections--likewise her confidence +and trust. A man must be blind who could not see that. For the girl +looked after him as any dutiful girl might care for a father she loved. +Her attitude toward the man puzzled Taylor, for, he assured himself, if +she would but merely study the man's face perfunctorily she could not +have failed to see the signs of deceit and hypocrisy in it. All of which +convinced Taylor of the truth of the old adage: "Love is blind." + +One other influence which dissuaded Taylor from an impulse to turn over +Larry's money to the girl was his determination to win her on his own +merits. That might have seemed selfishness on his part, but now that the +girl was at the Arrow he could see that she was well supplied with +everything she needed. Her legacy would not buy her more than he would +give her gratuitously. And he did not want her to think for a single +moment he was trying to buy her love. That, to his mind was gross +commercialism. + +Marion was not looking at the mountains; she was watching Taylor's +profile--and blushing over thoughts that came to her. + +For she wished that she might have met him under different +conditions--upon a basis of equality. And that was not the basis upon +which they stood now. She had come to the Arrow because she had no other +place to go, vindicating her action upon Taylor's declaration that he +had been her father's friend. + +That had been a tangible premise, and was sufficient to satisfy, or to +dull, any surface scruples he might have had regarding the propriety of +the action. But her own moral sense struck deeper than that. She felt +she had no right to be here; that Taylor had made the offer of a +partnership out of charity. And so long as she stayed here, dependent +upon him for food and shelter, she could not permit him to speak a word +of love to her--much as she wanted him to speak it. Such was the +puritanical principle driven deep into the moral fabric of her character +by a mother who had set her a bad example. + +This man had fought for her; he had risked his life to punish a man who +had wronged her in thought, only; and she knew he loved her. And yet, +seated so near him, she could not put out the hand that longed to touch +him. + +However, her thoughts were not tragic--far from it! Youth is hopeful +because it has so long to wait. And there was in her heart at this +moment a presentiment that time would sever the bonds of propriety that +held her. And the instincts of her sex--though never having been tested +in the arts of coquetry--told her how to keep his heart warm toward her +until that day, having achieved her independence, she could meet him on +a basis of equality. + +"Mr. Squint," she suddenly demanded; "what are you thinking about?" + +He turned and looked full at her, his eyes glowing with a grave humor. + +"I'd tell you if I thought you'd listen to me," he returned, +significantly. "But it seems that every time I get on that subject you +poke fun at me. Is there _anything_ I can do to show you that I love +you--that I want you more than any man ever wanted a woman?" + +"Yes--there is." Her smile was tantalizing. + +"Name it!" he demanded, eagerly. + +"Stop being tragic. I don't like you when you are tragic--or when you +are talking nonsense about love. I have heard so much of it!" + +"From me, I suppose?" he said, gloomily. + +He had turned his head and she shot a quick, eloquent glance at him. +"From you--and several others," she said, deliberately. + +There was a resentful, hurt look in his eyes when he turned and looked +at her. "Just how many?" he demanded, somewhat gruffly. + +"Jealous!" she said, shaking her finger at him. "Do you want a bill of +particulars? Because if you do," she added, looking demurely downward, +"I should have to take several days to think it over. You see, a woman +can't catalogue everything men say to her--for they say so many silly +things!" + +"Love isn't silly," he declared. He looked rather fiercely at her. "What +kind of a man do you like best?" he demanded. + +She blushed. "I like a big man--about as big as you," she said. "A man +with fierce eyes that glower at a woman when she talks to him of +love--she insisting that she hasn't quite fallen in love--with _him_. I +like a man who is jealous of the reputation of the woman he _professes_ +to love; a man who is jealous of other men; a man who isn't so very +good-looking, but who is a handsome man for all that--because he is so +very manly; a man who will fight and risk his life for me." + +"Could you name such a man?" he said. There was a scornful gleam in his +eyes. + +"I am looking at him this minute!" she said. + +Grinning, for he knew all along that she had been talking of him, he +wheeled quickly and tried to catch her in his arms. But she slipped off +the rock and was around on the other side of it, keeping it between them +while he tried to catch her. Instinctively he realized that the chase +was hopeless, but he persisted. + +"I'll never speak to you again if you catch me!" she warned, her eyes +flashing. + +"But you told me----" + +"That I liked you," she interrupted. "And liking a man isn't----" + +And then she paused and looked down, blushing, while Taylor, in the act +of vaulting over the rock, collapsed and sat on it instead, red of face +and embarrassed. + +For within a dozen paces of them, and looking rather embarrassed and +self-conscious, himself, though with a twinkle in his eyes that made +Taylor's cheeks turn redder--was Bud Hemmingway. + +"I'm beggin' your pardon," said the puncher; "but I've come to tell you +that Neil Norton is here--again. He's been settin' on the porch for an +hour or two--he says. But I think he's stretching it. Anyway, he's tired +of waitin' for you--he says--an' he's been wonderin' if you was goin' to +set on that boulder all day!" + +Taylor slipped off the rock and started toward Bud, feigning resentment. + +Bud, his face agitated by a broad grin, deliberately winked at Miss +Harlan--though he spoke to Taylor. + +"I'd be a little careful about how I went to jumpin' off boulders--you +might bust your ankle again!" + +And then Taylor grinned at Miss Harlan--who pretended a severity she did +not feel; while Bud, cackling mirthfully, went toward the ranchhouse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV--A DEATH WARRANT + + +Carrington was not a coward; he was not even a cautious man. And the +bitter malice that filled his heart, together with riotous impulses that +seethed in his brain prompted him to go straight to the Arrow, wreak +vengeance upon Taylor and drag Marion Harlan back to the big house he +had bought for her. + +But a certain memory of Taylor's face when the latter had been pursuing +him through the big house; a knowledge of Taylor's ability to inflict +punishment, together with a divination that Taylor would not hesitate to +kill him should there arise the slightest opportunity--all these +considerations served to deter Carrington from undertaking any rash +action. + +Taylor's opposition to his desires enraged Carrington. He had met and +conquered many men--and he had coolly and deliberately robbed many +others, himself standing secure and immune behind legal barriers. And he +had seen his victims writhe and squirm and struggle in the meshes he had +prepared for them. He had heard them rave and wail and threaten; but not +one of them had attempted to inflict physical punishment upon him. + +Taylor, however, was of the fighting type. On two occasions, now, +Carrington had been given convincing proof of the man's ability. And he +had seen in Taylor's eyes on the latest occasion the implacable gleam of +iron resolution and--when Taylor had gone down, fighting to the last, in +the sanguinary battle at the big house, he had not failed to note the +indomitability of the man--the tenacious and dogged spirit that knows no +defeat--a spirit that would not be denied. + +And so, though Carrington's desires would have led him to recklessly +carry the fight to the Arrow, certain dragging qualms of reluctance +dissuaded him from another meeting with Taylor on equal terms. + +And yet the malevolent passions that gripped the big man would not +tolerate the thought of opposition. Taylor was the only man who stood +between him and his desires, and Taylor must be removed. + +During the days of Carrington's confinement to his rooms above the +Castle--awaiting the slow healing of the wound Taylor had inflicted upon +him, and the many bruises that marred his face--mementoes of the +terrible punishment Taylor had inflicted upon him--the big man nursed +his venomous thoughts and laid plans for revenge upon his enemy. + +As soon as he was able to appear in Dawes--to undergo without +humiliation the inspection of his face by the citizens of the town--for +news of his punishment had been whispered broadcast--he boarded a +westbound train. + +He got off at Nogel, a little mining town sitting at the base of some +foothills in the Sangre de Christo Range, some miles from Dawes. + +He spent three days in Nogel, interrogating the resident manager of the +"Larry's Luck" mine, talking with miners and storekeepers and quizzing +men in saloons--and at the beginning of the fourth day he returned to +Dawes. + +At about the time Miss Harlan and Taylor were sitting on the rock on the +bank of the river near the Arrow, Carrington was in the courthouse at +Dawes, leaning over Judge Littlefield's desk. A tall, sleek-looking man +of middle age, with a cold, steady eye and a smooth smile, stood near +Carrington. The man was neatly attired, and looked like a prosperous +mine-owner or operator. + +But had the judge looked sharply at his hands when he gripped the one +that was held out to him when Carrington introduced the man; or had he +been a physiognomist of average ability, he could not have failed to +note the smooth softness of the man's hands and the gleam of guile and +cunning swimming deep in his eyes. + +But the judge noted none of those things. He had caught the man's +name--Mint Morton--and instantly afterward all his senses became +centered upon what the man was saying. + +For the man spoke of conscience--and the judge had one of his own--a +guilty one. So he listened attentively while the man talked. + +The thing had been bothering the man for some months--or from the time +it happened, he said. And he had come to make a confession. + +He was a miner, having a claim near Nogel. He knew Quinton Taylor, and +he had known Larry Harlan. One morning after leaving his mine on a trip +to Nogel for supplies, he had passed close to the "Larry's Luck" mine. +Being on good terms with the partners, he had thought of visiting them. +Approaching the mine on foot--having left his horse at a little +distance--he heard Taylor and Harlan quarreling. He had no opportunity +to interfere, for just as he came upon the men he saw Taylor knock +Harlan down with a blow of his fist. And while Harlan lay unconscious on +the ground Taylor had struck him on the head with a rock. + +Morton had not revealed himself, then, fearing Taylor would attack him. +He had concealed himself, and had seen Taylor, apparently remorseful, +trying to revive Harlan. These efforts proving futile, Taylor had rigged +up a drag, placed Harlan on it, and had taken him to Nogel. But Harlan +died on the way. + +To Littlefield's inquiry as to why Morton had not reported the murder +instantly, the man replied that, being a friend to Taylor, he had been +reluctant to expose him. + +After the man concluded his story the judge and Carrington exchanged +glances. There was a vindictively triumphant gleam in Littlefield's +eyes, for he still remembered the humiliation he had endured at Taylor's +hands. + +He took Morton's deposition, told him he would send for him, later; and +dismissed him. Carrington, appearing to be much astonished over the +man's confession, accompanied him to the station, where he watched him +board the train that would take him back to Nogel. + +And on the platform of one of the coaches, Carrington, grinning +wickedly, gave the man a number of yellow-backed treasury notes. + +"You think I won't have to come back--to testify against him?" asked the +man, smiling coldly. + +"Certainly not!" declared Carrington. "You've signed his death warrant +this time!" + +Carrington watched the train glide westward, and then returned to the +courthouse. He found the judge sitting at his desk, gazing meditatively +at the floor. For there had been something insincere in Morton's +manner--his story of the murder had not been quite convincing--and in +spite of his resentment against Taylor the judge did not desire to add +anything to the burden already carried by his conscience. + +Carrington grinned maliciously as he halted at Littlefield's side and +laid a hand on the other's arm. + +"We've got him, Littlefield!" he said. "Get busy. Issue a warrant for +his arrest. I'll have Danforth send you some men to serve as +deputies--twenty of them, if you think it necessary!" + +The judge cleared his throat and looked with shifting eyes at the other. + +"Look here, Carrington," he said, "I--I have some doubts about the +sincerity of that man Morton. I'd like to postpone action in this case +until I can make an investigation. It seems to me that--that Taylor, for +all his--er--seeming viciousness, is not the kind of man to kill his +partner. I'd like to delay just a little, to----" + +"And let Taylor get wind of the thing--and escape. Not by a damned +sight! One man's word is as good as another's in this country; and it's +your duty as a judge of the court, here, to act upon any complaint. You +issue the warrant. I'll get Keats to serve it. He'll bring Taylor here, +and you can legally examine him. That's merely justice!" + +Half an hour later, Carrington was handing the warrant to a big, +rough-looking man with an habitual and cruel droop to the corners of his +mouth. + +"You'd better take some men with you, Keats," suggested Carrington. +"He'll fight, most likely," he grinned, evilly. "Understand," he added; +"if you should have to kill Taylor bringing him in, there would be no +inquiry made. And--" he looked at Keats and grinned, slowly and +deliberately closing an eye. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV--KEATS LOOKS FOR "SQUINT" + + +Neil Norton had been attending to Taylor's affairs in Dawes during the +latter's illness, and he had ridden to the Arrow this morning to discuss +with Taylor a letter he had received--for Taylor--from a Denver cattle +buyer. The inquiry was for Herefords of certain markings and quality, +and Norton could give the buyer no information. So Norton had come to +Taylor for the information. + +"The herd is grazing in the Kelso Basin," Taylor told Norton. Norton +knew the Kelso Basin was at least fifteen miles distant from the Arrow +ranchhouse--a deep, wide valley directly west, watered by the same river +that flowed near the Arrow ranchhouse. + +"I can't say, offhand, whether we've got what your Denver man wants." He +grinned at Norton, adding: "But it's a fine morning for a ride, and I +haven't done much riding lately. I'll go and take a look." + +"I'll be looking, too," declared Norton. "The _Eagle_ forms are ready +for the press, and there isn't much to do." + +Later, Taylor, mounted on Spotted Tail, and Norton on a big, rangy +sorrel, the two men rode away. Taylor stopped at the horse corral gate +long enough to tell Bud Hemmingway, who was replacing a bar, that he and +Norton were riding to the Kelso Basin. + +And there was one other to whom he had spoken--when he had gone into the +house to buckle on his cartridge-belt and pistols, just before he went +out to saddle Spotted Tail. It was the girl who had tantalized him while +they had been sitting on the rock. She had not spoken frivolously to him +inside the house; instead, she had gravely warned him to be "careful;" +that his wounds might bother him on a long ride--and that she didn't +want him to suffer a relapse. And she watched him as he and Norton rode +away, following the dust-cloud that enveloped them until it vanished +into the mists of distance. Then she turned from the door with a sigh, +thinking of the fate that had made her dependent upon the charity of the +man she loved. + +To Bud Hemmingway, working at the corral gate about an hour following +the departure of Taylor and Norton, there came an insistent demand to +look toward Dawes. It was merely one of those absurd impulses founded +upon a whim provoked by self-manufactured presentiment--but Bud looked. +What he saw caused him to stand erect and stare hard at the trail +between Mullarky's cabin and the Arrow--for about two miles out came a +dozen or more riders, their horses traveling fast. + +For several seconds Bud watched intently, straining his eyes in an +effort to distinguish something about the men that would make their +identity clear. And then he dropped the hammer he had been working with +and ran to the bunkhouse, where he put on his cartridge-belt and pistol. + +Returning to the bunkhouse door, he stood in it for a time, watching the +approaching men. Then he scowled, muttering: + +"It's that damned Keats an' some of his bunch! What in hell are they +wantin' at the Arrow?" + +Bud was standing near the edge of the front gallery when Keats and his +men rode up. There were fourteen of the men, and, like their leader, +they were ill-visaged, bepistoled. + +Marion Harlan had heard the noise of their approach, and she had come to +the front door. She stood in the opening, her gaze fixed inquiringly +upon the riders, though chiefly upon Keats, whose manner proclaimed him +the leader. He looked at Bud. + +"Hello, Hemmingway!" he greeted, gruffly. "I take it the outfit ain't +in?" + +"Workin', Kelso," returned Bud. Bud's gaze at Keats was belligerent; he +resented the presence of Keats and the men at the Arrow, for he had +never liked Keats, and he knew the relations between the visitor and +Taylor were strained almost to the point of open antagonism. + +"What's eatin' you guys?" demanded Bud. + +"Plenty!" stated Keats importantly. He turned to the men. + +"Scatter!" he commanded; "an' rustle him up, if he's anywhere around! +Hey!" he shouted at a slender, rat-faced individual. "You an' Darbey +search the house! Two more of you take a look at the bunkhouse--and the +rest of you nose around the other buildin's. Keep your eyes peeled, an' +if he goes to gettin' fresh, plug him plenty!" + +"Why, what is wrong?" demanded Marion. Her face was pale with +indignation, for she resented the authoritative tone used by Keats as +much as she resented the thought of the two men entering the house +unbidden. + +Keats's face flamed with sudden passion. With a snap of his wrist he +drew his gun and trained its muzzle on Bud. + +"Wrong enough!" he snapped. He was looking at Bud while answering Miss +Harlan's question. "I'm after Squint Taylor, an' I'm goin' to get +him--that's all! An' if you folks go to interferin' it'll be the worse +for you!" + +Marion stiffened and braced herself in the doorway, her eyes wide with +dread and her lips parted to ask the question that Bud now spoke, his +voice drawling slightly with sarcasm. + +"Taylor, eh?" he said. "What you wantin' with Taylor?" + +"I'm wantin' him for murderin' Larry Harlan!" snapped Keats. + +Bud gulped, drew a deep breath and went pale. He looked at Marion, and +saw that the girl was terribly moved by Keats's words. But neither the +girl nor Bud spoke while Keats dismounted, crossed the porch, and +stopped in front of the door, which was barred by the girl's body. + +"Get out of the way--I'm goin' in!" ordered Keats. + +The girl moved aside to let him pass, and as he crossed the threshold +she asked, weakly: + +"How do you--how do they know Mr. Taylor killed Larry Harlan?" + +Keats turned on her, grinning mirthlessly. + +"How do we know anything?" he jeered. "Evidence--that's what--an' plenty +of it!" + +Keats vanished inside, and Bud, his eyes snapping with the alert glances +he threw around him, slowly backed away from the porch toward the +stable. As he turned, after backing several feet, he saw Marion walk +slowly to a rocker that stood on the porch, drop weakly into it and +cover her face with her hands. + +Gaining the stable, Bud worked fast; throwing a saddle and bridle upon +King, the speediest horse in the Arrow outfit, excepting Spotted Tail. + +With movements that he tried hard to make casual, but with an impatience +that made his heart pound heavily, he got King out and led him to the +rear of the stable. + +Some of Keats's men were running from one building to another; but he +was not Taylor, and they seemed to pay no attention to him, beyond +giving him sharp glances. + +Passing behind the blacksmith-shop, Bud heard a voice saying: + +"Dead or alive, Keats says; an' they'd admire to have him dead. I heard +Carrington tellin' Keats!" + +As the sound of the voice died away, Bud touched King's flank with the +spurs. The big horse, after a day in the stable, was impatient and eager +for a run, and he swept past the scattered buildings of the ranch with +long, swift leaps that took him out upon the plains before Keats could +complete his search of the first floor of the house. + +The two men who had searched the upper floor came downstairs, to meet +Keats in the front room. They grimly shook their heads at Keats, and at +his orders went outside to search with the other men. + +Keats stepped to the door, saw Marion sitting limply in the +rocking-chair, her shoulders convulsed with sobs, and crossed to her, +shaking her with a brutal arm. + +"Where's that guy I left standin' there? Where's he--Hemmingway?" + +"I don't know," said the girl dully. + +Keats cursed and ran to the edge of the porch. With his gaze sweeping +the buildings, the pasture, the corrals, and the wide stretch of plain +westward, he stiffened, calling angrily to his men: + +"There he goes--damn him! It's that sneakin' Bud Hemmingway, an' he's +gone to tell Taylor we're after him! He knows where Taylor is! Get your +hosses!" + +Forced to her feet by the intense activity that followed Keats's loudly +bellowed orders, the girl crossed the porch, and from a point near the +end railing watched Keats and his men clamber into their saddles and +race after Bud. For a long time she watched them--a tiny blot gliding +over the plains, followed by a larger blot--and then she walked slowly +to the rocking-chair, looked down at it as though its spaciousness +invited her; then she turned from it, entered the house, and going to +her room--where Martha was sleeping--began feverishly throwing her few +belongings into the small handbag she had brought with her from the big +house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI--KEATS FINDS "SQUINT" + + +Looking back after he had been riding for some minutes, Bud saw a dozen +or more horses break from the group of Arrow buildings and come racing +toward him, spreading out fanwise. + +"They've seen me!" breathed Bud, and he leaned over King's shoulders and +spoke to him. The animal responded with a burst of speed that brought a +smile to Bud's face. For the puncher knew that Taylor and Norton +couldn't have traveled more than a few miles in the short time that had +passed since their departure; and he knew also that in a short run--of a +dozen miles or so--there wasn't a horse in the Dawes section that could +catch King, barring, of course, Spotted Tail, the real king of range +horses. + +And so Bud bent eagerly to his work, not riding erect in the saddle as +is the fashion of the experienced cow-puncher in an unfamiliar country, +where pitfalls, breaks, draws, hidden gullies, and weed-grown barrancas +provide hazards that might bring disaster. Bud knew this section of the +country as well as he knew the interior of the bunkhouse, and with his +knowledge came a confidence that nothing would happen to him or King, +except possibly a slip into a gopher hole. + +And Bud kept scanning the country far enough ahead to keep King from +running into a gopher town. He swung the animal wide in passing +them--for he knew it was the habit of these denizens of the plains to +extend their habitat--some venturesome and independent spirits straying +far from the huddle and congestion of the multitude. + +Bud looked back many times during the first two miles, and he saw that +Keats and his men were losing ground; their horses could not keep the +pace set by the big bay flier under Bud. + +And King was not going as he could go when the necessity arrived. This +ride was a frolic for the big bay, and yet Bud knew he must not force +him, that he must conserve his wind, for if Taylor and Norton had +yielded to a whim to hurry, even King would need all his speed and +endurance to hang on. For the sorrel that had accompanied Spotted Tail +was not so greatly inferior to King that the latter could take liberties +with him. + +Bud gloated as he looked back after he had covered another mile. Keats +and his men were still losing ground, though they were not so very far +back, either--Bud could almost see the faces of the men. But that, Bud +knew, was due to the marvelous clarity of the atmosphere. + +When the sides of the big hills surrounding the level began to sweep +inward rapidly, Bud knew that the grass level was coming to an end, and +that presently he would strike a long stretch of broken country. Beyond +that was a big valley, rich and fertile, in which, according to report, +the Arrow herd should be grazing, guarded by the men of the outfit, +under Bothwell. But Kelso Basin was still nine or ten miles distant, and +Bud did not yet dare to let the big bay horse run his best. + +Still, when they flashed by a huge promontory that stood sentinel-like +above the waters of the river--a spot well remembered by Bud, because +many times while on day duty he had lain prone on its top smoking and +dreaming--King was running as lightly as a leaf before the hurricane. + +King had entered the section of broken country, with its beds of rock +and lava, and huge boulders strewn here and there, relics of gigantic +upheavals when the earth was young; and Bud was skilfully directing King +to the stretches of smooth level that he found here and there, when far +ahead he saw Taylor and Norton. + +In ten minutes he was within hailing distance, and he grinned widely +when, hearing him, they pulled their horses to a halt and, wheeling, +faced him. + +For Bud saw that they had reached a spot which would make an admirable +defensive position, should Taylor decide to resist Keats. The hills, in +their gradual inward sweep, were close together, so that their crests +seemed to nod to one another. And a little farther down, Bud knew, they +formed a gorge, which still farther on merged into a canon. It was an +ideal position for a stand--if Taylor would stand and not run for it; +and he rather thought Taylor would not run. + +Taylor had ridden toward Bud, and was a hundred feet in advance of +Norton when Bud pulled King to a halt, shouting: + +"Keats and a dozen men are right behind me--a mile; mebbe two! He's got +a warrant for you, chargin' you with murderin' Larry Harlan! I heard one +of his scum sayin' it was to be a clean-up!" + +Taylor laughed; he did not seem to be at all interested in Keats or his +men, who at that instant were riding at a pace that was likely to kill +their horses, should they be forced to maintain it. + +"Who accused me of murdering Harlan?" + +"Keats didn't say. But I heard a guy sayin' that Carrington was wantin' +Keats to take you dead!" + +The cold gleam in Taylor's eyes and the slight, stiff grin that wreathed +his lips, indicated that he had determined that Keats would have to kill +him before taking him. + +"A dozen of them, eh?" he said, looking from Bud to Norton deliberately. +"Well, that's a bunch for three men to fight, but it isn't enough to run +from. We'll stay here and have it out with them. That is," he added with +a quick, quizzical look at the two men, "if one of you is determined to +stay." + +"One of us?" flared Bud. He gazed hard at Norton, with suspicion and +belligerence in his glance. Norton flushed at the look. "I reckon we'll +both be in at the finish," added Bud. + +"Only one," declared Taylor. "We might hold a dozen men off here for a +good many hours. But if they were wise and patient they'd get us. One +man will light out for Kelso Basin to get the outfit. Settle it between +you, but be quick about it!" + +Taylor swung down from his horse, led the animal out of sight behind a +jutting crag into a sort of pocket in the side of the gorge, where there +would be no danger of the magnificent beast being struck by a bullet. +Taylor pulled his rifle from its saddle-sheath, examined the mechanism, +looked at his pistols, and then returned to where Bud Hemmingway and +Neil Norton sat on their horses. + +Bud's face was flushed and Norton was grinning. And at just the instant +Taylor came in sight of them Norton was saying: + +"Well, if you insist, I suppose I shall have to go to Kelso. There isn't +time to argue." + +Norton wheeled his horse, and, with a quick grin at Taylor, sent the +animal clattering down the gorge. + +Bud's grin at Taylor was pregnant with guilt. + +"Norton didn't want me to stay. There's lots of stubborn cusses in the +world--now, ain't they?" + +Taylor's answering smile showed that he understood. + +"Get King back here with Spotted Tail, Bud!" he directed. "And take that +pile of rocks for cover. They're coming!" + +By the time Bud did as he had been bidden, and was crouching behind a +huge mound of broken rock on the north side of the gorge, Taylor on the +southern side, with a twenty-foot passage on the comparatively level +floor of the gorge between them, and an uninterrupted sweep of narrow +level in front of them, except for here and there a jutting rock or a +boulder, they saw Keats and his men just entering the stretch of broken +country. + +The horses of the pursuing outfit were doing their best. They came on +over the stretch of treacherous trail, laboring, pounding and +clattering; singly sometimes, two and three abreast where there was +room, keeping well together, their riders urging them with quirt and +spur. For far back on the trail they had lost sight of Bud, though Keats +had remembered that Bud had said Taylor had gone to Kelso Basin, and +therefore Keats knew he was on the right trail. + +However, he did not want to let Bud get to Kelso before him to warn the +Arrow outfit; for that would mean a desperate battle with a force equal +in numbers to his own. Keats fought best when the advantages were with +him, and he knew his men were similarly constituted. And so he was +riding as hard as he dared, hoping that something would happen to Bud's +horse--that the animal might become winded or fall. A man could not tell +what _might_ happen in a pursuit of this character. + +But the thing that _did_ happen had not figured in Keats's lurid +conjectures at all. That was why, when he heard Taylor's quick +challenge, he pulled his horse up sharply, so that the animal slipped +several feet and came to a halt sidewise. + +Keats's unexpected halt brought confusion to his followers. A dozen of +them, crowding Keats hard, and not noticing their leader's halt in time, +rode straight against him, their horses jamming the narrow gorge, +kicking, snorting and squealing in a disordered and uncontrollable mass. + +When the tangle had been magically undone--the magic being Taylor's +voice again, burdened with sarcasm bearing upon their excitement--Keats +found himself nearest the nest of rocks from behind which Taylor's voice +seemed to come. + +The jutting crag behind which Taylor had concealed his horse, and where +Bud had led King, completely obstructed Keats's view of the gorge behind +the crag, toward Kelso Basin, and Keats did not know but that the entire +Arrow outfit was concealed behind the rocks and boulders that littered +the level in the vicinity. + +And so he sat motionless, slowly and respectfully raising his hands. +Noting his action, his men did likewise. + +"That's polite," came Taylor's voice coldly. "Hemmingway says you're +looking for me. What for?" + +"I've got a warrant for you, chargin' you with murderin' Larry Harlan." + +"Who accused me?" + +"Mint Morton, of Nogel." + +There was a long silence. Behind the clump of rock Taylor smiled +mirthlessly at Bud, who was watching him. For Taylor knew Mint Morton, +of Nogel, as a gambler, unscrupulous and dishonest. He had earned +Morton's hatred when one night in a Nogel saloon he had caught Morton +cheating and had forced him to disgorge his winnings. His victim had +been a miner on his way East with the earnings of five years in his +pockets. Taylor had not been able to endure the spectacle of abject +despair that had followed the man's loss of all his money. + +Taylor did not know that Carrington had hunted Morton up, paying him +well to bring the murder charge, but Taylor did know that he was +innocent of murder; and by linking Morton with Carrington he could +readily understand why Keats wanted him. He broke the silence with a +short: + +"Who issued the warrant?" + +"Judge Littlefield." + +"Well," said Taylor, "you can take it right back to him and tell him to +let Carrington serve it. For," he added, a note of grim humor creeping +into his voice, "I'm a heap particular about such things, Keats. I +couldn't let a sneak like you take me in. And I don't like the looks of +that dirty-looking outfit with you. And so I'm telling you a few things. +I'm giving you one minute to hit the breeze out of this section. If +you're here when that time is up, I down _you_, Keats! Slope!" + +Keats flashed one glance around at his men. Some of them already had +their horses in motion; others were nervously fingering their +bridle-reins. Keats sneered at the rock nest ahead of him. + +The intense silence which followed Taylor's warning lasted about ten +seconds. Then Keats's face paled; he wheeled his horse and sent it +scampering over the back trail, his men following, crowding him hard. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII--BESIEGED + + +Hemmingway tentatively suggested that a ride through the gorge toward +the Kelso Basin might simplify matters for himself and Taylor; it might, +he said, even seem to make the defending of their position unnecessary. +But his suggestions met with no enthusiasm from Taylor, who lounged +among the rocks of his place of concealment calmly smoking. + +Taylor gave some reasons for his disinclination to adopt Hemmingway's +suggestions. + +"Norton will be back in an hour, with Bothwell and the outfit." And now +he grinned as he looked at Bud. "Miss Harlan told me to be careful about +my scratches. I take it she don't want no more sieges with a sick man. +And I'm taking her advice. If I'd go to riding my horse like blazes, +maybe I _would_ get sick again. And she wouldn't take care of me +anymore. And I'd hate like blazes to run from Keats and his bunch of +plug-uglies!" + +So Hemmingway said no more on that subject. + +They smoked and talked and watched the trail for signs of Keats and his +men; while the sun, which had been behind the towering hills surrounding +the gorge, traveled slowly above them, finally blazing down from a point +directly overhead. + +It became hot in the gorge; the air was stifling and the heat +uncomfortable. Taylor did not seem to mind it, but Bud, with a vigorous +appetite, and longings that ran to flapjacks and sirup, grew impatient. + +"If a man could eat now," he remarked once, while the sun was directly +overhead, "why, it wouldn't be so bad!" + +And then, after the sun's blazing rays had begun to diminish in +intensity somewhat, Bud looked upward and saw that the shimmering orb +had passed beyond the crest of a towering hill. He looked sharply at +Taylor, who was intently watching the back trail, and said gravely: + +"Norton ought to have been back with Bothwell and the bunch, now." + +"He's an hour overdue," said Taylor, without looking at Bud. + +"I reckon somethin's happened," growled Bud. "Somethin' always happens +when a guy's holed up, like this. It wouldn't be so bad if a man could +eat a little somethin'--to sort of keep him from thinkin' of it all the +time. Or, mebbe, if there was a little excitement--or somethin'. A man +could----" + +"There'll be plenty of excitement before long," interrupted Taylor. +"Keats and his gang didn't go very far. I just saw one of them sneaking +along that rock-knob, down the gorge a piece. They're going to stalk us. +If you're thinking of riding to Kelso--why--" He grinned at Bud's +resentful scowl. + +Lying flat on his stomach, he watched the rock-knob he had mentioned. + +"Slick as an Indian," he remarked once, while Bud, having ceased his +discontented mutterings, kept his gaze on the rock also. + +And then suddenly the eery silence of the gorge was broken by the sharp +crack of Taylor's rifle, and, simultaneously, by a shriek of pain. +Report and shriek reverberated with weird, echoing cadences between the +hills, growing less distinct always and finally the eery silence reigned +again. + +"They'll know they can't get careless, now," grinned Taylor, working the +ejector of his rifle. + +Bud did not reply; and for another hour both men intently scanned the +hills within range of their vision, straining their eyes to detect signs +of movement that would warn them of the whereabouts of Keats and his +men. + +Anxiously Bud watched the rays of the sun creeping up a precipitous rock +wall at a little distance. Slowly the streak of light narrowed, growing +always less brilliant, and finally, when it vanished, Bud spoke: + +"It's comin' on night, Squint. Somethin's sure happened to Norton." He +wriggled impatiently, adding: "If we're here when night comes we'll have +a picnic keepin' them guys off of us." + +Taylor said nothing until the gorge began to darken with the shadows of +twilight. Then he looked at Bud, his face grim. + +"My stubbornness," he said shortly. "I should have taken your advice +about going to Kelso Basin--when we had a chance. But I felt certain +that Norton would have the outfit here before this. Our chance is gone, +now. There are some of Keats's men in the hills, around us. I just saw +one jump behind that rim rock on the shoulder of that big hill--there." +He indicated the spot. Then he again spoke to Bud. + +"There's a chance yet--for you. You take Spotted Tail and make a run for +the basin. I'll cover you." + +"What about you?" grumbled Bud. + +Taylor grinned, and Bud laughed. "You was only funnin' me, I reckon," he +said, earnestly. "You knowed I wouldn't slope an' leave you to fight it +out alone--now didn't you?" + +"But if a man was hungry," said Taylor, "and he knew there was grub with +the outfit----" + +"I ain't hungry no more," declared Bud; "I've quit thinkin' of flapjacks +for more than----" + +He stiffened, and the first shadows of the night were split by a long, +narrow flame-streak as his rifle crashed. And a man who had been +slipping into the shelter of a depression on the side of a hill a +hundred yards distant, tumbled grotesquely out and down, and went +sliding to the bottom of the gorge. + +As though the report of Bud's rifle were a signal, a dozen vivid jets of +fire flamed from various points in the surrounding hills, and the +silence was rent by the vicious cracking of rifles and the drone and +thud of bullets as they sped over the heads of the two men at the bottom +of the gorge and flattened themselves against the rocks of their +shelter. + +That sound, too, died away. And in the heavy, portentous stillness which +succeeded it, there came to the ears of the two besieged men the sounds +of distant shouting, faint and far. + +"It's the outfit!" said Taylor. + +And Bud, rolling over and over in an excess of joy over the coming of +the Arrow men, hugged an imaginary form and yelled: + +"Oh, Bothwell, you old son-of-a-gun! How I love you!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII--THE FUGITIVE + + +One thought dominated Marion Harlan's brain as she packed her belongings +into the little handbag in her room at the Arrow--an overpowering, +monstrous, hideous conviction that she had accepted charity from the man +who was accused of murdering her father! There was no room in her brain +for other thoughts or emotions; she was conscious of nothing but the +horror of it; of the terrible uncertainty that confronted her--of the +dread that Taylor _might_ be guilty! She wanted to believe in him--she +_did_ believe in him, she told herself as she packed the bag; she could +not accept the word of Keats as final. And yet she could not stay at the +Arrow another minute--she could not endure the uncertainty. She must go +away somewhere--anywhere, until the charge were proved, or until she +could see Taylor, to look into his eyes, there to see his guilt or +innocence. + +She felt that the charge could not be true; for Taylor had treated her +so fairly; he had been so sympathetically friendly; he had seemed to +share her grief over her father's death, and he had seemed so sincere in +his declaration of his friendliness toward the man. He had even seemed +to share her grief; and in the hallowed moments during which he had +stood beside her while she had looked into her father's room, he might +have been secretly laughing at her! + +And into her heart as she stood in the room, now, there crept a mighty +shame--and the shadow of her mother's misconduct never came so close as +it did now. For she, too, had violated the laws of propriety; and what +she was receiving was not more than her just due. And yet, though she +could blame herself for coming to the Arrow, she could not excuse +Taylor's heinous conduct if he were guilty. + +And then, the first fierce passion burning itself out, there followed +the inevitable reaction--the numbing, staggering, sorrowing realization +of loss. This in turn was succeeded by a frenzied desire to go away from +the Arrow--from everybody and everything--to some place where none of +them would ever see her again. + +She started toward the door, and met Parsons--who was looking for her. +He darted forward when he saw her, and grasped her by the shoulders. + +"What has happened?" he demanded. + +She told him, and the man's face whitened. + +"I was asleep, and heard nothing of it," he said. "So that man Keats +said they had plenty of evidence! You are going away? I wouldn't, girl; +there may have been a mistake. If I were you----" + +Her glance of horror brought Parsons' protests to an end quickly. He, +too, she thought, was under the spell of Taylor's magnetism. That, or +every person she knew was a prey to those vicious and fawning instincts +to which she had yielded--the subordination of principle to greed--of +ease, or of wealth, or of place. + +She shuddered with sudden repugnance. + +For the first time she had a doubt of Parsons--a revelation of that +character which he had always succeeded in keeping hidden from her. She +drew away from him and walked to the door, telling him that _he_ might +stay, but that she did not intend to remain in the house another minute. + +She found a horse in the stable--two, in fact--the ones Taylor had +insisted belonged to her and Martha. She threw saddle and bridle on +hers, and was mounting, when she saw Martha standing at the stable door, +watching her. + +"Yo' uncle says you goin' away, honey--how's that? An' he done say +somethin' about Mr. Squint killin' your father. Doan' you b'lieve no +fool nonsense like that! Mr. Squint wouldn't kill nobody's father! That +deputy man ain't nothin' but a damn, no-good liar!" + +Martha's vehemence was genuine, but not convincing; and the girl mounted +the horse, hanging the handbag from the pommel of the saddle. + +"You's sure goin'!" screamed the negro woman, frantic with a dread that +she was in danger of losing the girl for whom she had formed a deep +affection. + +"You wait--you hear!" she demanded; "if you leave this house I's a +goin', too!" + +Marion waited until Martha led the other horse out, and then, with the +negro woman following, she rode eastward on the Dawes trail, not once +looking back. + +And not a word did she say to Martha as they rode into the space that +stretched to Dawes, for the girl's heart was heavy with self-accusation. + +They stopped for an instant at Mullarky's cabin, and Mrs. Mullarky drew +from the girl the story of the morning's happenings. And like Martha, +Mrs. Mullarky had an abiding faith in Taylor's innocence. More--she +scorned the charge of murder against him. + +"Squint Taylor murder your father, child! Why, Squint Taylor thought +more of Larry Harlan than he does of his right hand. An' you ain't goin' +to run away from him--for the very good reason that I ain't goin' to let +you! You're upset--that's what--an' you can't think as straight as you +ought to. You come right in here an' sip a cup of tea, an' take a rest. +I'll put your horses away. If you don't want to stay at the Arrow while +Taylor, the judge, an' all the rest of them are pullin' the packin' out +of that case, why, you can stay right here!" + +Yielding to the insistent demands of the good woman, Marion meekly +consented and went inside. And Mrs. Mullarky tried to make her +comfortable, and attempted to soothe her and assure her of Taylor's +innocence. + +But the girl was not convinced; and late in the afternoon, despite Mrs. +Mullarky's protests, she again mounted her horse and, followed by +Martha, set out toward Dawes, intending to take the first east-bound +train out of the town, to ride as far as the meager amount of money in +her purse would take her. And as she rode, the sun went down behind the +big hill on whose crest sat the big house, looming down upon the level +from its lofty eminence; and the twilight came, bathing the world with +its somber promise of greater darkness to follow. But the darkness that +was coming over the world could not be greater than that which reigned +in the girl's heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX--THE CAPTIVE + + +Carrington's experiences with Taylor had not dulled the man's savage +impulses, nor had they cooled his feverish desire for the possession of +Marion Harlan. In his brain rioted the dark, unbridled passions of those +progenitors he had claimed in his talk with Parsons on the morning he +had throttled the little man in his rooms above the Castle. + +For the moment he had postponed the real beginning of his campaign for +the possession of Dawes, his venomous hatred for Taylor and his passion +for the girl overwhelming his greed. + +He had watched the departure of Keats and his men, a flush of exultation +on his face, his eyes alight with fires that reflected the malignant +hatred he felt. And when Keats and the others disappeared down the trail +that led to the Arrow, Carrington spent some time in Dawes. Shortly +after noon he rode out the river trail toward the big house with two men +that he had engaged to set the interior in order. + +Carrington had not seen the house since the fight with Taylor in the +front room, and the wreck and ruin that met his gaze as he stood in the +door brought a sullen pout to his lips. + +But he intended to exact heavy punishment for what had occurred at the +big house; and as he watched the men setting things to order--mending +the doors and repairing the broken furniture--he drew mental pictures +that made his eyes flash with pleasure. + +He felt that by this time Keats and his men should have settled with +Taylor. After that, he, himself, would make the girl pay. + +So he was having the house put in order, that it would again be +habitable; and then, when that was done, and Taylor out of the way, he +would go to the Arrow after the girl. But before he went to the Arrow he +would await the return of Keats with the news that Taylor would no +longer be able to thwart him. + +Never in his life had he met a man he feared as he feared Taylor. There +was something about Taylor that made Carrington's soul shrivel. He knew +what it was--it was his conviction of Taylor's absolute honorableness, +as arrayed against his own beastly impulses. But that knowledge merely +served to intensify his hatred for Taylor. + +Toward evening Carrington rode back to Dawes with the men; and while +there he sought news from Keats. Danforth, from whom he inquired, could +tell him nothing, and so Carrington knew that Taylor had not yet been +disposed of. But Carrington knew the time would not be long now; and in +a resort of a questionable character he found two men who listened +eagerly to his proposals. Later, the two men accompanying him, he again +rode to the big house. + +And just as dusk began to settle over the big level at the foot of the +long slope--and while the last glowing light from the day still softly +bathed the big house, throwing it into bold relief on the crest of its +flat-topped hill, Carrington was standing on the front porch, +impatiently scanning the basin for signs of Keats and his men. + +For a time he could distinguish little in the basin, for the mists of +twilight were heavy down there. And then a moving object far out in the +basin caught his gaze, and he leaned forward, peering intently, consumed +with eagerness and curiosity. + +A few minutes later, still staring into the basin, Carrington became +aware that there were two moving objects. They were headed toward Dawes, +and proceeding slowly; and at last, when they came nearer and he saw +they were two women, on horses, he stiffened and shaded his eyes with +his hands. And then he exclaimed sharply, and his eyes glowed with +triumph--for he had recognized the women as Marion Harlan and Martha. + +Moving slowly, so that he might not attract the attention of the women, +should they happen to be looking toward the big house, he went inside +and spoke shortly to the two men he had brought with him. + +An instant later the three, Carrington leading, rode into the timber +surrounding the house, filed silently through it, and with their horses +in a slow trot, sank down the long slope that led into the big basin. + +For a time they were not visible, as they worked their way through the +chaparral on a little level near the bottom of the slope; and then they +came into view again in some tall saccaton grass that grew as high as +the backs of their horses. + +They might have been swimming in that much water, for all the sound they +made as they headed through the grass toward the Dawes trail, for they +made no sound, and only their heads and the heads of their horses +appeared above the swaying grass. + +But they were seen. Martha, riding at a little distance behind Marion, +and straining her eyes to watch the trail ahead, noted the movement in +the saccaton, and called sharply to the girl: + +"They's somethin' movin' in that grass off to your right, honey! It +wouldn't be no cattle, heah; they's never no cattle round heah, fo' they +ain't no water. Lawsey!" she exclaimed, as she got a clear view of them; +"it's men!" + +Marion halted her horse. Martha's voice had startled her, for she had +not been thinking of the present; her thoughts had been centered on +Taylor. + +A shiver of trepidation ran over her, though, when she saw the men, and +she gathered the reins tightly in her hands, ready to wheel the animal +under her should the appearance of the men indicate the imminence of +danger. + +And when she saw that danger did indeed threaten, she spoke to the horse +and turned it toward the back trail. For she had recognized one of the +three men as Carrington. + +But the horse had not taken a dozen leaps before Carrington was beside +her, his hand at her bridle. And as her horse came to a halt, +Carrington's animal lunged against it, bringing the two riders close +together. Carrington leaned over, his face close to hers; she could feel +his breath in her face as he laughed jeeringly, his voice vibrating with +passion: + +"So it _is_ you, eh? I thought for a moment that I had made a mistake!" +Holding to her horse's bridle-rein with a steady pull that kept the +horses close together, he spoke sharply to the two men who had halted +near Martha: "Get the nigger! I'll take care of this one!" + +And instantly, with a brutal, ruthless strength and energy that took the +girl completely by surprise, Carrington threw a swift arm out, grasped +her by the waist, drew her out of the saddle, and swung her into his +own, crosswise, so that she lay face up, looking at him. + +She fought him then, silently, ferociously, though futilely. For he +caught her hands, using both his own, pinning hers so that she could not +use them, meanwhile laughing lowly at her efforts to escape. + +Even in the dusk she could see the smiling, savage exultation in his +eyes; the gloating, vindictive triumph, and her soul revolted at the +horror in store for her, and the knowledge nerved her to another mighty +effort. Tearing her hands free, she fought him again, scratching his +face, striking him with all her force with her fists; squirming and +twisting, even biting one of his hands when it came close to her lips as +he essayed to grasp her throat, his eyes gleaming with ruthless +malignance. + +But her efforts availed little. In the end her arms were pinned again to +her sides, and he pulled a rope from his saddle-horn and bound them. +Then, as she lay back and glared at him, muttering imprecations that +brought a mocking smile to his lips, he urged his horse forward, and +sent it clattering up the slope, the two men following with Martha. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX--PARSONS HAS HUMAN INSTINCTS + + +Elam Parsons stood on the front porch of the Arrow ranchhouse for a long +time after Marion and Martha departed, watching them as they slowly +negotiated the narrow trail that led toward Dawes. Something of the +man's guilt assailed his consciousness as he stood there--a conception +of the miserable part he had played in the girl's life. + +No doubt had not Fate and Carrington played a mean trick on Parsons, in +robbing him of his money and his prospects, the man would not have +entertained the thoughts he entertained at this moment; for success +would have made a reckoning with conscience a remote possibility, dim +and far. + +And perhaps it was not conscience that was now troubling Parsons; at +least Parsons did not lay the burden of his present thoughts upon so +intangible a chimera. Parsons was too much of a materialist to admit he +had a conscience. + +But a twinge of something seized Parsons as he watched the girl ride +away, and bitter thoughts racked his soul. He could not, however, +classify his emotions, and so he stood there on the porch, undecided, +vacillating, in the grip of a vague disquiet. + +Parsons sat on the porch until long after noon; for, after Marion and +Martha had vanished into the haze of distance, Parsons dropped into a +chair and let his chin sink to his chest. + +He did not get up to prepare food for himself; he did not think of +eating, for the big, silent ranchhouse and the gloomy, vacant appearance +of the other buildings drew the man's attention to the aching emptiness +of his own life. He had sought to gain everything--scheming, planning, +plotting dishonestly; taking unfair advantage; robbing people without +compunction--and he had gained nothing. Yes--he had gained Carrington's +contempt! + +The recollection of Carrington's treatment of him fired his passions +with a thousand licking, leaping flames. In his gloomy meditations over +the departure of the girl, he had almost forgotten Carrington. But he +thought of Carrington now; and he sat stiff and rigid in the chair, +glowering, his lips in a pout, his soul searing with hatred. + +But even the nursing of that passion failed to satisfy Parsons. +Something lacked. There was still that conviction of utter baseness--his +own baseness--to torture him. And at last, toward evening, he discovered +that he longed for the girl. He wanted to be near her; he wanted to do +something for her to undo the wrong he had done her; he wanted to make +some sort of reparation. + +So the man assured himself. But he knew that deep in his inner +consciousness lurked the dread knowledge that Taylor was aware of his +baseness. For Taylor had overheard the conversation between Carrington +and himself on the train, and Parsons feared that should Taylor by any +chance escape Keats and his men and return to the Arrow to find Marion +gone, he would vent his rage and fury upon the man who had sinned +against the woman he loved. That was the emotion which dominated Parsons +as he sat on the porch; it was the emotion that made the man fervently +desire to make reparation to the girl; it was the emotion that finally +moved him out of his chair and upon a horse that he found in the stable, +to ride toward Dawes in the hope of finding her. + +Parsons, too, stopped at the Mullarky cabin. He discovered that Marion +had left there shortly before, after having refused Mrs. Mullarky's +proffer of shelter until the charge against Taylor could be disproved. + +Parsons listened impatiently to the woman's voluble defense of Taylor, +and her condemnation of Keats and all those who were leagued against the +Arrow owner. And then Parsons rode on. + +Far out in the basin, indistinct in the twilight haze, he saw Marion and +Martha riding toward Dawes, and he urged his horse in an effort to come +up with them before they reached the bottom of the long, gradual rise +that would take them into town. + +Parsons had got within half a mile of them when he saw them halt and +wait the coming of three horsemen, who advanced toward them from the +opposite direction. Parsons did not feel like joining the group, for +just at that moment he felt as though he could not bear to have anyone +see his face--they might have discovered the guilt in it--and so he +waited. + +He saw the three men ride close to the other riders; he watched in +astonishment while one of the strange riders pursued one of the women, +catching her. + +Parsons saw it all. But he did not ride forward, for he was in the grip +of a mighty terror that robbed him of power to move. For he knew one of +the strange riders was Carrington. He would have recognized him among a +thousand other men. + +Parsons watched the three men climb the big slope that led to the great +house on the flat-topped hill. For many minutes after they had reached +the crest of the hill Parsons sat motionless on his horse, gazing +upward. And when he saw a light flare up in one of the rooms of the big +house, he cursed, his face convulsed with impotent rage. + + * * * * * + +Marion Harlan did not yield to the overpowering weakness that seized her +after she realized that further resistance to Carrington would be +useless. And instead of yielding to the hysteria that threatened her, +she clenched her hands and bit her lips in an effort to retain her +composure. She succeeded. And during the progress of her captor's horse +up the long slope she kept a good grip on herself, fortifying herself +against what might come when she and her captor reached the big house. + +When they reached the crest of the hill, Carrington ordered the two men +to take Martha around to the back of the house and confine her in one of +the rooms. One man was to guard her. The other was to wait on the front +porch until Carrington called him. + +The girl had decided to make one more struggle when Carrington +dismounted with her, but though she fought hard and bitterly, she did +not succeed in escaping Carrington, and the latter finally lifted her in +his arms and carried her into the front room, the room in which +Carrington had fought with Taylor the day Taylor had killed the three +men who had ambushed him. + +Carrington lighted a lamp--it was this light Parsons had seen from the +basin--placed it on a shelf, and in its light grinned triumphantly at +the girl. + +"Well, we are here," he said. + +In his voice was that passion that had been in it that other time, when +he had pursued her into the house, and she had escaped him by hiding in +the attic. She cringed from him, backing away a little, and, noting the +movement, he laughed hoarsely. + +"Don't worry," he said, "at least for an hour or two. I've got something +more important on my mind. Do you know what it is?" he demanded, +grinning hugely. "It's Taylor!" He suddenly seemed to remember that he +did not know why she had been abroad at dusk on the Dawes trail, and he +came close to her. + +"Did you see Keats today?" + +She did not answer, meeting his gaze fairly, her eyes flashing with +scorn and contempt. But he knew from the flame in her eyes that she had +seen Keats, and he laughed derisively. + +"So you saw him," he jeered; "and you know that he came for Taylor. Did +he find Taylor at the Arrow?" + +Again she did not answer, and he went on, suspecting that Taylor had not +been at the Arrow, and that Keats had gone to search for him. "No, Keats +didn't find him--that's plain enough. I should have enjoyed being there +to hear Keats tell you that Taylor had killed your father. You heard +that, didn't you? Yes," he added, his grin broadening; "you heard that. +So that's why you left the Arrow! Well, I don't blame you for leaving." + +He turned toward the door and wheeled again to face her. "You'll enjoy +this," he sneered; "you've been so thick with Taylor. Bah!" he added as +he saw her face redden at the insult; "I've known where you stood with +Taylor ever since I caught you flirting with him on the station platform +the day we came to Dawes. That's why you went to the Arrow from +here--refusing my attentions to _give_ yourself to the man who killed +your father!" + +He laughed, and saw her writhe under the sound of it. + +"It hurts, eh?" he said venomously; "well, this will hurt, too. Keats +went out to get Taylor, but he will never bring Taylor in--alive. He has +orders to kill him--understand? That's why I've got more important +business than you to attend to for the next few hours. I'm going to +Dawes to find out if Keats has returned. And when Keats comes in with +the news that Taylor is done for, I'm coming back here for you!" + +Calling the man who was waiting on the porch, Carrington directed him to +watch the girl; and then, with a last grin at her, he went out, mounted +his horse, and rode the trail toward Dawes. And as he rode, he laughed +maliciously, for he had not told her that the charge against Taylor was +a false one, and that, so far as he knew, Taylor was not guilty of +murdering her father. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI--A RESCUE + + +An early moon stuck a pallid rim over the crest of the big, hill-like +plateau as Parsons sat on his horse in the basin, and Parsons watched it +rise in its silvery splendor and bathe the world with an effulgent glow. +It threw house and timber on the plateau crest in bold relief, a dark +silhouette looming against a flood of shimmering light, and Parsons +could see the porch he knew so well, and could even distinguish the +break in the timber that led to the house, which merged into the trail +that stretched to Dawes. + +Parsons was still laboring with the devils of indecision and doubt. He +knew why Carrington had captured Marion, and he yearned to take the girl +from the man--for her own sake, and for the purpose of satisfying his +vengeance. But he knew that certain death awaited him up there should he +venture to show himself to Carrington. And yet a certain desperate +courage stole into Parsons as he watched from the basin, and when, about +half an hour after he had seen the flicker of light filter out of one of +the windows of the house, he saw a man emerge, mount a horse, and ride +away, he drew a deep breath of resolution and urged his own horse up the +slope. For the man who had mounted the horse up there was +Carrington--there could be no doubt of that. + +Shivering, though still obeying the courageous impulse that had seized +him, Parsons continued to ascend the slope. He went half way and then +halted, listening. No sound disturbed the solemn stillness that had +followed Carrington's departure. + +Reassured, though by this time he was sweating coldly, Parsons +accomplished the remainder of the intervening space upward. Far back in +the timber he brought his horse to a halt, dismounted, and again +listened. Hearing nothing that alarmed him, except a loud, angry voice +from the rear of the house--a voice which he knew as Martha's--he +cautiously made his way to the front porch, tiptoed across it, and +peered stealthily into the room out of which the light still shone, its +flickering rays stabbing weakly into the outside darkness. + +Looking into the room, Parsons could see Marion sitting in a chair. Her +hands were bound, and she was leaning back in the chair, her hair +disheveled, her face chalk-white, and her eyes filled with a haunting, +terrible dread. Near the door, likewise seated on a chair, his back to +the big room that adjoined the one in which he sat, was a +villainous-looking man who was watching the girl with a leering grin. + +The sight brought a murderous passion into Parsons' heart, nerving him +for the deed that instantly suggested itself to him. He crept off the +porch again, moving stealthily lest he make the slightest sound that +would warn the watcher at the door, and searched at a corner of the +porch until he found what he was looking for--a heavy club, a spoke from +one of the wheels of a wagon. + +Parsons knew about where to find it, for during the days that he had sat +on the porch nursing his resentment against Carrington, he had gazed +long at the wagon-spoke, wishing that he might have an opportunity to +use it on Carrington. + +He took it, balancing it, testing its weight. And now a hideous terror +seized him, almost paralyzing him. For though Parsons had robbed many +men, he had never resorted to violence; and for a time he stood with the +club in his hand, unable to move. + +He moved at last, though, his face transformed from the strength of the +passion that had returned, and he carefully stepped on the porch, +crossed it, and stood, leaning forward, peering into the room through +the outside door left open by Carrington. The outside door opened from +the big room adjoining that in which the watcher sat, and Parsons could +see the man, who, with his back toward the door, was still looking at +Marion. + +Entering the big room, Parsons saw Marion's eyes widen as she looked +full at him. He shook his head at her; her face grew whiter, and she +began to talk to the other man. + +Only a second or two elapsed then until Parsons struck. The man rolled +out of his chair without a sound, and Parsons, leaping over him, +trembling, his breath coming in great gasps, ran to Marion and unbound +her hands. + +Together they flew outside, where they found the girl's horse tethered +near a tree, and Parsons' animal standing where he had left it. + +Mounting, the girl whispered to Parsons. She was trembling, and her +voice broke with a wailing quaver when she spoke: + +"Where shall we go, Elam--where? We--I can't go back to the Arrow! Oh, I +just can't! And Carrington will be back! Oh! isn't there any _way_ to +escape him?" + +"We'll go to Dawes, girl; that's where we'll go!" declared Parsons, his +dread and fear of the big man equaling that of the girl. "We'll go to +Dawes and tell them there just what kind of a man Carrington is--and +what he has tried to do with you tonight! There must be some men in +Dawes who will not stand by and see a woman persecuted!" + +And as they rode the river trail toward the town, the girl, white and +silent, riding a little distance ahead of him, Parsons felt for the +first time in his life the tingling thrills that come of an unselfish +deed courageously performed. And the experience filled him with the +spirit to do other good and unselfish deeds. + +They rode fast for a time, until the girl again spoke of Carrington's +announced intention to return shortly. Then they rode more cautiously, +and it was well they did. For they had almost reached Dawes when they +heard the whipping tread of a horse's hoofs on the trail, coming toward +them. They rode well back from the trail, and, concealed by some heavy +brush, saw Carrington riding toward the big house. He went past them, +vanishing into the shadows of the trees that fringed the trail, and for +a long time the girl and Parsons did not move for fear Carrington might +have slowed his horse and would hear them. And when they did come out of +their concealment and were again on the Dawes trail, they rode fast, +with the dread of Carrington's wrath to spur them on. + + * * * * * + +It _had_ been Martha's voice that Parsons had heard when he had been +standing in the timber near the front of the house. The negro woman was +walking back and forth in the room where her captor had confined her, +vigorously berating the man. She was a dusky thundercloud of wrath, who +rumbled verbal imprecations with every breath. Her captor--a small man +with a coarse voice, a broken nose, and a scraggy, drooping +mustache--stood in the doorway looking at her fiercely, with obvious +intent to intimidate the indignant Amazon. + +At the instant Parsons heard her voice she was confronting the man, her +eyes popping with fury. + +"You let me out of heah this minute, yo' white trash! Yo' heah! An' +doan' you think I's scared of you, 'cause I ain't! If you doan' hop away +from that do', I's goin' to mash yo' haid in wif this yere chair! You +git away now!" + +The man grinned. It was a forced grin, and his face whitened with it, +betraying to Martha the fear he felt of her--which she had suspected +from the moment he had brought her in and the light from the kitchen +lamp shone on his face. + +She took a threatening step toward him; a tentative movement, a testing +of his courage. And when she saw him retreat from her slightly, she +lunged at him, raising the chair she held in her hands. + +Possibly the man was reluctant to resort to violence; he may have had a +conviction that the detaining of Martha was not at all necessary to the +success of Carrington's plan to subjugate the white girl, or he might +have been merely afraid of Martha. Whatever his thoughts, the man +continued to retreat from the negro woman, and as she pursued him, her +courage grew, and the man's vanished in inverse ratio. And as he passed +the center of the kitchen, he wheeled and ran out of the door, Martha +following him. + +Outside, the man ran toward the stable. For an instant Martha stood +looking after him. Then, thinking Carrington was still in the house, and +that there was no hope of her frightening him as she had frightened the +little man who had stood guard over her, she ran to where her horse +stood, clambered into the saddle, and sent the animal down the big slope +toward Mullarky's cabin, where she hoped to find Mullarky, to send him +to the big house to rescue the girl from Carrington. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII--TAYLOR BECOMES RILED + + +By the time Bud Hemmingway had finished his grotesque expression of the +delight that had seized him, and had got to his knees and was grinning +widely at Taylor, the horses of the Arrow outfit were running down the +neck of the gorge, their hoofs drumming on the hard floor of the bottom, +awakening echoes that filled the gorge with an incessant rumbling +clatter that might have caused one to think a regiment of cavalry was +advancing at a gallop. + +Bud turned his gaze up the gorge and saw them. + +"Ain't they great!" he yelled at Taylor. The leap in Bud's voice +betrayed something of the strained tenseness with which the man had +endured his besiegement. + +And now that there was an even chance for him, Bud's old humorous and +carefree impulses were again ascendant. He got to his feet, grinning, +the spirit of battle in his eyes, and threw a shot at a Keats man, far +up on a hillside, who had left his concealment and was running upward. +At the report of the rifle the man reeled, caught himself, and continued +to clamber upward, another bullet from Bud's rifle throwing up a dust +spray at his feet. + +Other figures were now running; the slopes of the hills in the vicinity +were dotted with moving black spots as the Keats men, also hearing the +clattering of hoofs, and divining that their advantage was gone, made a +concerted break for their horses, which they had hidden in a ravine +beyond the hills. + +Taylor did not do any shooting. While Bud was standing erect among the +pile of rocks which had served as a shelter for him during the +afternoon, his rifle growing hot in his hands, and picturesque curses +issued from his lips, Taylor walked to Spotted Tail and tightened the +saddle cinches. This task did not take him long, but by the time it was +finished the Arrow outfit had dispersed the Keats men, who were fleeing +toward Dawes in scattered units. + +Bothwell, big and grim, rode to where Taylor was standing, his voice +booming as he looked sharply at Taylor. + +"I reckon we got here just in time, boss!" he said. "They didn't git you +or Bud? No?" at Taylor's grin. "Well, we're wipin' them out--that's all! +That Keats bunch can't run in no raw deal like that on the Arrow--not +while I'm range boss. Law? Bah! Every damned man that runs with Keats +would have stretched hemp before this if they'd have been any law in the +country! A clean-up, eh--that's what they tryin' to pull off. Well, +watch my smoke!" + +His voice leaping with passion, Bothwell slapped his horse sharply, and +as the animal leaped down the trail toward Dawes, Bothwell shouted to +the other men of the outfit, who had halted at a little distance back in +the gorge: + +"Come a runnin', you yaps! That ornery bunch can't git out of this +section without hittin' the basin trail!" + +Bothwell and the others fled down the gorge like a devastating whirlwind +before Taylor could offer a word of objection. + +As a matter of fact, Taylor had paid little attention to Bothwell's +threats. He knew that the big range boss was in a bitter rage, and he +had been aware of the ill-feeling that had existed for some time between +Keats and his friends and the men of the Arrow outfit. + +But the deserved punishment of Keats was not the burden his mind carried +at this instant. Dominating every other thought in Taylor's brain was +the obvious, naked fact that Carrington had struck at him again; that he +had struck underhandedly, as usual; and that he would continue to fight +with that method until he was victorious or beaten. + +And yet Taylor was not so much concerned over the blow that had been +aimed at him as he was of its probable effect upon Marion Harlan. For of +course the girl had heard of the charge by this time--or she would hear +of it. It would be all the same in the end. And at a blow the girl's +faith in him would be destroyed--the faith that he had been nurturing, +and upon which he had built his hopes. + +To be sure he had Larry Harlan's note to show her, to convince her of +his innocence, but he knew that once the poison of suspicion and doubt +got into her heart, she could never give him that complete confidence of +which he had dreamed. She might, now that Carrington had spread his +poison, conclude that he had forged the note, trusting in it to disarm +the suspicions of herself and of the world. And if she were to demand +why he had not shown her the note before--when she had first come to the +Arrow--he could not tell her that he had determined never to show it to +her, lest she understand that he knew her mother's sordid history. That +secret, he had promised himself, she would never know; nor would she +ever know of the vicious significance of that conversation he had +overheard between Carrington and Parsons on the train coming to Dawes. +He was convinced that if she knew these things she would never be able +to look him in the eyes again. + +Therefore, knowing the damage Carrington had wrought by bringing the +charge of murder against him, Taylor's rage was now definitely centered +upon his enemy. The pursuit and punishment of Keats was a matter of +secondary consideration in his mind--Bothwell and the men of the outfit +would take care of the man. But Taylor could no longer fight off the +terrible rage that had seized him over the knowledge of Carrington's +foul methods, and when he mounted Spotted Tail and urged him down the +trail toward the Arrow ranchhouse, there was a set to his lips that +caused Norton, who had brought his horse to a halt near him, to look +sharply at him and draw a quick breath. + +Not speaking to Norton, nor to Bud--who had also remained to watch +him--Taylor straightened Spotted Tail to the trail and sent him flying +toward the Arrow. Taylor looked neither to the right nor left, nor did +he speak to Norton and Bud, who rode hard after him. Down the trail at a +point where the neck of the gorge broadened and merged into the grass +level that stretched, ever widening, to the Arrow, Spotted Tail and his +rider flashed past a big cluster of low hills from which came +flame-streaks and the sharp, cracking reports of rifles, the yells of +men in pain, and the hoarse curses of men in the grip of the fighting +rage. + +But Taylor might not have heard the sounds. Certainly he could not have +seen the flame-streaks, unless he glimpsed them out of the corners of +his eyes, for he did not turn his head as he urged Spotted Tail on, +speeding him over the great green sweep of grass at a pace that the big +horse had never yet been ridden. + +Laboring behind him, for they knew that something momentous impended, +Norton and Bud tried their best to keep up with the flying beast ahead +of them. But the sorrel ridden by Norton, and even the great, rangy, +lionhearted King, could not hold the pace that Spotted Tail set for +them, and they fell slowly back until, when still several miles from the +Arrow, horse and rider vanished into the dusk ahead of them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII--RETRIBUTION + + +Twice descending the long slope leading to the basin, Martha's horse +stumbled. The first time the negro woman lifted him to his feet by +jerking sharply on the reins, but when he stumbled the second time, +Martha was not alert and the horse went to his knees. Unprepared, Martha +was jolted out of the saddle and she fell awkwardly, landing on her +right shoulder with a force that knocked the breath out of her. + +She lay for a short time, gasping, her body racked with pain, and at +last, when she succeeded in getting to her feet, the horse had strayed +some little distance from her and was quietly browsing the tops of some +saccaton. + +It was several minutes before Martha caught the animal--several minutes +during which she loosed some picturesque and original profanity that +caused the experienced range horse to raise his ears inquiringly. + +Then, when she caught the horse, she had some trouble getting into the +saddle, though she succeeded after a while, groaning, and grunting, and +whimpering. + +But Martha forgot her pains and misery once she was in the saddle again, +and she rode fast, trembling with eagerness, her sympathies and her +concern solely for the white girl who, she supposed, was a prisoner in +the hands of the ruthless and unprincipled man that Martha, with her +limited vocabulary, had termed many times a "rapscallion." + +Martha headed her horse straight for the Mullarky cabin, guided by a +faint shaft of light that issued from one of its windows. + +When she reached the cabin she found no one there but Mrs. Mullarky. +Ben, Mrs. Mullarky told Martha, had gone to Dawes--in fact, he had been +in Dawes all day, she supposed, for he had left home early that morning. + +Martha gasped out her news, and Mrs. Mullarky's face whitened. While +Martha watched her in astonishment, she tore off the gingham apron that +adorned her, threw it into a corner, and ran into another room, from +which she emerged an instant later carrying a rifle. + +The Irishwoman's face was pale and set, and the light of a great wrath +gleamed in her eyes. Martha, awed by the woman's belligerent appearance, +could only stand and blink at her, her mouth gaping with astonishment. + +"You go right on to the Arrow!" she commanded Martha, as she went out of +the door; "mebbe you'll find somebody there by this time, an' if you do, +send them to the big house. I'm goin' over there right this minute to +take that dear little girl away from that big brute!" + +She started while Martha was again painfully mounting her horse, and the +two women rode away in opposite directions--Martha whimpering with pain, +and Mrs. Mullarky silent, grim, with a wild rage gripping her heart. + + * * * * * + +Taylor, on Spotted Tail, was approaching the Arrow ranchhouse at a speed +slightly greater than that into which the big horse had fallen shortly +after he had left the gorge. The spirited animal was just warming to his +work, and he was doing his best when he flashed past the big cattle +corral, going with the noise of rushing wind. In an instant he was at +the long stretch of fence which formed the ranchyard side of the horse +corral, and in another instant he was sliding to a halt near the edge of +the front porch of the ranchhouse itself. There he drew a deep breath +and looked inquiringly at his master, while the latter slid off his +back, leaped upon the porch, and with a bound crossed the porch floor, +knocking chairs helter-skelter as he went. + +The house was dark, but Taylor ran through the rooms, calling sharply +for Parsons and Marion, but receiving no reply. When he emerged from the +house his face, in the light of the moon that had climbed above the +horizon some time before, was like that of a man who has just looked +upon the dead face of his best friend. + +For Taylor was convinced that he had looked upon death in the +ranchhouse--upon the death of his hopes. He stood for an instant on the +porch, while his passions raged through him, and then with a laugh of +bitter humor he leaped on Spotted Tail. + +Half-way to the Mullarky cabin, with the big horse running like the +wind, Taylor saw a shape looming out of the darkness ahead of him. He +pulled Spotted Tail down, and loosed one of his pistols, and approached +the shape warily, his muscles stiff and taut and ready for action. + +But it was only Martha who rode up to him. Her fortitude gone, her pains +convulsing her, she wailed to Taylor the story of the night's tragic +adventure. + +"An' Carrington's got missy in the big house!" she concluded. "She fit +him powerful hard, but it was no use--that rapscallion too much fo' +her!" + +She shouted the last words at Taylor, for Spotted Tail had received a +jab in the sides with the rowels that hurt him cruelly, and, angered, he +ran like a deer with the hungry cry of a wolf-pack in his ears. + +Like a black streak they rushed by Mrs. Mullarky, who breathed a +fervent, "Oh, thank the Lord, it's Taylor!" and before the good woman +could catch her breath again, Spotted Tail and his rider had opened a +huge, yawning space between himself and the laboring horse the woman +rode. + +Riding with all his muscles taut as bowstrings, and a terrible, +constricting pressure across his chest--so mighty were the savage +passions that rioted within him--Taylor reached the foot of the long +slope that led to the big house, and sent Spotted Tail tearing upward +with rapid, desperate leaps. + + * * * * * + +When Carrington reached the big house soon after he had unknowingly +passed Marion Harlan and Parsons on the river trail, he was in a sullen, +impatient mood. + +For no word concerning Keats's movements had reached Dawes, and +Carrington was afflicted with a gloomy presentiment that something had +happened to the man--that he had not been able to locate Taylor, or that +he had found him and Taylor had succeeded in escaping him. + +Carrington did not go at once into the house, for captive though she +was, and completely within his power, he did not want the girl to see +him in his present mood. Lighting a cigar, and chewing it viciously, he +walked to the stable. There, standing in the shadow of the building, he +came upon the guard Martha had routed. He spoke sharply to the man, +asking him why he was not inside guarding the "nigger." + +The man brazenly announced that Martha had escaped him, omitting certain +details and substituting others from his imagination. + +"If she hadn't been a woman, now," added the man in self-extenuation. + +Carrington laughed lowly. "We didn't need _her_, anyway," he said, and +the other laughed with him. + +The laugh restored Carrington's good-nature, and he left the man and +went into the front room of the house. Had he paused on the porch to +listen, or had he glanced toward the big slope that dropped to the +basin, he would not have entered the house just then. And he _would_ +have paused on the porch had it not been that the intensity of his +desires drove him to concentrate all his senses upon Marion. + +He crossed the porch and entered the room, and then halted, staring +downward with startled eyes at the body of the guard huddled on the +floor, a thin stream of blood staining the carpet beneath his head. + +Cursing, Carrington stepped into the other room--the room in which he +had fought with Taylor--the room in which he had left Marion Harlan +bound and sitting on a chair. The lamp on the shelf was still burning, +and in its light Carrington saw the rope he had used to bind the girl's +hands. + +A bitter rage seized him as he looked at the rope, and he threw it from +him, cursing. In an instant he was outside the house and had leaped upon +his horse. He headed the animal toward the long slope leading to the +Arrow trail, for he suspected the girl would go straight back there, +despite any conviction she might have of Taylor's guilt--for there she +would find Parsons, who would give her what comfort he could. Or she +might stop at the Mullarky cabin. Certainly she would not go to Dawes, +for she must know that _he_ ruled Dawes--Parsons must have told her +that--and that if she went to Dawes, she would be merely postponing her +surrender to him. + +He had plenty of time, even if she were in Dawes, he meditated as he +sent his horse over the crest of the slope, for there were no trains out +of the town during the night, and if she were not at the Arrow or +Mullarky's, he was sure to catch her later. + +He was half-way down the slope, his horse making slow work of threading +its way through the gnarled chaparral growth, when, looking downward, he +saw another horse leaping up the slope toward him. + +In the glare of the moon that was behind Carrington, he could see horse +and rider distinctly, and he jerked his own horse to a halt, cursing +horribly. For the horse that was leaping toward him like a black demon +out of the night was Spotted Tail. And Spotted Tail's rider was Taylor. +Carrington could see the man's face, with the terrible passion that +distorted it, and Carrington wheeled his horse, making frenzied efforts +to escape up the slope. + +Carrington was not more than a hundred feet from the big black horse and +its indomitable rider when he wheeled his own animal, and he had not +traveled more than a few feet when he realized that Spotted Tail was +gaining rapidly. + +Cursing again, though his face was ghastly with the fear that had seized +him, Carrington slipped from his horse, and, running around so that the +animal was between him and Taylor, he drew a heavy pistol from a +hip-pocket. And when the oncoming horse and rider were within +twenty-five or thirty feet of him, Carrington took deliberate aim and +fired. + +He grinned vindictively as he saw Taylor reel in the saddle, and he +fired again, and saw Taylor drop to the ground beside Spotted Tail. + +Carrington could not tell whether his second shot had struck Taylor, and +before he could shoot again, Taylor dove headlong toward a jagged rock +that thrust a bulging shoulder upward. Carrington threw a snapshot at +him as he leaped, but again he could not have told whether the bullet +had gone home. + +Keeping the horse between himself and the rock behind which Taylor had +thrown himself, Carrington leaped behind another that stood near the +edge of the chaparral clump through which he had been riding when he had +seen Taylor coming up the slope. Seeming to sense their danger, both +horses slowly moved off out of the line of fire and proceeded +unconcernedly to browse the clumps of grass that dotted the side of the +slope. + +And now began a long, strained silence. Carrington could see Taylor's +rock, but it was at the edge of the chaparral, and Taylor might easily +slip into the chaparral and begin a circling movement that would bring +him behind Carrington. The thought brought a damp sweat out upon +Carrington's forehead, and he began to cast fearing glances toward the +chaparral at his side. He watched it long, and the longer he watched, +the greater grew his fear. And at last, at the end of half an hour, the +fear grew to a conviction that Taylor was stalking him in the chaparral. +No longer able to endure the suspense, Carrington left the shelter of +his rock and began to work his way around the edge of the chaparral +clump. + +Taylor had felt the heat and the shock of Carrington's first bullet, and +he knew it had gone into his left arm. The second bullet had missed him +cleanly, and he landed behind the rock, with all his senses alert, +paying no attention to his wound. + +He had recognized Carrington, and with the cold calm that comes with +implacable determination, Taylor instantly began to take an inventory of +the hazards and the advantages of his position. And after his +examination was concluded, he dropped to his hands and knees and began +to work his way into the chaparral. + +He moved cautiously, for he knew that should he disturb the rank growth +he would disclose his whereabouts to Carrington, should the latter have +gained a vantageous point from where he could watch the thicket for just +such signs of Taylor's presence. + +But Taylor made no such signs; he had not spent the greater part of his +life in the open to be outdone in this grim strategy by an eastern man. +He grinned wickedly at the thought. + +He suspected that Carrington might try the very trick he himself was +trying, and that thought made him wary. + +Working his way into the thicket, he at last reached a point near its +center, upon a slight mound surrounded by stunt oak and quivering aspen. +There, concealed and alert, he waited for Carrington to show himself. + +Carrington, though, did not betray his presence in the thicket. For +Carrington was not in the thicket when Taylor reached its center. +Carrington had started into the thicket, but he had not proceeded very +far when he began to be afflicted with a dread premonition of Taylor's +presence somewhere in the vicinity. + +A clammy sweat broke out on the big man; a panic of fear seized him, and +he began to creep backward, out of the thicket. And by the time Taylor +reached his vantagepoint, Carrington was crouching at the thicket's +edge, near the rock where he had been concealed, oppressed with a +conviction that Taylor was working his way toward him through the +thicket. + +The big man waited, his nerves taut, his muscles quivering and cringing +at the thought that any instant a bullet sent at him by Taylor might +strike him. For he knew that Taylor had come for him; he was now +convinced that Marion Harlan _had_ gone to the Arrow, that she had told +Taylor what had happened to her, and that Taylor had come straight to +the big house to punish him for his misdeeds. + +And Carrington had a dread of the sort of punishment Taylor had dealt +him upon a former occasion, and he wanted no more of it. That was why he +had used his pistol instantly upon recognizing Taylor. He wished, now, +that he had not been so hasty; for he had taken the initiative, and +Taylor would not scruple to imitate him. + +In fact, he was so certain that at that moment Taylor was creeping upon +him from some point with the fury of murder in his heart, that he got to +his feet and, looking over the top of the rock, searched with wild eyes +for his horse. And when he saw the animal not more than twenty or thirty +feet from him, he could not longer resist the panic that had seized him. +Crouching, he ran for several yards on his hands and feet and then, +nearing his horse, he stood upright and ran for it. + +As he ran he cringed, for he expected a pistol-shot to greet his +appearance at the side of his horse. But no report came, and he reached +the horse, threw himself into the saddle and raced the animal down the +slope. + +He was conscious of a pulse of elation, for he thought he had eluded +Taylor, but just as his horse struck the edge of the big level +Carrington looked back, to see Spotted Tail slipping down the slope with +a smooth swiftness that terrified the big man. + +He turned then and began to ride as he had never ridden before. The +animal under him was strong, courageous, and speedy; but Carrington knew +he would have need of all those sterling qualities if he hoped to escape +the iron-hearted horse Taylor bestrode. And so Carrington leaned +forward, trying to lighten the load, slapping the beast's neck with the +palm of his hand, urging him with his voice--coaxing him to the best +endeavors. For Carrington knew that somewhere in the vast expanse of +grass land and spread before him Keats and his men must be. And his only +hope lay in reaching them before the avenger, astride the big horse that +was speeding on his trail like a black thunderbolt, could bring his +rider within pistol-shot distance of him. + +But Carrington had not gone more than half a mile when he realized that +the race was to be a short one. Twice after leaving the edge of the +slope Carrington looked back. The first time Spotted Tail seemed to be +far away; and the next time the big, black animal was so close that +Carrington cried out hoarsely. + +And then as Carrington felt the distance being shortened--as he felt the +presence of the black horse almost at the withers of his own +animal--heard the breathing of the big pursuing beast, he knew that he +was not to be shot. + +Before he could swing his own horse to escape, the big, black horse was +beside his own, and one of Taylor's arms shot out, the fingers gripping +the collar of the big man's coat. Then with a vicious pull, swinging the +black horse wide, Taylor jerked Carrington out of the saddle, so that he +fell sidewise into the deep grass--while the black horse, eager for a +run, and not immediately responding to Taylor's pull on the reins, ran +some feet before he halted and wheeled. + +And when he did finally face toward the spot where the big man had been +jerked from the saddle, it was to face a succession of flame-streaks +that shot from the spot where Carrington stood trying his best to send +into Taylor a bullet that would put an end to the horrible presentiment +of death that now filled the big man's heart. + +He emptied his pistol and saw the black horse coming steadily toward +him, its rider erect in the saddle, seeming not to heed the savagely +barking weapon. And when the gun was empty, Carrington threw it from him +and began to run. He ran, and with grim mockery, Taylor followed him a +little distance--followed him until Carrington, exhausted, his breath +coming in great coughing gasps, could run no farther. And then Taylor +brought the big black to a halt near him, slid easily out of the saddle, +and stepped forward to look into Carrington's face, his own stiff and +set, his eyes gleaming with a passion that made the other man groan +hopelessly. + +"Now, you miserable whelp!" said Taylor. + +He lunged forward and the bodies of the two men made a swaying blot out +of which came the sounds of blows, bitter and savage. + + * * * * * + +The little broken-nosed man laughed a little in recollection of +Carrington's words about Martha. The big man had let him off easily, and +he was properly grateful. And yet his gratitude did not prevent him from +betraying curiosity; and he watched the front of the house for +Carrington's reappearance, wondering what he meant to do with the white +girl, now that he had her. + +Still watching the front porch, he saw Carrington run for his horse, +leap upon it and sink down the side of the slope. + +The little man then ran to the front of the house and, concealed among +the trees, watched the duel that was waged in the moonlight. He saw +Carrington break from the thicket, mount his horse and race out into the +plain; he saw Taylor--for he had recognized him--send Spotted Tail after +Carrington. But he did not see the finish of the race, nor did he see +what followed. But some minutes later he saw a big, black horse tearing +toward him from the spot where the race had ended. He muttered +gutturally and profanely, leaped on his horse and sent it plunging down +the trail toward Dawes, his face ghastly with fear. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV--THE WILL OF THE MOB + + +Parsons had always been an unemotional man. His own character being +immune to the little twinging impulses of humanness that grow to +generous and unselfish deeds, he had looked with derision upon all +persons who betrayed concern for their fellow-men. And so Parsons had +lived apart from his fellows; he had watched them from across the gulf +of disinterest, where emotion was foreign. + +But tonight Parsons was learning what emotion is. Not from others, but +from himself. Emotions--thousands of them seethed in his brain and +heart. He was in an advanced state of hysteria when he rode down the +Dawes trail with Marion Harlan. For there was the huge, implacable, +ruthless, and murderous Carrington, whom he had just passed on the +trail, to menace his very life--and he knew that just as soon as +Carrington returned to the big house and found Marion gone and the guard +dead, he would ride back to Dawes, seeking vengeance. And Carrington +would know it was Parsons who had robbed him of the girl; for Carrington +would inquire, and would discover that he had ridden into town with +Marion. And when Parsons and Marion rode into Dawes fear, stark, abject, +and naked, was in the man's soul. + +Dawes was aflame with light as the two passed down the street; and +Parsons left the girl to sit on her horse in front of a darkened store, +while he rode down the street, peering into other stores, alight and +inviting. He hardly knew what he did want. He knew, however, that there +was little time, for at any minute now Carrington might come thundering +into town on his errand of vengeance; and whatever Parsons did must be +done quickly. + +He chose the second store he came to. He thought the place was a +billiard-room until he entered and stood just inside the door blinking +at the lights; and then he knew it was a saloon, for he saw the bar, the +back-bar behind it, littered with bottles, and many tables scattered +around. More, there were perhaps a hundred men in the place--some of +them drinking; and at the sight of them all, realizing the mightiness of +their number, Parsons raised his hands aloft and screamed frenziedly: + +"Men! There's been a crime committed tonight! At the Huggins house! +Carrington did it! He abducted my niece! I want you men to help me! +Carrington is going to kill me! And I want you to protect my niece!" + +For an instant after Parsons' voice died in a breathless gasp, for he +blurted his story, the words coming in a stream, with hardly a pause +between them; there was an odd, strained silence. Then a man far back in +the room guffawed loudly: + +"Plumb loco. Too much forty-rod!" + +There was a half-hearted gale of laughter at the man's taunt; and then +many men were around Parsons, ready to laugh and jeer. And while some of +the men peered at Parsons, cynically inspecting him for signs of +drunkenness, several others ran to the open door and looked out into the +street. + +"There's somethin' in his yappin', boys," stated a man who returned from +the door; "there's a gal out here, sure enough, setting on a hoss, +waitin'." + +There was a concerted rush outside to see the girl, and Parsons was +shoved and jostled until he, too, was forced to go out. And by the time +Parsons reached Marion's side she had been questioned by the men. And +wrathful curses arose from the lips of men around her. + +"Didn't I know he was that kind of a skunk!" shouted a man near Parsons. +"I knowed it as soon as he beat Taylor out of the election!" + +"I'm for stringin' the scum up!" yelled another man. "This town can git +along without guys that go around abductin' wimmen!" + +There were still other lurid and threatening comments. And many profane +epithets rose, burdened with menace, for Carrington. But the girl, +humiliated, weak, and trembling, did not hear all of them. She saw other +men emerging from doorways--all of them running toward her to join those +who had come out of the saloon. And then she saw a woman coming toward +her, the men making a pathway for her--a motherly looking woman who, +when she came near the girl, smiled up at her sympathetically and +reached up her hands to help the girl out of the saddle. + +Marion slipped down, and the woman's arms went around her. And with many +grimly pitying glances from the men in the crowd about her, which parted +to permit her to pass, she was led into a private dwelling at a little +distance down the street, into a cozy room where there were signs of +decency and refinement. The woman placed the girl in a chair, and stood +beside her, smoothing her hair and talking to her in low, comforting +tones; while outside a clamor rose and a confused mutter of many voices +out of which she began to catch sentences, such as: + +"Let's fan it to the big house an' git him!" + +"There's too many crooks in this town--let's run 'em out!" + +"What in hell did he come here for?" + +"Judge Littlefield is just as bad--he cheated Taylor out of the +election!" "That's right," answered another voice. "Taylor's our man!" + +"They are all wrought up over this, my dear," said the woman. "For a +long time there has been an undercurrent of dissatisfaction over the way +they cheated Quinton Taylor out of the mayoralty. I don't think it was a +bit fair. And," she continued, "there are other things. They have found +out that Carrington is behind a scheme to steal the water rights from +the town--something he did to the board of directors of the irrigation +company, I believe. And he has had his councilmen pass laws to widen +some streets and open new ones. And the well-informed call it a steal, +too. Mr. Norton has stirred up a lot of sentiment against Carrington and +Danforth, and all the rest of them. Secretly, that is. And there is that +murder charge against Quinton Taylor," went on the woman. "That is +preposterous! Taylor was the best friend Larry Harlan ever had!" + +But the girl turned her head, and her lips quivered, for the mention of +Taylor had brought back to her the poignant sense of loss that she had +felt when she had learned of the charge against Taylor. She bowed her +head and wept silently, the woman trying again to comfort her, while +outside the noise and tumult grew in volume--threatening violence. + +By the time Marion Harlan had dropped into the chair in the room of the +house into which the woman had taken her, the crowd that had collected +in the street was packed and jammed against the buildings on each side +of it. + +Those who had come late demanded to be told what had happened; and some +men lifted Parsons to the back of his horse, and with their hands on his +legs, bracing him, Parsons repeated the story of what had occurred. +More--yielding to the frenzy that had now taken possession of his +senses, he told of Carrington's plotting against the town; of the man's +determination to loot and steal everything he could get his hands on. He +told them of his own culpability; he assured them he had been as guilty +as Carrington and Danforth--who was a mere tool, though as unscrupulous +as Carrington. He gave them an account of Carrington's stewardship of +his own money; and he related the story of Carrington's friendship with +the governor, connecting Carrington's trip to the capital with the +stealing of the election from Taylor. + +It is the psychology of the mob that it responds in some measure to the +frenzy of the man who agitates it. So it was with the great crowd that +now swarmed the wide street of Dawes. Partisan feeling--all differences +of opinion that in other times would have barred concerted action--was +swept away by the fervent appeal Parsons made, and by his complete and +scathing revelation of the iniquitous scheme to rob the town. + +A great sigh arose as Parsons finished and was drawn down, his hat off, +his hair ruffled, his eyes gleaming with the strength of the terrible +frenzy he was laboring under. The crowd muttered; voices rose sharply; +there was an impatient movement; a concerted stiffening of bodies and a +long pause, as of preparation. + +Aroused, seething with passion, with a vindictive desire for action, +swift and ruthless, the crowd waited--waited for a leader. And while the +pause and the mutterings continued, the leader came. + +It was the big, grim-faced Bothwell, at the head of the Arrow outfit. +With his horse in a dead run, the other horses of the outfit crowding +him close, Bothwell brought his horse to a sliding halt at the edge of +the crowd. + +Bothwell's eyes were ablaze with the light of battle; and he stood in +his stirrups, looming high above the heads of the men around him, and +shouted: + +"Where's my boss--Squint Taylor?" And before anyone could +answer--"Where's that damned coyote Carrington? Where's Danforth? What's +wrong here?" + +It was Parsons who answered him. Parsons, again clambering into the +saddle from which he had spoken, now shrieking shrilly: + +"It's Carrington's work! He abducted Marion Harlan, my niece. He's a +scoundrel and a thief, and he is trying to ruin this town!" + +There was a short silence as Parsons slid again to the ground, and then +the man growled profanely: + +"Let's run the whole bunch out of town! Start somethin', Bothwell!" + +Bothwell laughed, a booming bellow of grim mirth that stirred the crowd +to movement. "We've been startin' somethin'! This outfit is out for a +clean-up! There's been too much sneakin' an' murderin'; an' too many +fake warrants flyin' around, with a bunch like them Keats guys sent out +to kill innocent men. Damn their hides! Let's get 'em--all of 'em!" + +He flung his horse around and leaped it between the other horses of the +Arrow outfit, sending it straight to the doors of the city hall. Closing +in behind him, the other members of the Arrow outfit followed; and +behind them the crowd, now able to center its passion upon something +definite, rushed forward--a yelling, muttering, turbulent mass of men +intent to destroy the things which the common conscience loathes. + +It seemed a lashing sea of retribution to Danforth and Judge +Littlefield, who were in the mayor's office, a little group of their +political adherents around them. At the first sign of a disturbance, +Danforth had attempted to gather his official forces with the intention +of preserving order. But only these few had responded, and they, +white-faced, feeling their utter impotence, were standing in the room, +terror-stricken, when Bothwell and the men of the Arrow outfit, with the +crowd yelling behind them, entered the door of the office. + + * * * * * + +The little, broken-nosed man had done well to leave the vicinity of the +big house before Taylor arrived there. For when Taylor emerged from the +front room, in which the light still burned, his soul was still in the +grip of a lust to slay. + +He was breathing fast when he emerged from the house, for what he saw +there had puzzled him--the guard lying on the floor and Marion gone--and +he stood for an instant on the porch, scanning the clearing and the +woods around the house with blazing eyes, his guns in hand. + +The silence around the house was deep and solemn now, and over Taylor +stole a conviction that Carrington had sent Marion to Dawes in charge of +some of his men; having divined that he would come for her. But Taylor +did not act upon the conviction instantly. He ran to the stable, stormed +through it--and the other buildings in the cluster around the +ranchhouse; and finding no trace of men or girl, he at last leaped on +Spotted Tail and sent him thundering over the trail toward Dawes. + +When he arrived in town a swaying, shouting, shooting mob jammed the +streets. He brought his horse to a halt on the edge of the crowd that +packed the street in front of the city hall, and demanded to know what +was wrong. + +The man shouted at him: + +"Hell's to pay! Carrington abducted Marion Harlan, an' that little +guy--Parsons--rescued her. An' Parsons made a speech, tellin' folks what +Carrington an' Danforth an' all the rest of the sneakin' coyotes have +done, an' we're runnin' the scum out of town!" And then, before Taylor +could ask about the girl, the man raised his voice to a shrill yell: + +"It's Squint Taylor, boys! Squint Taylor! Stand back an' let ol' Squint +take a hand in this here deal!" + +There was a wild, concerted screech of joy. It rose like the shrieking +of a gale; it broke against the buildings that fringed the street; it +echoed and reechoed with terrific resonance back and forth over the +heads of the men in the crowd. It penetrated into the cozy room of a +private dwelling, where sat a girl who started at the sound and sat +erect, her face paling, her eyes, glowing with a light that made the +motherly looking woman say to her, softly: + +"Ah, then you _do_ believe in him, my dear!" + + * * * * * + +It was when the noise and the tumult had subsided that Taylor went to +her. For he had been told where he might find her by men who smiled +sympathetically at his back as he walked down the street toward the +private dwelling. + +She was at the door as soon as he, for she had been watching from one of +the front windows, and had seen him come toward the house. + +And when the motherly looking woman saw them in each other's arms, the +moon and the light from within the house revealing them to her, and to +the men in the crowd who watched from the street, she smiled gently. +What the two said to each other will never be known, for their words +were drowned in the cheer that rose from hoarse-voiced men who knew that +words are sometimes futile and unnecessary. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV--TRIUMPH AT LAST + + +A month later, Taylor walked to the front door of the Arrow ranchhouse +and stood on the threshold looking out over the great sweep of +green-brown plain that reached eastward to Dawes. + +A change had come over Taylor. His eyes had a gentler light in them--as +though they had seen things that had taken the edge off his sterner +side; and there was an atmosphere about him that created the impression +that his thoughts were at this moment far from violence. + +"Mr. Taylor!" said a voice behind him--from the front room. There had +been an undoubted accent on the "Mr." And the voice was one that Taylor +knew well; the sound of it deepened the gentle gleam in his eyes. + +"Mrs. Taylor," he answered, imparting to the "Mrs." exactly the emphasis +the voice had placed on the other. + +There was a laugh behind him, and then the voice again, slightly +reproachful: "Oh, that sounds so _awfully_ formal, Squint!" + +"Well," he said, "you started it." + +"I like 'Squint' better," said the voice. + +"I'm hoping you keep on liking Squint all the days of your life," he +returned. + +"I was speaking of names," declared the voice. + +"Doan' yo' let her fool yo', Mr. Squint!" came another voice, "fo' she +think a heap mo' of you than she think of yo' name!" + +"Martha!" said the first voice in laughing reproof, "I vow I shall send +you away some day!" + +And then there was a clumping step on the floor, and Martha's voice +reached the door as she went out of the house through the kitchen: + +"I's goin' to the bunkhouse to expostulate wif that lazy Bud Hemmingway. +He tole me this mawnin' he's gwine feed them hawgs--an' he ain't done +it!" + +And then Mrs. Taylor appeared at the door and placed an arm around her +husband's neck, drawing his head over to her and kissing him. + +She looked much like the Marion Harlan who had left the Arrow on a night +about a month before, though there was a more eloquent light in her +eyes, and a tenderness had come over her that made her whole being +radiate. + +"Don't you think you had better get ready to go to Dawes, dear?" she +suggested. + +"I like that better than 'Squint' even," he grinned. + +For a long time they stood in the doorway very close together. And then +Mrs. Taylor looked up with grave eyes at her husband. + +"Won't you please let me look at _all_ of father's note to you, Squint?" +she asked. + +"That can't be done," he grinned at her. "For," he added, "that day +after I let you read part of it I burnt it. It's gone--like a lot of +other things that are not needed now!" + +"But what did it say--that part that you wouldn't let me read?" she +insisted. + +"It said," he quoted, "'I want you to marry her, Squint.' And I have +done so--haven't I?" + +"Was that _all_?" she persisted. + +"I'd call that plenty!" he laughed. + +"Well," she sighed, "I suppose that will have to be sufficient. But get +ready, dear; they will be waiting for you!" She left him and went into a +room, from where she called back to him: "It won't take me long to +dress." And then, after an interval: "Where do you suppose Uncle Elam +went?" + +He scowled out of the doorway; then turned and smiled. "He didn't say. +And he lost no time saying farewell to Dawes, once he got his hands on +the money Carrington left." Taylor's smile became a laugh, low and full +of amusement. + +Shortly Mrs. Taylor appeared, attired in a neat riding-habit, and Taylor +donned coat and hat, and they went arm in arm to the corral gate, where +their horses were standing, having been roped, saddled, and bridled by +the "lazy" Bud Hemmingway, who stood outside the bunkhouse grinning at +them. + +"Well, good luck!" Bud called after them as they rode toward Dawes. + +Lingering much on the way, and stopping at the Mullarky cabin, they +finally reached the edge of town and were met by Neil Norton, who +grinned widely when he greeted them. + +Norton waved a hand at Dawes. As in another time, Dawes was arrayed in +holiday attire, swathed in a riot of color--starry bunting, flags, and +streamers, with hundreds of Japanese lanterns suspended festoonlike +across the streets. And now, as Taylor and the blushing, moist-eyed +woman at his side rode down the street, a band on a platform near the +station burst into music, its brazen-tongued instruments drowning the +sound of cheering. + +"We got that from Lazette," grinned Norton. "We had to have _some_ +noise! As I told you the other day," he went on, speaking loudly, so +that Taylor could hear him above the tumult, "it is all fixed up. Judge +Littlefield stayed on the job here, because he promised to be good. He +hadn't really done anything, you know. And after we made Danforth and +the five councilmen resign that night, and saw them aboard the +east-bound the next morning, we made Littlefield wire the governor about +what had happened. Littlefield went to the capital shortly afterward and +told the governor some things that astonished him. And the governor +appointed you to fill Danforth's unexpired term. But, of course, that +was only an easy way for the governor to surrender. So everything is +lovely." + +Norton paused, out of breath. + +And Taylor smiled at his wife. "Yes," he said, as he took her arm, "this +is a mighty good little old world--if you treat it right." + +"And if you stay faithful," added the moist-eyed woman. + +"And if you fall in love," supplemented Taylor. + +"And when the people of a town want to honor you," added Norton +significantly. + +And then, arm in arm, followed by Norton, Taylor and his wife rode +forward, their horses close together, toward the great crowd of people +that jammed the street around the band-stand, their voices now raised +above the music that blared forth from the brazen instruments. + + + + +EDGAR RICE BURROUGH'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +TARZAN THE UNTAMED + + Tells of Tarzan's return to the life of the ape-man in his search + for vengeance on those who took from him his wife and home. + +JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN + + Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right + to ape kingship. + +A PRINCESS OF MARS + + Forty-three million miles from the earth--a succession of the + weirdest and most astounding adventures in fiction. John Carter, + American, finds himself on the planet Mars, battling for a beautiful + woman, with the Green Men of Mars, terrible creatures fifteen feet + high, mounted on horses like dragons. + +THE GODS OF MARS + + Continuing John Carter's adventures on the Planet Mars, in which he + does battle against the ferocious "plant men," creatures whose + mighty tails swished their victims to instant death, and defies + Issus, the terrible Goddess of Death, whom all Mars worships and + reveres. + +THE WARLORD OF MARS + + Old acquaintances, made in the two other stories, reappear, Tars + Tarkas, Tardos Mors and others. There is a happy ending to the story + in the union of the Warlord, the title conferred upon John Carter, + with Dejah Thoris. + +THUVIA, MAID OF MARS + + The fourth volume of the series. The story centers around the + adventures of Carthoris, the son of John Carter and Thuvia, daughter + of a Martian Emperor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK. + + + + +ZANE GREY'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + THE MAN OF THE FOREST + THE DESERT OF WHEAT + THE U. P. TRAIL + WILDFIRE + THE BORDER LEGION + THE RAINBOW TRAIL + THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT + RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE + THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS + THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN + THE LONE STAR RANGER + DESERT GOLD + BETTY ZANE + +LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS + + The life story of "Buffalo Bill" by his sister Helen Cody Wetmore, + with Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey. + +ZANE GREY'S BOOKS FOR BOYS + + KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE + THE YOUNG LION HUNTER + THE YOUNG FORESTER + THE YOUNG PITCHER + THE SHORT STOP + THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER BASEBALL STORIES + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S STORIES OF ADVENTURE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE RIVER'S END + + A story of the Royal Mounted Police. + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + + Thrilling adventures in the Far Northland. + +NOMADS OF THE NORTH + + The story of a bear-cub and a dog. + +KAZAN + + The tale of a "quarter-strain wolf and three-quarters husky" torn + between the call of the human and his wild mate. + +BAREE, SON OF KAZAN + + The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part he + played in the lives of a man and a woman. + +THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM + + The story of the King of Beaver Island, a Mormon colony, and his + battle with Captain Plum. + +THE DANGER TRAIL + + A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a mystery of the North. + +THE HUNTED WOMAN + + A tale of a great fight in the "valley of gold" for a woman. + +THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH + + The story of Fort o' God, where the wild flavor of the wilderness is + blended with the courtly atmosphere of France. + +THE GRIZZLY KING + + The story of Thor, the big grizzly. + +ISOBEL + + A love story of the Far North. + +THE WOLF HUNTERS + + A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness. + +THE GOLD HUNTERS + + The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds. + +THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE + + Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women. + +BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY + + A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made + from this book. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +FLORENCE L. BARCLAY'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE WHITE LADIES OF WORCESTER + + A novel of the 12th Century. The heroine, believing she had lost her + lover, enters a convent. He returns, and interesting developments + follow. + +THE UPAS TREE + + A love story of rare charm. It deals with a successful author and + his wife. + +THROUGH THE POSTERN GATE + + The story of a seven day courtship, in which the discrepancy in ages + vanished into insignificance before the convincing demonstration of + abiding love. + +THE ROSARY + + The story of a young artist who is reputed to love beauty above all + else in the world, but who, when blinded through an accident, gains + life's greatest happiness. A rare story of the great passion of two + real people superbly capable of love, its sacrifices and its + exceeding reward. + +THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE + + The lovely young Lady Ingleby, recently widowed by the death of a + husband who never understood her, meets a fine, clean young chap who + is ignorant of her title and they fall deeply in love with each + other. When he learns her real identity a situation of singular + power is developed. + +THE BROKEN HALO + + The story of a young man whose religious belief was shattered in + childhood and restored to him by the little white lady, many years + older than himself, to whom he is passionately devoted. + +THE FOLLOWING OF THE STAR + + The story of a young missionary, who, about to start for Africa, + marries wealthy Diana Rivers, in order to help her fulfill the + conditions of her uncle's will, and how they finally come to love + each other and are reunited after experiences that soften and + purify. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +ETHEL M. DELL'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE LAMP IN THE DESERT + + The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and tells of the + lamp of love that continues to shine through all sorts of + tribulations to final happiness. + +GREATHEART + + The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals a noble soul. + +THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE + + A hero who worked to win even when there was only "a hundredth + chance." + +THE SWINDLER + + The story of a "bad man's" soul revealed by a woman's faith. + +THE TIDAL WAVE + + Tales of love and of women who learned to know the true from the + false. + +THE SAFETY CURTAIN + + A very vivid love story of India. The volume also contains four + other long stories of equal interest. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +"STORM COUNTRY" BOOKS BY GRACE MILLER WHITE + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +JUDY OF ROGUES' HARBOR + + Judy's untutored ideas of God, her love of wild things, her faith in + life are quite as inspiring as those of Tess. Her faith and + sincerity catch at your heart strings. This book has all of the + mystery and tense action of the other Storm Country books. + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY + + It was as Tess, beautiful, wild, impetuous, that Mary Pickford made + her reputation as a motion picture actress. How love acts upon a + temperament such as hers--a temperament that makes a woman an angel + or an outcast, according to the character of the man she loves--is + the theme of the story. + +THE SECRET OF THE STORM COUNTRY + + The sequel to "Tess of the Storm Country," with the same wild + background, with its half-gypsy life of the squatters--tempestuous, + passionate, brooding. Tess learns the "secret" of her birth and + finds happiness and love through her boundless faith in life. + +FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING + + A haunting story with its scene laid near the country familiar to + readers of "Tess of the Storm Country." + +ROSE O' PARADISE + + "Jinny" Singleton, wild, lovely, lonely, but with a passionate + yearning for music, grows up in the house of Lafe Grandoken, a + crippled cobbler of the Storm Country. Her romance is full of power + and glory and tenderness. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown. + + No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal + young people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and + reminiscent of the time when the reader was Seventeen. + +PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant. + + This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous, + tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a + finished, exquisite work. + +PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm. + + Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable + phases of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile + prankishness that have ever been written. + +THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers. + + Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against + his father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The + love of a fine girl turns Bibbs' life from failure to success. + +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece. + + A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a + country editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in + the love interest. + +THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. + + The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's + engagement, drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, + leads another to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid + and unpromising suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her + sister. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York + + + + +KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES + +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + +SISTERS. Frontispiece by Frank Street. + + The California Redwoods furnish the background for this beautiful + story of sisterly devotion and sacrifice. + +POOR, DEAR, MARGARET KIRBY. + + Frontispiece by George Gibbs. + + A collection of delightful stories, including "Bridging the Years" + and "The Tide-Marsh." This story is now shown in moving pictures. + +JOSSELYN'S WIFE. Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. + + The story of a beautiful woman who fought a bitter fight for + happiness and love. + +MARTIE, THE UNCONQUERED. + + Illustrated by Charles E. Chambers. + + The triumph of a dauntless spirit over adverse conditions. + +THE HEART OF RACHAEL. + + Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers. + + An interesting story of divorce and the problems that come with a + second marriage. + +THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE. + + Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. + + A sympathetic portrayal of the quest of a normal girl, obscure and + lonely, for the happiness of life. + +SATURDAY'S CHILD. Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes. + + Can a girl, born in rather sordid conditions, lift herself through + sheer determination to the better things for which her soul + hungered? + +MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + + A story of the big mother heart that beats in the background of + every girl's life, and some dreams which came true. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. 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