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diff --git a/41534.txt b/41534.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 32192c2..0000000 --- a/41534.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7674 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Langford of the Three Bars, by -Kate Boyles and Virgil D. Boyles - -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: Langford of the Three Bars - -Author: Kate Boyles - Virgil D. Boyles - -Illustrator: N. C. Wyeth - -Release Date: December 1, 2012 [EBook #41534] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LANGFORD OF THE THREE BARS *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: "I Take it I am the One Wanted," Said Williston.] - - - - -LANGFORD OF THE THREE BARS - -By KATE AND VIRGIL D. BOYLES - -With Frontispiece in Color - -By N. C. WYETH - -A. L. BURT COMPANY - -PUBLISHERS--NEW YORK - - - - -Copyright - -A. C. McClurg & Co. - -1907 - -Published April 15, 1907 - -Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England - -All rights reserved - -Including dramatic rights - - - - -TO OUR MOTHER - -MRS. MARTHA DILLIN BOYLES - - - - -CONTENTS - CHAPTER I--THE ISLAND WITH A MYSTERY - CHAPTER II--"ON THE TRAIL" - CHAPTER III--LOUISE - CHAPTER IV--"MAGGOT" - CHAPTER V--AT THE BON AMI - CHAPTER VI--"NOTHIN' BUT A HOSS THIEF, ANYWAY" - CHAPTER VII--THE PRELIMINARY - CHAPTER VIII--THE COUNTY ATTORNEY - CHAPTER IX--THE ATTACK ON THE LAZY S - CHAPTER X--IN WHICH THE X Y Z FIGURES SOMEWHAT MYSTERIOUSLY - CHAPTER XI--"YOU ARE--THE BOSS" - CHAPTER XII--WAITING - CHAPTER XIII--MRS. HIGGINS RALLIES TO HER COLORS - CHAPTER XIV--CHANNEL ICE - CHAPTER XV--THE GAME IS ON - CHAPTER XVI--THE TRIAL - CHAPTER XVII--GORDON RIDES INTO THE COUNTRY - CHAPTER XVIII--FIRE! - CHAPTER XIX--AN UNCONVENTIONAL TEA PARTY - CHAPTER XX--THE ESCAPE - CHAPTER XXI--THE MOVING SHADOW - CHAPTER XXII--THE OUTLAW'S LAST STAND - CHAPTER XXIII--THE PARTY AT THE LAZY S - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE ISLAND WITH A MYSTERY - - -He said positively to Battle Ax, his scraggy buckskin cow pony, that -they would ride to the summit of this one bluff, and that it should be -the last. But he had said the same thing many times since striking the -barren hill region flanking both sides of the river. Hump after hump had -been surmounted since the sound of the first promise had tickled the -ears of the tired bronco, humps as alike as the two humps of a Bactrian -camel, the monotonous continuity of which might very well have confused -the mind of one less at home on these ranges than George Williston. Even -he, riding a blind trail since sun-up, sitting his saddle with a heavy -indifference born of heat and fatigue, began to think it might be that -they were describing a circle and the sun was playing them strange -tricks. Still, he urged his pony to one more effort; just so much -farther and they would retrace their steps, giving up for this day at -least the locating of a small bunch of cattle, branded a lazy S, missing -these three days. - -Had not untoward circumstances intervened, he might still have gone -blindly on; for, laying aside the gambling fever that was on him, he -could ill afford to lose the ten or twelve steers somewhere wandering -the wide range or huddled into some safe place, there to abide the time -when a daring rustler might conveniently play at witchcraft with the -brand or otherwise dispose of them with profit to himself and with -credit to his craft. Moreover, what might possibly never have been -missed from the vast herds of Langford, his neighbor of the plains -country, was of most serious import to Williston for an even weightier -reason than the actual present loss. - -The existence of the small and independent ranchman was becoming -precarious. He was being hounded by two prolific sources of trouble, -these sources having a power and insolent strength contemptuously -indifferent to any claim set up in their paths by one weaker than -themselves. On the one hand was the wealthy cattle owner, whose -ever-increasing wealth and consequent power was a growing menace to the -interests of the small owner whose very bread and butter depended upon -his ability to buy and sell to advantage. But with bigger interests -slowly but surely gaining control of the markets, who might foretell the -future? None beheld the ominous signs more apprehensively than did -Williston, who for more than two years, striving desperately to make -good mistakes and misfortunes made back in Iowa, had felt the pinching -grow more and more acute. On the other hand was the vicious combination -of the boldness, cunning, and greed of the cattle rustlers who harassed -all the range country of the Dakotas and Nebraska. Annihilation was the -sword of Damocles held over the head of the small ranchman. A hand -lifted to avert impending doom would have set the air in vibration and -the sword would have fallen. Nemesis was as sure to follow at the hands -of the fellowship of rustlers as ever it was at the hands of the Secret -Tribunal of old. - -Williston was chafing under his helplessness as the jaded pony climbed -doggedly this last bluff. To the right of his path a hawk was fluttering -frantically just above the reach of a basilisk-eyed rattlesnake, whose -baneful charm the ill-advised bird was not able to resist. - -"Devil take you, Battle Ax, but you're slow," muttered Williston, -utterly indifferent to the outcome of this battle royal. "I'd give a -good deal to sit down this minute to some of my little girl's flapjacks -and coffee. But nothing for us, lazy-bones, till midnight--or morning, -more likely. Do walk up as if you had some little standing in the world -of cow ponies. You haven't, of a surety, but you might make an effort. -All things are possible to him who tries, you know, which is a -tremendous lie, of course. But perhaps it doesn't apply to poor devils -like us who are 'has beens.' Here we are. Ah!" - -There were no more hills. Almost directly at his feet was one of those -precipitous cut-aways that characterize the border bluffs of the -Missouri River. A few more steps, in the dark, and horse and rider would -have plunged over a sheer wall of nearly two hundred feet. As it was, -Williston gave a gasp of involuntary horror which almost simultaneously -gave place to one of wonder and astonishment. He had struck the river at -a point absolutely new to him. It was the time of low water, and the -river, in most of its phases muddy and sullen-looking, gleamed silver -and gold with the glitter of the setting sun, making a royal highway to -the dwelling-place of Phoebus. A little to the north of this sparkling -highroad lay what would have been an island in high water, thickly -wooded with willows and cottonwoods. Now a long stretch of sand reached -between bluff and island. - -Dismounting, with the quick thought that yonder island might hold the -secret of his lost cattle, he crept as close to the edge as he dared. -The cut was sheer and tawny, entirely devoid of shrubbery by means of -which one might hazard a descent. The sand bed began immediately at the -foot of the yellow wall. Even though one managed to gain the bottom, one -would hardly dare risk the deceitful sands, ever shifting, fair and -treacherous. Baffled, he was on the point of remounting to retrace his -steps when he dropped his foot from the stirrup amazed. Was the day of -miracles not yet passed? - -It was the sun, of course. Twelve hours of sun in the eyes could play -strange tricks and might even cause a dancing black speck to assume the -semblance of a man on horseback, picking his way easily, though mayhap a -bit warily, across the waste of sand. He seemed to have sprung from the -very bowels of the bluff. Whence else? Many a rod beyond and above the -ghostly figure frowned the tawny, wicked cut-away. Path for neither -horse nor man appeared so far as eye could reach. It must be the sun. -But it was not the sun. - -Motionless, intent, a figure cast in bronze as the sun went down, the -lean ranchman gazed steadfastly down upon the miniature man and horse -creeping along so far below. Not until the object of his fixed gaze had -been swallowed by the trees and underbrush did his muscles relax. This -man had ridden as if unafraid. - -"What man has done, man can do," ran swiftly through Williston's brain, -and with no idea of abandoning his search until he had probed the -mystery, he mounted and rode northward, closely examining the edge of -the precipice as he went along for any evidence of a possible descent. -Presently he came upon a cross ravine, devoid of shrubbery, too steep -for a horse, but presenting possibilities for a man. With unerring -instinct he followed the cross-cut westward. Soon a scattering of scrub -oaks began to appear, and sumach already streaked with crimson. A little -farther and the trees began to show spiral wreaths of woodbine and wild -grape. Yet a little farther, and doubtless there would be outlet for -horse as well as man. - -But Williston was growing impatient. Besides, the thought came to him -that he had best not risk his buckskin to the unknown dangers of an -untried trail. What if he should go lame? Accordingly he was left behind -in a slight depression where he would be pretty well hidden, and -Williston scrambled down the steep incline alone. When foothold or -handhold was lacking, he simply let himself go and slid, grasping the -first root or branch that presented itself in his dare-devil course. - -Arrived at the bottom, he found his clothes torn and his hands bleeding; -but that was nothing. With grim determination he made his way through -the ravine and struck across the sand trail with a sure realization of -his danger, but without the least abatement of his resolution. The sand -was firm under his feet. The water had receded a sufficient length of -time before to make the thought of quicksands an idle fear. No puff of -cloudy smoke leaped from a rifle barrel. If, as he more than half -suspected, the island was a rendezvous for cattle thieves, a place -surely admirably fitted by nature for such unlawful operations, the -rustlers were either overconfident of the inaccessibility of their -retreat and kept no lookout, or they were insolently indifferent to -exposure. The former premise was the more likely. A light breeze, born -of the afterglow, came scurrying down the river bed. Here and there, -where the sand was finest and driest, it rose in little whirlwinds. No -sound broke the stillness of the summer evening. - -What was that? Coyotes barking over yonder across the river? That alien -sound! A man's laugh, a curse, a heart-breaking bellow of pain. -Williston parted ever so slightly the thick foliage of underbrush that -separated him from the all too familiar sounds and peered within. - -In the midst of a small clearing,--man-made, for several stumps were -scattered here and there,--two men were engaged in unroping and releasing -a red steer, similar in all essential respects to a bunch of three or -four huddled together a little to one side. They were all choice, -well-fed animals, but there were thousands of just such beasts herding -on the free ranges. He owned red steers like those, but was there a man -in the cattle country who did not? They were impossible of -identification without the aid of their brand, and it happened that they -were so bunched as to completely baffle Williston in his eager efforts -to decipher the stamp that would disclose their ownership. That they -were the illegitimate prey of cattle rustlers, he never for one moment -doubted. The situation was conclusive. A bed of glowing embers -constantly replenished and kept at white heat served to lighten up the -weird scene growing dusky under the surrounding cottonwoods. - -Williston thought he recognized in one of the men--the one who seemed to -be directing the procedure of this little affair, whose wide and dirty -hat-rim was so tantalizingly drawn over his eyes--the solitary rider -whose unexpected appearance had so startled him a short time before. -Both he and his companion were dressed after the rough, nondescript -manner of cattle men, both were gay, laughing and talkative, and -seemingly as oblivious to possible danger as if engaged in the most -innocent and legitimate business. - -A little to the left and standing alone was an odd creature of most -striking appearance--a large, spotted steer with long, peculiar-looking -horns. It were quite impossible to mistake such a possession if it had -once been yours. Its right side was turned full toward Williston and in -the centre of the hip stood out distinctly the cleanly cauterized three -perpendicular lines that were the identifying mark of the Three Bars -ranch, one of those same big, opulent, self-centred outfits whose -astonishingly multiplying sign was becoming such a veritable and -prophetic writing on the wall for Williston and his kind. - -Who then had dared to drive before him an animal so branded? The -boldness of the transgression and the insolent indifference to the -enormity of attendant consequences held him for the moment breathless. -His attention was once more called to the movements of the men. The -steer with which they had been working was led away still moaning with -surprise and pain, and another brought forward from the reserve bunch. -The branded hip, if there was a brand, was turned away from Williston. -The bewildered animal was cleverly roped and thrown to the ground. The -man who was plainly directing the affair, he of the drooping hat and -lazy shoulders, stepped to the fire. Williston held his breath with the -intensity of his interest. The man stooped and took an iron from the -fire. It was the end-gate rod of a wagon and it was red-hot. In the act -of straightening himself from his stooping position, the glowing iron -stick in his right hand, he flung from his head with an easy swing the -flopping hat that interfered with the nicety of sight requisite in the -work he was about to do, and faced squarely that quiet, innocent-looking -spot which held the watching man in its brush; and in the moment in -which Williston drew hastily back, the fear of discovery beating a -tattoo of cold chills down his spine, recognition of the man came to him -in a clarifying burst of comprehension. - -But the man evidently saw nothing and suspected nothing. His casual -glance was probably only a manifestation of his habitual attitude of -being never off his guard. He approached the prostrate steer with -indifference to any meaning that might be attached to the soft snapping -of twigs caused by Williston's involuntary drawing back into the denser -shadows. - -"Y' don't suppose now, do you, that any blamed, interferin' off'cer is -a-loafin' round where he oughtn't to be?" said the second man with a -laugh. - -Williston, much relieved, again peered cautiously through the brush. He -was confident a brand was about to be worked over. He must see--what -there was to see. - -"Easy now, boss," said the second man with an officious warning. He was -a big, beefy fellow with a heavy, hardened face. Williston sounded the -depths of his memory but failed to place him among his acquaintances in -the cow country. - -"Gamble on me," returned the leader with ready good-nature, "I'll make -it as clean as a boiled shirt. I take it you don't know my reputation, -pard. Well, you'll learn. You're all right, only a trifle green, that's -all." - -With a firm, quick hand, he began running the searing iron over the -right hip of the animal. When he had finished and the steer, released, -staggered to its feet, Williston saw the brand clearly. It was J R. If -it had been worked over another brand, it certainly was a clean job. He -could see no indications of any old markings whatsoever. - -"Too clean to be worked over a lazy S," thought Williston, "but not over -three bars." - -"There were six reds," said the chief, surveying the remaining bunch -with a critical eye. "One must have wandered off while I was gone. Get -out there in the brush and round him up, Alec, while I tackle this -long-horned gentleman." - -Williston turned noiselessly away from the scene which so suddenly -threatened danger. Both men were fully armed and would brook no -eavesdropping. Once more he crossed the sand in safety and found his -horse where he had left him, up the ravine. He vaulted into the saddle -and galloped away into the quiet night. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -"ON THE TRAIL" - - -Williston himself came to the door. His thin, scholarly face looked -drawn and worn in the mid-day glare. A tiredness in the eyes told -graphically of a sleepless night. - -"I'm glad to see you, Langford," he said. "It was good of you to come. -Leave your horse for Mary. She'll give her water when she's cooled off a -bit." - -"You sent for me, Williston?" asked the young man, rubbing his face -affectionately against the wet neck of his mare. - -"I did. It was good of you to come so soon." - -"Fortunately, your messenger found me at home. As for the rest, Sade, -here, hasn't her beat in the cow country, if she is only a cow pony, eh, -Sade?" - -At that moment, Mary Williston came into the open doorway of the rude -claim shanty set down in the very heart of the sun-seared plain which -stretched away into heart-choking distances from every possible point of -the compass. And sweet she was to look upon, though tanned and glowing -from close association with the ardent sun and riotous wind. Her auburn -hair, more reddish on the edges from sunburn, was fine and soft and -there was much of it. It seemed newly brushed and suspiciously glossy. -One sees far on the plains, and two years out of civilization are not -enough to make a girl forget the use of a mirror, even if it be but a -broken sliver, propped up on a pine-board dressing table. She looked -strangely grown-up despite her short, rough skirt and badly scuffed -leather riding-leggings. Langford stared at her with a startled look of -mingled admiration and astonishment. She came forward and put her hand -on the mare's bridle. She was not embarrassed in the least. But color -came into the stranger's face. He swept his wide hat from his head -quickly. - -"No indeed, Miss Williston; I'll water Sade myself." - -"Please let me. I'd love to." - -"She's used to it, Langford," said Williston in his quiet, gentlemanly -voice, the well-bred cadence of which spoke of a training far removed -from the harassments and harshnesses of life in this plains country. -"You see, she is the only boy I have. She must of necessity be my chore -boy as well as my herd boy. In her leisure moments she holds down her -kitchen claim; I don't know how she does it, but she does. You had -better let her do it; she will hold it against you if you don't." - -"But I couldn't have a woman doing my grooming for me. Why, the very -idea!" - -He sprang into the saddle. - -"But you waited for me to do it," said the girl, looking up at him -curiously. - -"Did I? I didn't mean to. Yes, I did, too. But I beg your pardon. You -see--say, look here; are you the 'little girl' who left word for me this -morning?" - -"Yes. Why not?" - -"Well, you see," smiling, but apologetic, "one of the boys said that -Williston's little girl had ridden over and said her father wanted to -see me as soon as I could come. So, you see, I thought--" - -"Dad always calls me that, so most of the people around here do, too. It -is very silly." - -"I don't think so at all. I only wonder why I have not known about you -before," with a frank smile. "It must be because I've been away so much -of the time lately. Why didn't you wait for me?" he asked suddenly. "Ten -miles is a sort of a lonesome run--for a girl." - -"I did wait a while," said Mary, honestly, "but you didn't seem in any -hurry. I expect you didn't care to be bored that long way with the silly -chatter of a 'little girl.'" - -"Well," said Langford, ruefully, "I'm afraid I did feel a little -relieved when I found you had not waited. I never will again. I do beg -your pardon," he called, laughingly, over his shoulder as he galloped -away to the spring. - -When he returned there was no one to receive him but Williston. Together -they entered the house. It was a small room into which Langford was -ushered. It was also very plain. It was more than that, it was shabby. -An easy-chair or two that had survived the wreckage of the house of -Williston had been shipped to this "land of promise," together with a -few other articles such as were absolutely indispensable. The table was -a big shipping box, though Langford did not notice that, for it was -neatly covered with a moth-eaten, plum-colored felt cloth. A rug, -crocheted out of particolored rags, a relic of Mary's conservative and -thrifty grandmother, served as a carpet for the living-room. A peep -through the open door into the next and only other room disclosed -glimpses of matting on the floor. There was a holy place even in this -castaway house on the prairie. As the young man's careless eyes took in -this new significance, the door closed softly. The "little girl" had -shut herself in. - -The two men sat down at the table. It was hot. They were perspiring -freely. The flies, swarming through the screenless doorway, stung -disagreeably. - -Laconically Williston told his story. He wasted no words in the telling. -In the presence of the man whose big success made his own pitiful -failures incongruous, his sensitive scholar's nature had shut up like a -clam. - -Langford's jaw was set. His young face was tense with interest. He had -thrown his hat on the floor as he came in, as is the way with men who -have lived much without women. He had a strong, bronzed face, with -dare-devil eyes, blue they were, too, and he had a certain turn of the -head, a mark of distinction which success always gives to her sons. He -had big shoulders, clad in a blue flannel shirt open at the throat. In -his absorption he had forgotten the "little girl" as completely as if -she had, in very truth, been the ten-year-old of his imagination. How -plainly he could see all the unholy situation,--the handful of desperate -men perfectly protected on the little island. One man sighting from -behind a cottonwood could play havoc with a whole sheriff's posse on -that open stretch of sand-bar. Nothing but a surprise--and did these -insolent men fear surprise? They had laughed at the suggestion of the -near presence of an officer of the law. And did they not do well to -laugh? Surely it was a joke, a good one, this idea of an officer's being -where he was needed in Kemah County. - -"And my brand was on that spotted steer," he interrupted. "I know the -creature--know him well. He has a mean eye. Had the gall to dispute the -right of way with me once, not so long ago, either. He was in the corral -at the time, but he's been on the range all Summer. He may have the evil -eye all right, but he's mine, bad eye and all; and what is mine, I will -have. And is that the only original brand you saw?" - -"The only one," quietly, "unless the J R on that red steer when he got -up was an original one." - -"J R? Who could J R be?" - -"I couldn't say, but the man was--Jesse Black." - -"Jesse Black!" - -The repeated words were fairly spit out. - -"Jesse Black! I might have known. Who else bold enough to loot the Three -Bars? But his day has come. Not a hair, nor a hide, not a hoof, not -tallow enough to fry a flapjack shall be left on the Three Bars before -he repents his insolence." - -"What will you do?" asked Williston. - -"What will you do?" retorted Langford. - -"I? What can I do?" in the vague, helpless tone of the dreamer. - -"Everything--if you will," briefly. - -He snatched up his wide hat. - -"Where are you going?" asked Williston, curiously. - -"To see Dick Gordon before this day is an hour older. Will you come -along?" - -"Ye--es," hesitatingly. "Gordon hasn't made much success of things so -far, has he?" - -"Because you--and men like you--are under the thumb of men like Jesse -Black," said Langford, curtly. "Afraid to peach for fear of antagonizing -the gang. Afraid to vote against the tools of the cattle thieves for -fear of antagonizing the gang. Afraid to call your souls your own for -fear of antagonizing the gang. Your 'on the fence' policy didn't work -very well this time, did it? You haven't found your cattle, have you? -The angel must have forgotten. Thought you were tainted of Egypt, eh?" - -"It is easy for you to talk," said Williston, simply. "It would be -different if your bread and butter and your little girl's as well -depended on a scrawny little bunch like mine." - -"Maybe," said Langford, shrugging his shoulders. "Doesn't seem to have -exempted you, though, does it? But Black is no respecter of persons, you -know. However, the time has come for Dick Gordon to show of what stuff -he is made. It was for this that I worked for his election, though I -confess I little thought at the time that proofs for him would be -furnished from my own herds. Present conditions humiliate me utterly. Am -I a weakling that they should exist? Are we all weaklings?" - -A faint, appreciative smile passed over Williston's face. No, Langford -did not look a weakling, neither had the professed humiliation lowered -his proud head. Here was a man--a godlike type, with his sunny hair and -his great strength. This was the man who had thrown not only the whole -weight of his personal influence, which was much, but his whole-hearted -and aggressive service as well, into the long and bitter campaign for -county sovereignty, and had thus turned the scale in favor of the -scarcely hoped-for victory over the puppet of the cattle rustlers. -Williston knew his great object had been to rid the county of its -brigands. True it was that this big, ruddy, self-confident ranchman was -no weakling. - -Langford strode to the door. Then he turned quickly. - -"Look here, Williston, I shall make you angry, I suppose, but it has to -go in the cattle country, and you little fellows haven't shown up very -white in these deals; you know that yourself." - -"Well?" - -"Are you going to stand pat with us?" - -"If you mean, am I going to tell what I know when called upon," answered -Williston, with a simple dignity that made Langford color with sudden -shame, "I am. There are many of us 'little fellows' who would have been -glad to stand up against the rustling outrage long ago had we received -any backing. The moral support of men of your class has not been what -you might call a sort of 'on the spot' support, now, has it?" relapsing -into a gentle sarcasm. "At least, until you came to the front," he -qualified. - -"You will not be the loser, and there's my hand on it," said Langford, -frankly and earnestly, ignoring the latter part of the speech. "The -Three Bars never forgets a friend. They may do you before we are through -with them, Williston, but remember, the Three Bars never forgets." - -Braggadocio? Maybe. But there was strength back of it, there was -determination back of it, and there was an abiding faith in the power of -the Three Bars to make things happen, and a big wrath destined to sleep -not nor slumber till some things had happened in the cattle country. - -Mary Williston, from her window, as is the way with a maid, watched the -two horsemen for many a mile as they galloped away. She followed them -with her eyes while they slowly became faint, moving specks in the level -distance and until they were altogether blotted out, and there was no -sign of living thing on the plain that stretched between. But Paul -Langford, as is the way with a man, forgot that he had seen a beautiful -girl and had thrilled to her glance. He looked back not once as he urged -his trusty little mare on to see Dick Gordon. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -LOUISE - - -It was raining when she left Wind City, but the rain had soon been -distanced. Perhaps the Judge was right when he said it never rained -north or west of Wind City. But the Judge had not wanted her to go. -Neither had the Judge's wife. - -Full twenty minutes, only day before yesterday, the Judge had delayed -his day's outing at the mill where the Jim River doubles right around on -its tracks, in order to make it perfectly clear to her that it was -absolutely outside of the bounds of her duty, that it was altogether an -affair on the side, that she could not be expected to go, and that the -prosecuting attorney up there had merely asked her out of courtesy, in -deference to her position. Of course he would be glad enough to get her, -but let him get some one nearer home, or do without. It wasn't at all -necessary for the court reporter to hold herself in readiness to answer -the call of anything outside her prescribed circuit duties. To be sure -she would earn a trifle, but it was a hard trip, a hard country, and she -had much better postpone her initial journey into the unknown until the -regular term of court, when he could be with her. He had then thrown his -minnow seine over his shoulders, taken his minnow pail in one hand and -his reel case and lunch box in the other, and walked out to the road -wagon awaiting him at the gate, and so off to his frolic, leaving her to -fight it out for herself. - -The Judge's wife had not been so diplomatic, not by any means. She had -dwelt long and earnestly, and no doubt to a large extent truly, on the -uncivilized condition of their neighbors up the line; the roughness of -accommodation, the boldness and license of the cowboys, the daring and -insolence of the cattle thieves, the cunning and dishonesty of the -Indians, and the uncouthness and viciousness of the half-breeds. She had -ended by declaring eloquently that Louise would die of lonesomeness if, -by God's good providence, she escaped a worse fate at the hands of one -or all of the many evils she had enumerated. Yes, it was very evident -Aunt Helen had not wanted her to go. But Aunt Helen's real reason had -been that she held it so dizzily unconventional for her niece to go out -to that wild and unholy land alone. She did not actually fear for her -niece's personal safety, and Louise more than half suspected the truth. - -She had heard all the arguments before. They had little or no terrors -for her now. They were the arguments used by the people back in her -eastern home, those dear, dear people, her people--how far away she -was!--when they had schemed and plotted so pathetically to keep her with -them, the second one to break away from the slow, safe, and calm -traditions of her kin in the place where generation after generation of -her people had lived and died, and now lay waiting the Great Judgment in -the peaceful country burying-ground. - -She had listened to them dutifully, half-believingly, swallowed hard and -followed her uncle, her father's youngest brother, to the "Land of the -Dakotahs," the fair land of promise, right in the face of her fears and -the loneliness that loomed before her--a thing with smirks and horns and -devil's eyes that would not be suppressed, but perched itself insolently -before her, a heart-choking presence, magnified by the mist in her eyes, -through all the long, long journey to the west country. It had left her -for a while when she had crossed the Sioux and was on Dakota soil at -last. It was such a glorious land through which she was passing, the -fair region of the corn-belt, and such a prosperous land, and the fields -spread so broadly. It had been a sunny day with clear skies, one of -those days when distances are so infinite in South Dakota, the land of -widespread spaces. It was indeed a fertile valley through which she was -passing. There is none better on earth. - -When her train had pulled out of Yankton, she reflected with a -whimsical smile that she had not yet seen an Indian. To be sure, she -had not really expected to see one in feathers and war-paint, but -surely an Indian of some description--did not the traditions of her -youth run that Dakota was the land of Indians and blizzards? She well -remembered--indeed, could she ever forget?--when, a tot of seven or eight, -she had run out into the road to gaze after the carry-all that was -taking her well-beloved young uncle away, away, into that dreadful land -where blood ran like rivers and where people trimmed their clothes with -scalps. She even remembered the feel of the warm, yellow dust up to her -bare ankles and the dreadful lump that she couldn't swallow when her -uncle leaned out and waved his hat vigorously, crying out gayly:-- - -"Good-bye, little girl, good-bye. If they take my scalp, I'll beg them -as a special favor to send it back to you as a keepsake. Don't forget to -take good care of it. I was always rather proud of my yaller mop." - -He had said more; he had kept on calling to her till the big woods -swallowed him. But she had understood nothing after that last awful -charge. It had happened more than fifteen years before, but for many and -many a day thereafter, sensitive mite that she had been, she would run -and hide in the hay-mow whenever she saw her father or the boys coming -from town with the mail. It was years before the horror of the expected -packet containing the fair hair of her young uncle, dabbled with blood, -fell away from her. - -Gradually the awfulness of that dread expectation passed away. Now, that -same dear uncle was a man of power and position in the new land that had -graciously permitted him his scalp. Only last November he had been -reelected to his third term on the bench of his circuit with a big, -heart-stirring majority. In the day of his prosperity he had not -forgotten the little, tangle-haired girl who had cried so inconsolably -when he went away, and the unaccountable horror in whose eyes he had -tried to laugh away on that never-to-be-forgotten day when he had -wrenched his heartstrings from their safe abiding-place and gone forth -in quest of the pot of gold at the rainbow's end--the first of many -generations. Tradition knew no other since his ancestors had felled -forests and built homes of hewn logs. Now he had sent for Louise. His -court reporter had recently left him for other fields of labor. - -There was commotion among her people on receipt of the astounding -proposition. She lived over again the dark days of the first flitting. -It might well be her uncle had exaggerated the dangers of life in the -new land. It was great fun to shock his credulous relatives. He had -surely written them some enormous tales during those fifteen years and -more. He used to chuckle heartily to himself at reading some of the -sympathizing replies. But these tales were held in evidence against him -now that he dared to want Louise. Every letter was brought out by -Louise's dear old grandmother and read to her over again. Louise did not -half believe them, but they were gospel truth to her grandmother and -almost so to her father and mother as well. She remembered the old -spirit of fun rampant in her favorite uncle, and while his vivid -pictures took all the color from her sensitive face, deep down in her -heart she recognized them for what they were worth. The letters were a -strange medley of grasshoppers, blizzards, and Indians. But a ten-dollar -per diem was a great temptation over a five-dollar per diem, and times -were pretty hard on the old farm. More than all, the inexplicable -something that had led her uncle to throw tradition to the four winds of -heaven was calling her persistently and would not be denied. So she had -written to him for the truth. - -"My dear child," he had answered, "I live in a little city whose -civilization would make some of our good friends in the old home stare. -As for grasshoppers, I believe there was some crazy talk ages ago, but -in my day I do well to corner enough scrawny, scared specimens to land a -fish in midsummer. Their appalling scarcity is a constant sorrow to me. -Makes me plumb mad even yet to think of the hopeless hours I used to -spend blistering my nose on White River, dangling for my finny favorite -with dough-balls. Dough-balls--ugh! 'Send us more grasshoppers, oh, -Lord,' is my daily prayer. As for your last question, I cannot answer it -so well. Not enjoying the personal acquaintance of many Indians I cannot -tell you much about them. I believe there are a few over on the Crow -Creek Reservation and perhaps as many on Lower Brule. I wouldn't be -positive, but I think so. Occasionally I meet one coming from that -direction. I have heard--mind, this is only hearsay--that there are a -handful or so down on the Rosebud Reservation. I wouldn't vouch for it. -You can hear most anything in this day and generation. The few I have -met seem mild enough. They appear to be rather afraid of me. Their chief -occupations seem to be dog-eating and divorce-getting, so you can see -for yourself how highly modern and civilized they are becoming. I am -sure you will have no trouble." - -Louise had not altogether believed this rollicking letter, but it had -helped her to her decision. - -Wind City and still no Indians; but there was the dear hero of her -childhood. He was much changed to be sure; his big joints had taken on -more flesh and he had gained in dignity of deportment what he had lost -in ease of movement. His once merry eyes had grown keen with the years -of just judging. The lips that had laughed so much in the old days were -set in lines of sternness. Judge Hammond Dale was a man who would live -up to the tenets of his high calling without fear or favor, through good -and evil report. Yet through all his gravity of demeanor and the pride -of his integrity, Louise instinctively felt his kindliness and loved him -for it. The loneliness fell away from her and a measure of content had -come in its place, until the letter had come from the State's attorney -up in the Kemah County:-- - - My dear Miss Dale:--The eighteenth of August is the date set for the - preliminary hearing of Jesse Black. Will you come and take the - testimony? I am very anxious that the testimony be taken by a - competent reporter and shall be grateful to you if you decide to come. - - The Judge will tell you about our poor accommodations. Let me - recommend to your consideration some good friends of mine, the - Willistons, father and daughter. They live three miles northwest of - Kemah. The Judge will remember Williston, George Williston of the Lazy - S. They are cultured people, though their way of living is necessarily - primitive. I am sure you will like it better there than at our shabby - little hotel, which is a rendezvous for a pretty rough class of men, - especially at court time. - - If you decide to come, Mary Williston will meet you at Velpen. Please - let me know your decision. - - Very sincerely, Richard Gordon. - -So here she was, going into the Indian country at last. A big State, -South Dakota, and the phases of its civilization manifold. Having come -so far, to refuse to go on seemed like turning back with her hand -already on the plough, so with a stout heart she had wired Richard -Gordon that she would go. But it was pretty hard now, to be sure, and -pretty dreary, coming into Velpen knowing that she would see no one she -knew in all the wide, wide world. The thought choked her and the impish -demon, Loneliness, he of the smirk and horns and devil's eyes, loomed -leeringly before her again. Blindly, she picked up her umbrella, -suit-case, and rain-coat. - -"Homesick?" asked the kindly brakeman, with a consolatory grin as he -came to assist her with her baggage. - -She bit her lip in mortification to think she had carried her feelings -so palpably on her sleeve. But she nodded honestly. - -"Maybe it won't be so bad," sympathized the brakeman. His rough heart -had gone out to the slim, fair-haired young creature with the vague -trouble in her eyes. - -"Thank you," said Louise, gratefully. - -There was a moment's bewilderment on the station platform. There was no -one anywhere who seemed to be Mary--no one who might be looking for her. -It was evening, too, the lonesome evening to those away from home, when -thoughts stab and memories sap the courage. Some one pushed her rudely -aside. She was in the way of the trucks. - -"Chuck it! None o' your sass, my lad! There's my fist. Heft it if you -don't put no stock in its looks. Git out o' this, I say!" - -The voice was big and convincing. The man wasn't so big, but some way he -looked convincing, too. The truckman stepped aside, but with plucky -temerity answered back. - -"Get out yourself! Think you own the whole cattle country jest 'cause -you herd a few ornery, pink-eyed, slab-sided critters for your salt? -Well, the railroad ain't the range, le' me tell you that. Jest you run -your own affairs, will you?" - -"Thanky. Glad to. And as my affairs is at present a lady, I'll thank you -to jest trundle this here railroad offspring to the back o' this here -lady--the back, I say--back ain't front, is it? Wasn't where I was -eddicated. That's better. And ef you ain't satisfied, why, I belong to -the Three Bars. Ever hear o' the Three Bars? Ef I'm out, jest leave word -with the Boss, will you? He'll see I git the word. Yes, sir, you ol' hoss -thief, I belong to the Three Bars." - -The encounter was not without interested spectators. Louise's brakeman -was grinning broadly at the discomfiture of his fellow-employee. Louise -herself had forgotten her predicament in the sudden whirlwind of which -she was the innocent storm-centre. - -The cowboy with the temper, having completely routed the enemy to the -immense satisfaction of the onlookers, though why, no one knew exactly, -nor what the merits of the case, turned abruptly to Louise. - -"Are you her?" he asked, with a perceptible cooling of his assertive -bravado. - -"I don't know," said Louise, smiling fearlessly at her champion, though -inwardly quaking at the intuition that had flashed upon her that this -strange, uncouth man had come to take the place of Mary. "The boldness -and license of the cowboys," her aunt had argued. There could be no -doubt of the boldness. Would the rest of the statement hold good? - -"I think maybe I am, though I am Louise Dale, the new court reporter. I -expected Miss Mary Williston to meet me." - -"Then you are her," said the man, with renewed cheerfulness, seizing her -suit-case and striding off. "Come along. We'll git some supper afore we -start. You're dead tired, more'n likely. It'll be moonlight so't won't -matter ef we are late a gittin' home." - -"Court reporter! I'll be doggoned!" muttered the brakeman. "The new girl -from down East. A pore little white lamb among a pack o' wolves and -coyotes, and homesick a'ready. No wonder! I'll be takin' you back -to-morrow, I'm thinkin', young lady." - -He didn't know the "little white lamb" who had come to help Paul -Langford and Dick Gordon in their big fight. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -"MAGGOT" - - -An hour prior to this little episode, Jim Munson had sauntered up to the -ticket window only to find that the train from the East was forty -minutes late. He turned away with a little shrug of relief. It was a -foreign role he was playing,--this assumption of the duties of a knight -in dancing attendance on strange ladies. Secretly, he chafed under it; -outwardly, he was magnificently indifferent. He had a reputation to -sustain, a reputation of having yet to meet that which would lower his -proud boast that he was afraid of nothing under the sun, neither man nor -devil. But he doubted his ability so to direct the point of view of the -Boss or the Scribe or the rest of the boys of the Three Bars ranch, who -were on a still hunt for his spot of vulnerability. - -The waiting-room was hot,--unbearably so to a man who practically lived -in the open. He strolled outside and down the tracks. He found himself -wishing the train had been on time. Had it been so, it--the impending -meeting--would now have been a thing of the forgotten past. He must needs -fortify himself all over again. But sauntering down the track toward the -stockyards, he filled his cob pipe, lighted it, and was comforted. He -had a forty-minute reprieve. - -The boys had tried most valiantly to persuade him to "fix up" for this -event. He had scorned them indignantly. If he was good enough as he -was--black woollen shirt, red neckerchief and all--for men, just so was he -good enough for any female that ever lived. So he assumed a little -swagger as he stepped over the ties, and tried to make himself believe -that he was glad he had not allowed himself to be corrupted by proffers -of blue shirts and white neckerchiefs. - -He was approaching the stockyards. There was movement there. Sounds of -commands, blows, profane epithets, and worried bawlings changed the -placid evening calm into noisy strife. It is always a place interesting -to cowmen. Jim relegated thoughts of the coming meeting to the -background while he leaned on the fence, and, with idle absorption, -watched the loading of cattle into a stock car. A switch engine, -steaming and spluttering, stood ready to make way for another car so -soon as the present one should be laden. He was not the only spectator. -Others were before him. Two men strolled up to the side opposite as he -settled down to musing interest. - -"Gee!" he swore gently under his breath, "ef that ain't Bill Brown! Yep. -It is, for a fac'. Wonder what he's a shippin' now for!" He scrambled -lightly over the high fence of the pen. - -"Hullo, there, Bill Brown!" he yelled, genially, making his way as one -accustomed through the bunch of reluctant, excited cattle. - -"Hullo yourself, Jim! What you doin' in town?" responded the man -addressed, pausing in his labor to wipe the streaming moisture from his -face. He fanned himself vigorously with his drooping hat while he -talked. - -"Gal huntin'," answered Jim, soberly and despondently. - -"Hell!" Brown surveyed him with astonished but sympathetic approbation. -"Hell!" he repeated. "You don't mean it, do you, Jim, honest? Come, now, -honest? So you've come to it, at last, have you? Well, well! What's -comin' over the Three Bars? What'll the boys say?" - -He came nearer and lowered his voice to a confidential tone. "Say, Jim, -how did it come about? And who's the lady? Lord, Jim, you of all -people!" He laughed uproariously. - -"Aw, come off!" growled Jim, in petulant scorn. "You make me tired! -You're plumb luney, that's what you are. I'm after the new gal reporter. -She's due on that low-down, ornery train. Wish--it--was in Kingdom Come. -Yep, I do, for a fac'." - -"Oh, well, never mind! I didn't mean anything," laughed Brown, -good-naturedly. "But it does beat the band, Jim, now doesn't it, how you -people scare at petticoats. They ain't pizen--honest." - -Jim looked on idly. Occasionally, he condescended to head a rebellious -steer shute-wards. Out beyond, it was still and sweet and peaceful, and -the late afternoon had put on that thin veil of coolness which is a -God-given refreshment after the heat of the day. But here in the pen all -was confusion. The raucous cattle-calls of the cowboys smote the evening -air startlingly. - -"Here, Bill Brown!" he exclaimed suddenly, "where did you run across -that critter?" He slapped the shoulder of a big, raw-boned, long-eared -steer as he spoke. The animal was on the point of being driven up the -shute. - -"What you want to know for?" asked Brown in surprise. - -"Reason 'nough. That critter belongs to us, that's why; and I want to -know where you got him, that's what I want to know." - -"You're crazy, Jim! Why, I bought that fellow from Jesse Black t' other -day. I've got a bill-of-sale for him. I'm shippin' a couple of cars to -Sioux City and bought him to send along. That's on the square." - -"I don't doubt it--s' far as you're concerned, Bill Brown," said Jim, -"but that's our critter jest the same, and I'll jest tote 'im along 'f -you've no objections." - -"Well, I guess not!" said Brown, laconically. - -"Look here, Bill Brown," Jim was getting hot-headedly angry, "didn't you -know Jesse Black stands trial to-morrow for rustlin' that there very -critter from the Three Bars ranch?" - -"No, I didn't," Brown answered, shortly. "Any case?" - -"I guess yes! Williston o' the Lazy S saw this very critter on that -island where Jesse Black holds out." He proceeded to relate minutely the -story to which Williston was going to swear on the morrow. "But," he -concluded, "Jesse's goin' to fight like hell against bein' bound over." - -"Well, well," said Brown, perplexedly. "But the brand, Jim, it's not -yours or Jesse's either." - -"'Quainted with any J R ranch in these parts?" queried Jim, shrewdly. "I -ain't." - -"Well, neither am I," confessed Brown, "but that's not sayin' there -ain't one somewhere. Maybe we can trace it back." - -"Shucks!" exploded Jim. - -"Maybe you're right, Jim, but I don't propose to lose the price o' that -animal less'n I have to. You can't blame me for that. I paid good money -for it. If it's your'n, why, of course, it's your'n. But I want to be -sure first. Sure you'd know him, Jim? How could you be so blamed sure? -Your boss must range five thousand head." - -"Know him? Know Mag? I'd know Mag ef my eyes were full o' soundin' -cataracts. He's an old and tried friend o' mine. The meanest critter the -Lord ever let live and that's a fac'. But the Boss calls 'im his maggot. -Seems to actually cherish a kind o' 'fection for the ornery critter, and -says the luck o' the Three Bar would sort o' peak and pine ef he should -ever git rid o' the pesky brute. Maybe he's right. Leastwise, the -critter's his, and when a thing's yours, why, it's yours and that's all -there is about it. By cracky, the Boss is some mad! You'd think him and -that walleyed, cross-grained son-of-a-gun had been kind and lovin' mates -these many years. Well, I ain't met up with this ornery critter for some -time. Hullo there, Mag! Look kind o' sneakin', now, don't you, wearin' -that outlandish and unbeknownst J R?" - -Bill Brown thoughtfully surveyed the steer whose ownership was thus so -unexpectedly disputed. - -"You hold him," insisted Jim. "Ef he ain't ours, you can send him along -with your next shipment, can't you? What you wobblin' about? Ain't -afraid the Boss'll claim what ain't his, are you, Bill Brown?" - -"Well, I can't he'p myself, I guess," said Brown, in a tone of voice -which told plainly of his laudable effort to keep his annoyance in -subjection to his good fellowship. "You send Langford down here first -thing in the morning. If he says the critter's his'n, that ends it." - -Now that he had convinced his quondam acquaintance, the present shipper, -to his entire satisfaction, Jim glanced at his watch with ostentatious -ease. His time had come. If all the minutes of all the time to come -should be as short as those forty had been, how soon he, Jim Munson, -cow-puncher, would have ridden them all into the past. But his "get -away" must be clean and dignified. - -"Likely bunch you have there," he said, casually, turning away with -unassumed reluctance. - -"Fair to middlin'," said Brown with pride. - -"Shippin' to Sioux City, you said?" - -"Yep." - -"Well, so long." - -"So long. Shippin' any these days, Jim?" - -"Nope. Boss never dribbles 'em out. When he ships he ships. Ain't none -gone over the rails since last Fall." - -He stepped off briskly and vaulted the fence with as lightsome an air as -though he were bent on the one errand his heart would choose, and swung -up the track carelessly humming a tune. But he had a vise-like grip on -his cob pipe. His teeth bit through the frail stem. It split. He tossed -the remains away with a gesture of nervous contempt. A whistle sounded. -He quickened his pace. If he missed her,--well, the Boss was a good -fellow, took a lot of nonsense from the boys, but there were things he -would not stand for. Jim did not need to be told that this would be one -of them. - -The platform was crowded. The yellow sunlight fell slantingly on the gay -groups. - -"Aw, Munson, you're bluffin'," jested the mail carrier. "You ain't -lookin' fer nobody; you know you ain't. You ain't got no folks. Don't -believe you never had none. Never heard of 'em." - -"Lookin' for my uncle," explained Jim, serenely. "Rich old codger from -the State o' Pennsylvaney some'ers. Ain't got nobody but me left." - -"Aw, come off! What you givin' us?" - -But Jim only winked and slouched off, prime for more adventures. He was -enjoying himself hugely,--when he was not thinking of petticoats. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -AT THE BON AMI - - -Unlike most of those who ride much, her escort was a fast walker. Louise -had trouble in keeping up with him, though she had always considered -herself a good pedestrian. But Jim Munson was laboring under strange -embarrassment. He was red-facedly conscious of the attention he was -attracting striding up the inclined street from the station in the van -of the prettiest and most thoroughbred girl who had struck Velpen this -long time. - -Not that he objected to attention under normal conditions. Not he! He -courted it. His chief aim in life seemed to be to throw the limelight of -publicity, first, on the Three Bars ranch, as the one and only in the -category of ranches, and to be connected with it in some way, however -slight, the unquestioned aim and object of existence of every man, -woman, and child in the cattle country; secondly, on Paul Langford, the -very boss of bosses, whose master mind was the prop and stay of the -Northwest, if not of all Christendom; and lastly upon himself, the -modest, but loyal servitor in this Paradise on earth. But girls were far -from normal conditions. There were no women at the Three Bars. There -never had been any woman at the Three Bars within the memory of man. To -be sure, Williston's little girl had sometimes ridden over on an errand, -but she didn't count. This--this was the real thing, and he didn't know -just how to deal with it. He needed time to enlarge his sight to this -broadened horizon. - -He glanced with nonchalance over his shoulder. After all, she was only a -girl, and not such a big one either. She wore longer skirts than -Williston's girl, but he didn't believe she was a day older. He squared -about immediately, and what he had meant to say he never said, on -account of an unaccountable thickening of his tongue. - -Presently, he bolted into a building, which proved to be the Bon Ami, a -restaurant under the direct supervision of the fat, voluble, and tragic -Mrs. Higgins, where the men from the other side of the river had right -of way and unlimited credit. - -"What'll you have?" he asked, hospitably, the familiar air of the Bon -Ami bringing him back to his accustomed self-confident swagger. - -"Might I have some tea and toast, please?" said Louise, sinking into a -chair at the nearest table, with two startling yet amusing thoughts -rampant in her brain. One was, that she wished Aunt Helen could have -seen her swinging along in the wake of this typical "bold and -licentious" man, and calmly and comfortably sitting down to a cosy -little supper for two at a public eating house; the other startling -thought was to the effect that the invitation was redolent with -suggestiveness, and she wondered if she was not expected to say, "A -whiskey for me, please." - -"Guess you kin," answered Jim, wonder in his voice at the exceeding -barrenness of the order. "Mrs. Higgins, hello there, Mrs. Higgins! I -say, there, bring on some tea and toast for the lady!" - -"Where is the Three Bars?" asked Louise, her thoughts straying to the -terrors of a fifteen-mile drive through a strange and uncanny country -with a stranger and yet more uncanny man. She had accepted him without -question. He was part and parcel with the strangeness of her new -position. But the suddenness of the transition from idle conjecture to -startling reality had raised her proud head and she looked this new -development squarely in the face without outward hint of inward -perturbation. - -"Say, where was you raised?" asked Jim, with tolerant scorn, between -huge mouthfuls of boiled pork and cabbage, interspersed with baked -potatoes, hot rolls, and soggy dumplings, shovelled in with knife, fork, -or spoon. He occasionally anticipated dessert by making a sudden sortie -into the quarter of an immense custard pie, hastening the end by means -of noisy draughts of steaming coffee. Truly, the Three Bars connection -had the fat of the land at the Bon Ami. - -"Why, it's the Three Bars that's bringin' you here. Didn't you know -that? There's nary a man in the hull country with backbone enough to -keep him off all-fours 'ceptin' Paul Langford. Um. You just try once to -walk over the Boss, will you? Lord! What a grease spot you'd make!" - -"Mr. Gordon isn't being walked over, is he?" asked Louise, finished with -her tea and toast and impatient to be off. - -"Oh, Gordon? Pretty decent sort o' chap. Right idees. Don't know much -about handlin' hoss thieves and sich. Ain't smooth enough. Acted kind o' -like a chicken with its head cut off till the Boss got into the -roundup." - -"Oh!" said Louise, whose conception of the young counsel for the State -did not tally with this delineation. - -"Yep, Miss, this here's the Boss's doin's. Yep. Lord! What'll that gang -look like when we are through with 'em? Spendin' the rest o' their days -down there in Sioux Falls, meditatin' on the advisability o' walkin' -clear o' the toes o' the Three Bars in the future and cussin' their -stupendified stupidity in foolin' even once with the Three Bars. Yep, -sir--yep, ma'am, I mean,--Jesse Black and his gang have acted just like -pesky, little plum'-fool moskeeters, and we're goin' to slap 'em. The -cheek of 'em, lightin' on the Three Bars! Lord!" - -"Mr. Williston informed, did he not?" - -"Williston? Oh, yes, he informed, but he'd never 'a' done it if it -hadn't 'a' been for the Boss. The ol' jellyfish wouldn't 'a' had the -nerve to inform without backin', as sure as a stone wall. The Boss is a -doin' this, I tell you, Miss. But Williston's a goin' on the stand -to-morrer all right, and so am I." - -The two cowboys at the corner table had long since finished their -supper. They now lighted bad-smelling cigars and left the room. To -Louise's great relief, Munson rose, too. He was back very soon with a -neat little runabout and a high-spirited team of bays. - -"Boss's private," explained Jim with pride. "Nothin' too good for a -lady, so the Boss sent this and me to take keer o' it. And o' you, too, -Miss," he added, as an afterthought. - -He held the lines in his brown, muscular hands, lovingly, while he -stowed away Louise's belongings and himself snugly in the seat, and then -the blood burned hot and stinging through his bronzed, tough skin, for -suddenly in his big, honest, untrained sensibilities was born the -consciousness that the Boss would have stowed away the lady first. It -was an embarrassing moment. Louise saved the day by climbing in -unconcernedly after him and tucking the linen robe over her skirt. - -"It will be a dusty drive, won't it?" she asked, simply. - -"Miss, you're a--dandy," said Jim as simply. - -As they drove upon the pontoon bridge, Louise looked back at the little -town on the bluffs, and felt a momentary choking in her throat. It was a -strange place, yet it had tendrils reaching homeward. The trail beyond -was obscurely marked and not easy to discern. She turned to her -companion and asked quickly: "Why didn't Mary come?" - -"Great guns! Did I forgit to tell you? Williston's got the stomach-ache -to beat the band and Mary's got to physic him up 'gin to-morrer. We've -got to git him on that stand if it takes the hull Three Bars to hol' him -up and the gal a pourin' physic down him between times. Yep, Ma'am. He -was pizened. You see, everybody that ate any meat last night was took -sick with gripin' cramps, yep; but Williston he was worse'n all, he -bein' a hearty eater. He was a stayin' in town over night on this -preliminary business, and Dick Gordon he was took, too, but not so bad, -bein' what you might call a light eater. The Boss and me we drove home -after all, though we'd expected to stay for supper. The pesky coyotes -got fooled that time. Yep, Ma'am, no doubt about it in the world. -Friends o' Jesse's that we ain't able to lay hands on yit pizened that -there meat. Yep, no doubt about it. Dick was in an awful sweat about -you. Was bound he was a comin' after you hisself, sick as he was, when -we found Mary was off the count. So then the Boss was a comin' and they -fit and squabbled for an hour who could be best spared, when I, comin' -in, settled it in a jiffy by offerin' my services, which was gladly -accepted. When there's pizenin' goin' on, why, the Boss's place is hum. -And nothin' would do but the Boss's own particular outfit. He never does -things by halves, the Boss don't. So I hikes home after it and then -hikes here." - -"I am very grateful to him, I am sure," murmured Louise, smiling. - -And Jim, daring to look upon her smiling face, clear eyes, and soft hair -under the jaunty French sailor hat, found himself wondering why there -was no woman at the Three Bars. With the swift, half-intuitive thought, -the serpent entered Eden. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -"NOTHIN' BUT A HOSS THIEF, ANYWAY" - - -The island teemed with early sunflowers and hints of goldenrod yet to -come. The fine, white, sandy soil deadened the sound of the horses' -hoofs. They seemed to be spinning through space. Under the cottonwoods -it grew dusky and still. - -At the toll house a dingy buckboard in a state of weird dilapidation, -with a team of shaggy buckskin ponies, stood waiting. Jim drew up. Two -men were lounging in front of the shanty, chatting to the toll-man. - -"Hello, Jim!" called one of them, a tall, slouching fellow with sandy -coloring. - -"Now, how the devil did you git so familiar with my name?" growled Jim. - -"The Three Bars is gettin' busy these days," spoke up the second man, -with an insolent grin. - -"You bet it is," bragged Jim. "When the off'cers o' the law git to -sleepin' with hoss thieves and rustlers, and take two weeks to arrest a -bunch of 'em, when they know prezactly where they keep theirselves, and -have to have special deputies app'inted over 'em five or six times and -then let most o' the bunch slip through their fingers, it's time for -some one to git busy. And when Jesse Black and his gang are so desp'rit -they pizen the chief witnesses--" - -A gentle pressure on his arm stopped him. He turned inquiringly. - -"I wouldn't say any more," whispered Louise. "Let's get on." - -The hint was sufficient, and with the words, "Right you are, Miss -Reporter, we'll be gittin' on," Jim paid his toll and spoke to his team. - -"Just wait a bit, will you?" spoke up the sandy man. - -"What for?" - -"We're not just ready." - -"Well, we are," shortly. - -"We aren't, and we don't care to be passed, you know." - -He spoke indifferently. In deference to Louise, Jim waited. The men -smoked on carelessly. The toll-man fidgeted. - -"You go to hell! The Three Bars ain't waitin' on no damned hoss -thieves," said Jim, suddenly. - -His nervous team sprang forward. Quick as a flash the sandy man was in -the buckboard. He struck the bays a stinging blow with his rawhide, and -as they swerved aside he swung into the straight course to the narrow -bridge of boats. In another moment the way would be blocked. With a -burning oath Jim, keeping to the side of the steep incline till the -river mire cut him off, deliberately turned his stanch little team -squarely, and crowded them forward against the shaggy buckskins. It was -team against team. Louise, clinging tightly to the seat, lips pressed -together to keep back any sound, felt a wild, inexplicable thrill of -confidence in the strength of the man beside her. - -The bays were pitifully, cruelly lashed by the enraged owner of the -buckskins, but true as steel to the familiar voice that had guided them -so often and so kindly, they gave not nor faltered. There was a snapping -of broken wood, a wrench, a giving way, and the runabout sprang over -debris of broken wheel and wagon-box to the narrow confines of the -pontoon bridge. - -"The Three Bars is gettin' busy!" gibed Jim over his shoulder. - -"It's a sorry day for you and yours," cried the other, in black and ugly -wrath. - -"We ain't afeared. You're nothin' but a hoss thief, anyway!" responded -Jim, gleefully, as a parting shot. - -"Now what do you suppose was their game?" he asked of the girl at his -side. - -"I don't know," answered Louise, thoughtfully. "But I thought it not -wise to say too much to them. You are a witness, I believe you said." - -"Then you think they are part o' the gang?" - -"I consider them at least sympathizers, don't you? They seemed down on -the Three Bars." - -In the Indian country at last. Mile after mile of level, barren -stretches after the hill region had been left behind. Was there no end -to the thirst-inspiring, monotonous, lonely reach of cacti? Prairie -dogs, perched in front of their holes, chattered and scolded at them. -The sun went down and a refreshing coolness crept over the hard, baked -earth. Still, there was nothing but distance anywhere in all the land, -and a feeling of desolation swept over the girl. - -The air of August was delicious now that night was coming on. There was -no wind, but the swift, unflagging pace of the Boss's matched team made -a stiff breeze to play in their faces. It was exhilarating. The -listlessness and discouragement of the day were forgotten. Throwing her -rain-coat over her shoulders, Louise felt a clumsy but strangely gentle -hand helping to draw it closer around her. Someway the action, simple as -it was, reminded her of the look in that brakeman's eyes, when he had -asked her if she were homesick. Did this man think she was homesick, -too? She was grateful; they were very kind. What a lot of good people -there were in the world! Now, Jim Munson did not call her "little white -lamb" to himself, the metaphor never entered his mind; but in his big, -self-confident heart he did feel a protecting tenderness for her. She -was not like any woman he had ever seen, and it was a big, lonesome -country for a slip of a girl like her. - -The moon came up. Then there were miles of white moonlight and lonely -plain. But for some time now there has been a light in front of them. It -is as if it must be a will-o'-the-wisp. They never seem to get to it. -But at last they are there. The door is wide open. A pleasant odor of -bacon and coffee is wafted out to the tired travellers. - -"Come right in," says the cheery voice of Mary. "How tired you must be, -Miss Dale. Tie up, Jim, and come in and eat something before you go. -Well, you can eat again--two suppers won't hurt you. I have kept things -warm for you. Your train must have been late. Yes, Dad is better, thank -you. He'll be all right in the morning." - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE PRELIMINARY - - -Very early in the morning of the day set for the preliminary hearing of -Jesse Black, the young owner of the Three Bars ranch rode over to -Velpen. He identified and claimed the animal held over from shipment by -Jim's persuasion. Brown gave possession with a rueful countenance. - -"First time Billy Brown ever was taken in," he said, with great disgust. - -Langford met with no interruption to his journey, either going or -coming, although that good cowpuncher of his, Jim Munson, had warned him -to look sharp to his pistols and mind the bridge. Jim being of a -somewhat belligerent turn of mind, his boss had not taken the words with -much seriousness. As for the fracas at the pontoon, cowmen are touchy -when it comes to a question of precedence, and it might well be that the -inflammable Jim had brought the sudden storm down on his head. Paul -Langford rode through the sweet early summer air without let or -hindrance and looking for none. He was jubilant. Now was Williston's -story verified. The county attorney, Richard Gordon, had considered -Williston's story, coupled with his reputation for strict honesty, -strong and sufficient enough to bind Jesse Black over to appear at the -next regular term of the circuit court. Under ordinary circumstances, -the State really had an excellent chance of binding over; but it had to -deal with Jesse Black, and Jesse Black had flourished for many years -west of the river with an unsavory character, but with an almost awesome -reputation for the phenomenal facility with which he slipped out of the -net in which the law--in the person of its unpopular exponent, Richard -Gordon--was so indefatigably endeavoring to enmesh him. The State was -prepared for a hard fight. But now--here was the very steer Williston saw -on the island with its Three Bars brand under Black's surveillance. -Williston would identify it as the same. He, Langford, would swear to -his own animal. The defence would not know he had regained possession -and would not have time to readjust its evidence. It would fall down and -hurt itself for the higher court, and Dick Gordon would know how to use -any inadvertencies against it--when the time came. No wonder Langford was -light-hearted. In all his arrogant and unhampered career, he had never -before received such an affront to his pride and his sense of what was -due to one of the biggest outfits that ranged cattle west of the river. -Woe to him who had dared tamper with the concerns of Paul Langford of -the Three Bars. - -Williston drove in from the Lazy S in ample time for the mid-day dinner -at the hotel--the hearing was set for two o'clock--but his little party -contented itself with a luncheon prepared at home, and packed neatly and -appetizingly in a tin bucket. It was not likely there would be a -repetition of bad meat. It would be poor policy. Still, one could not be -sure, and it was most important that Williston ate no bad meat that day. - -Gordon met them in the hot, stuffy, little parlor of the hotel. - -"It was good of you to come," he said to Louise, with grave sincerity. - -"I didn't want to," confessed Louise, honestly. "I'm afraid it is too -big and lonesome for me. I am sure I should have gone back to Velpen -last night to catch the early train had it not been for Mary. She is -so--good." - -"The worst is over now that you have conquered your first impulse to -fly," he said. - -"I cried, though. I hated myself for it, but I couldn't help it. You see -I never was so far from home before." - -He was an absorbed, hard-working lawyer. Years of contact with the -plain, hard realities of rough living in a new country had dried up, -somewhat, his stream of sentiment. Maybe the source was only blocked -with debris, but certainly the stream was running dry. He could not help -thinking that a girl who cries because she is far from home had much -better stay at home and leave the grave things which are men's work to -men. But he was a gentleman and a kindly one, so he answered, quietly, -"I trust you will like us better when you know us better," and, after a -few more commonplaces, went his way. - -"There's a man," said Louise, thoughtfully, on the way to McAllister's -office "I like him, Mary." - -"And yet there are men in this county who would kill him if they dared." - -"Mary! what do you mean? Are there then so many cut-throats in this -awful country?" - -"I think there are many desperate men among the rustlers who would not -hesitate to kill either Paul Langford or Richard Gordon since these -prosecutions have begun. There are also many good people who think Mr. -Gordon is just stirring up trouble and putting the county to expense -when he can have no hope of conviction. They say that his failures -encourage the rustlers more than an inactive policy would." - -"People who argue like that are either tainted with dishonesty -themselves or they are foolish, one of the two," said Louise, with -conviction. - -"Mr. Gordon has one stanch supporter, anyway," said Mary, smiling. -"Maybe I had better tell him. Precious little encouragement or sympathy -he gets, poor fellow." - -"Please do not," replied Louise, quickly. "I wonder if my friend, Mr. -Jim Munson, has managed to escape 'battle, murder, and sudden death,' -including death by poison, and is on hand with his testimony." - -As they approached the office, the crowd of men around the doorway drew -aside to let them pass. - -"Our chances of worming ourselves through that jam seem pretty slim to -me," whispered Mary, glancing into the already overcrowded room. - -"Let me make a way for you," said Paul Langford, as he separated himself -from the group of men standing in front, and came up to them. - -"I have watered my horse," he said, flashing a merry smile at Mary as he -began shoving his big shoulders through the press, closely followed by -the two young women. - -It was a strange assembly through which they pressed; ranchmen and -cowboys, most of them, just in from ranch and range, hot and dusty from -long riding, perspiring freely, redolent of strong tobacco and the -peculiar smell that betokens recent and intimate companionship with that -part and parcel of the plains, the horse. The room was indeed hot and -close and reeking with bad odors. There were also present a large -delegation of cattle dealers and saloon men from Velpen, and some few -Indians from Rosebud Agency, whose curiosity was insatiable where the -courts were concerned, far from picturesque in their ill-fitting, -nondescript cowboy garments. - -Yet they were kindly, most of the men gathered there. Though at first -they refused, with stolid resentment, to be thus thrust aside by the -breezy and aggressive owner of the Three Bars, planting their feet the -more firmly on the rough, uneven floor, and serenely oblivious to any -right of way so arrogantly demanded by the big shoulders, yet, when they -perceived for whom the way was being made, most of them stepped hastily -aside with muttered and abashed apologies. Here and there, however, -though all made way, there would be no red-faced or stammering apology. -Sometimes the little party was followed by insolent eyes, sometimes by -malignant ones. Had Mary Williston spoken truly when she said the will -for bloodshed was not lacking in the county? - -But if there was aught of hatred or enmity in the heavy air of the -improvised court-room for others besides the high-minded young counsel -for law and order, Mary Williston seemed serenely unconscious of it. She -held her head proudly. Most of these men she knew. She had done a man's -work among them for two years and more. In her man's work of riding the -ranges she had had good fellowship with many of them. After to-day much -of this must end. Much blame would accrue to her father for this day's -work, among friends as well as enemies, for the fear of the law-defiers -was an omnipresent fear with the small owner, stalking abroad by day and -by night. But Mary was glad and there was a new dignity about her that -became her well, and that grew out of this great call to rally to the -things that count. - -At the far end of the room they found the justice of the peace enthroned -behind a long table. His Honor, Mr. James R. McAllister, more commonly -known as Jimmie Mac, was a ranchman on a small scale. He was ignorant, -but of an overweening conceit. He had been a justice of the peace for -several years, and labored under the mistaken impression that he knew -some law; but Gordon, on short acquaintance, had dubbed him "Old -Necessity" in despairing irony, after a certain high light of early -territorial days who "knew no law." Instead of deciding the facts in the -cases brought before him from the point of view of an ordinary man of -common sense, McAllister went on the theory that each case was fraught -with legal questions upon which the result of the case hung; and he had -a way of placing himself in the most ridiculous lights by arguing long -and arduously with skilled attorneys upon questions of law. He made the -mistake of always trying to give a reason for his rulings. His rulings, -sometimes, were correct, but one would find it hard to say the same of -his reasons for them. - -Louise's little table was drawn closely before the window nearest the -court. She owed this thoughtfulness to Gordon, who, nevertheless, was -not in complete sympathy with her, because she had cried. The table was -on the sunny side, but there was a breeze out of the west and it played -refreshingly over her face, and blew short strands of her fair hair -there also. To Gordon, wrapped up as he was in graver matters, her sweet -femininity began to insist on a place in his mental as well as his -physical vision. She was exquisitely neat and trim in her white -shirt-waist with its low linen collar and dark blue ribbon tie of the -same shade as her walking skirt, and the smart little milliner's bow on -her French sailor hat, though it is to be doubted if Gordon observed the -harmony. She seemed strangely out of place in this room, so bare of -comfort, so stuffy and stenchy and smoke-filled; yet, after all, she -seemed perfectly at home here. The man in Gordon awoke, and he was glad -she had not stayed at home or gone away because she cried. - -Yes, Jim was there--and swaggering. It was impossible for Jim not to -swagger a little on any occasion. The impulse to swagger had been born -in him. It had been carefully nurtured from the date of his first -connection with the Three Bars. He bestowed an amiable grin of -recognition on the new reporter from the far side of the room, which was -not very far. - -The prisoner was brought in. His was a familiar personality. He was -known to most men west of the river--if not by personal acquaintance, -certainly by hearsay. Many believed him to be the animating mind of a -notorious gang of horse thieves and cattle rustlers that had been -operating west of the river for several years. Lax laws were their -nourishment. They polluted the whole. It was a deadly taint to fasten -itself on men's relations. Out of it grew fear, bribery, official -rottenness, perjury. There was an impudent half smile on his lips. He -was a tall, lean, slouching-shouldered fellow. To-day, his jaws were -dark with beard bristles of several days' standing. He bore himself with -an easy, indifferent manner, and chewed tobacco enjoyingly. - -Louise, glancing casually around at the mass of interested, sunbrowned -faces, suddenly gave a little start of surprise. Not far in front of -Jimmie Mac's table stood the man of the sandy coloring who had so -insolently disputed their right of way the day before. His hard, light -eyes, malignant, sinister, significant, were fixed upon the prisoner as -he slouched forward to hear his arraignment. The man in custody yawned -occasionally. He was bored. His whole body had a lazy droop. So far as -Louise could make out he gave no sign of recognition of the man of sandy -coloring. - -Then came the first great surprise of this affair of many surprises. -Jesse Black waived examination. It came like a thunderbolt to the -prosecution. It was not Black's way of doing business, and it was -generally believed that, as Munson had so forcibly though inelegantly -expressed it to Billy Brown, "He would fight like hell" to keep out of -the circuit courts. He would kill this incipient Nemesis in the bud. -What, then, had changed him? The county attorney had rather looked for a -hard-fought defence--a shifting of the burden of responsibility for the -misbranding to another, who would, of course, be off somewhere on a -business trip, to be absent an indefinite length of time; or it might be -he would try to make good a trumped-up story that he had but lately -purchased the animal from some Indian cattle-owner from up country who -claimed to have a bill-of-sale from Langford. He would not have been -taken aback had Black calmly produced a bill-of-sale. - -There were lines about the young attorney's mouth, crow's feet diverging -from his eyes; his forehead was creased, too. He was a tall man, slight -of build, with drooping shoulders. One of the noticeable things about -him was his hands. They were beautiful--the long, slim, white kind that -attract attention, not so much, perhaps, on account of their graceful -lines, as because they are so seldom still. They belong preeminently to -a nervous temperament. Gordon had trained himself to immobility of -expression under strain, but his hands he had not been able so to -discipline. They were always at something, fingering the papers on his -desk, ruffling his hair, or noisily drumming. Now he folded them as if -to coerce them into quiet. He had handsome eyes, also, too keen, maybe, -for everyday living; they would be irresistible if they caressed. - -The absoluteness of the surprise flushed his clean-shaven face a little, -although his grave immobility of expression underwent not a flicker. It -was a surprise, but it was a good surprise. Jesse Black was bound over -under good and sufficient bond to appear at the next regular term of the -circuit court in December. That much accomplished, now he could buckle -down for the big fight. How often had he been shipwrecked in the -shifting sands of the really remarkable decisions of "Old Necessity" and -his kind. This time, as by a miracle, he had escaped sands and shoals -and sunken rocks, and rode in deep water. - -A wave of enlightenment swept over Jim Munson. - -"Boss," he whispered, "that gal reporter's a hummer." - -"How so?" whispered Langford, amused. He proceeded to take an -interested, if hasty, inventory of her charms. "What a petite little -personage, to be sure! Almost too colorless, though. Why, Jim, she can't -hold a tallow candle to Williston's girl." - -"Who said she could?" demanded Jim, with a fine scorn and much relieved -to find the Boss so unappreciative. Eden might not be lost to them after -all. Strict justice made him add: "But she's a wise one. Spotted them -blamed meddlin' hoss thieves right from the word go. Yep. That's a -fac'." - -"What 'blamed meddlin' hoss thieves,' Jim? You are on intimate terms -with so many gentlemen of that stripe,--at least your language so leads -us to presume,--that I can't keep up with the procession." - -"At the bridge yistidy. I told you 'bout it. Saw 'em first at the Bon -Amy--but they must a trailed me to the stockyards. She spotted 'em right -away. She's a cute 'n. Made me shet my mouth when I was a blabbin' too -much, jest before the fun began. Oh, she's a cute 'n!" - -"Who were they, Jim?" - -"One of 'em, I'm a thinkin', was Jake Sanderson, a red-headed devil who -came up here from hell, I reckon, or Wyoming, one of the two. Nobody -knows his biz. But he'll look like a stepped-on potato bug 'gainst I git -through with him. Didn't git on to t' other feller. Will next time, you -bet!" - -"But what makes you think they are mixed up in this affair?" - -"They had their eyes on me to see what I was a doin' in Velpen. And I -was a doin' things, too." - -Langford gave a long, low whistle of comprehension. That would explain -the unexpected waiving of examination. Jesse Black knew the steer had -been recovered and saw the futility of fighting against his being bound -over. - -"Now, ain't she a hummer?" insisted Jim, admiringly, but added -slightingly, "Homely, though, as all git-out. Mouse-hair. Plumb homely." - -"On the contrary, I think she is plumb pretty," retorted Langford, a -laugh in his blue eyes. Jim fairly gasped with chagrin. - -Unconcerned, grinning, Black slouched to the door and out. Once -straighten out that lazy-looking body and you would have a big man in -Jesse Black. Yes, a big one and a quick one, too, maybe. The crowd made -way for him unconsciously. No one jostled him. He was a marked man from -that day. His lawyer, Small, leaned back in his chair, radiating waves -of self-satisfaction as though he had but just gained a disputed point. -It was a manner he affected when not on the floor in a frenzy of words -and muscular action. - -Jim Munson contrived to pass close by Jake Sanderson. - -"So you followed me to find out about Mag, did you? Heap o' good it did -you! We knew you knew," he bragged, insultingly. - -The man's face went white with wrath. - -"Damn you!" he cried. His hand dropped to his belt. - -The two glared at each other like fighting cocks. Men crowded around, -suddenly aware that a quarrel was on. - -"The Three Bars's a gittin' busy!" jeered Jim. - -"Come, Jim, I want you." It was Gordon's quiet voice. He laid a -restraining hand on Munson's over-zealous arm. - -"Dick Gordon, this ain't your put-in," snarled Sanderson. "Git out the -way!" He shoved him roughly aside. "Now, snappin' turtle," to Jim, "the -Three Bars'd better git busy!" - -A feint at a blow, a clever little twist of the feet, and Munson -sprawled on the floor, men pressing back to give him the full force of -the fall. They believed in fair play. But Jim, uncowed, was up with the -nimbleness of a monkey. - -"Hit away!" he cried, tauntingly. "I know 'nough to swear out a warrant -'gainst you! 'T won't be so lonesome for Jesse now breakin' stones over -to Sioux Falls." - -"Jim!" It was Gordon's quiet, authoritative voice once more. "I told you -I wanted you." He threw his arm over the belligerent's shoulder. - -"Comin', Dick. I didn't mean to blab so much," Jim answered, contritely. - -They moved away. Sanderson followed them up. - -"Dick Gordon," he said with cool deliberateness, "you're too damned -anxious to stick your nose into other people's affairs. Learn your -lesson, will you? My favorite stunt is to teach meddlers how to mind -their own business,--this way." - -It was not a fair blow. Gordon doubled up with the force of the punch in -his stomach. In a moment all was confusion. Men drew their pistols. It -looked as if there was to be a free-for-all fight. - -Langford sprang to his friend's aid, using his fists with plentiful -freedom in his haste to get to him. - -"Never mind me," whispered Gordon. He was leaning heavily on Jim's -shoulder. His face was pale, but he smiled reassuringly. There was -something very sweet about his mouth when he smiled. "Never mind me," he -repeated. "Get the girls out of this--quick, Paul." - -Mary and Louise had sought refuge behind the big table. - -"Quick, the back door!" cried Langford, leading the way; and as the -three passed out, he closed the door behind them, saying, "You are all -right now. Run to the hotel. I must see how Dick is coming on." - -"Do you think he is badly hurt?" asked Louise. "Can't we help?" - -"I think you had best get out of this as quickly as you can. I don't -believe he is knocked out, by any means, but I want to be on hand for -any future events which may be called. Just fly now, both of you." - -The unfair blow in the stomach had given the sympathy of most of the -bystanders, for the time being at least, to Gordon. Men forgot, -momentarily, their grudge against him. Understanding from the black -looks that he was not in touch with the crowd, Sanderson laughed--a short -snort of contempt--and slipped out of the door. Unable to resist the -impulse, Jim bounded out after his enemy. - -When Paul hastened around to the front of the building, the crowd was -nearly all in the street. The tension was relaxed. A dazed expression -prevailed--brought to life by the suddenness with which the affair had -developed to such interesting proportions and the quickness with which -it had flattened out to nothing. For Sanderson had disappeared, -completely, mysteriously, and in all the level landscape, there was no -trace of him nor sign. - -"See a balloon, Jim?" asked Langford, slapping him on the shoulder with -the glimmer of a smile. "Well, your red-headed friend won't be down in a -parachute--yet. Are you all right, Dick, old man?" - -"Yes. Where are the girls?" - -"They are all right. I took them through the back door and sent them to -the hotel." - -"You kin bet on the Boss every time when it comes to petticoats," said -Jim, disconsolately. - -"Why, Jim, what's up?" asked Langford, in amused surprise. - -But Jim only turned and walked away with his head in the air. The -serpent was leering at him. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE COUNTY ATTORNEY - - -"I too am going to Wind City," said a pleasant voice at her side. "You -will let me help you with your things, will you not?" - -The slender girl standing before the ticket window, stuffing change into -her coin purse, turned quickly. - -"Why, Mr. Gordon," she said, holding out a small hand with frank -pleasure. "How very nice! Thank you, will you take my rain-coat? It has -been such a bother. I would bring it right in the face of Uncle -Hammond's objections. He said it never rained out this way. But I surely -have suffered a plenty for my waywardness. Don't you think so?" - -"It behooves a tenderfoot like you to sit and diligently learn of such -experienced and toughened old-timers as we are, rather than flaunt your -untried ideas in our faces," responded Gordon, with a smile that -transformed the keen gray eyes of this man of much labor, much lofty -ambition, and much sorrow, so that they seemed for the moment strangely -young, laughing, untroubled; as clear of taint of evil knowledge as the -source of a stream leaping joyously into the sunlight from some mountain -solitude. It was a revelation to Louise. - -"I will try to be a good and diligent seeker after knowledge of this -strange land of yours," she answered, with a little laugh half of -embarrassment, half of enjoyment of this play of nonsense, and leading -the way to her suit-case and Mary outside. "When I make mistakes, will -you tell me about them? Down East, you know, our feet travel in the -ancient, prescribed circles of our forefathers, and they are apt to go -somewhat uncertainly if thrust into new paths." - -And this laughing, clever girl had cried with homesickness! Well, no -wonder. The worst of it was, she could never hope to be acclimated. She -was not--their kind. Sooner or later she must go back to God's country. - -To her surprise, Gordon, though he laughed softly for a moment, answered -rather gravely. - -"If my somewhat niggardly fate should grant me that good fortune, that I -may do something for you, I ask that you be not afraid to trust to my -help. It would not be half-hearted--I assure you." - -She looked up at him gratefully. His shoulders, slightly stooped, -betokening the grind at college and the burden-bearing in later years, -instead of suggesting any inherent weakness in the man, rather inspired -her with an intuitive faith in their quiet, unswerving, utter -trustworthiness. - -"Thank you," she said, simply. "I am so glad they did not hurt you much -that day in the court-room. We worried--Mary and I." - -"Thank you. There was not the least danger. They were merely venting -their spite on me. They would not have dared more." - -There is always a crowd at the Velpen station for outgoing or incoming -trains. This meeting of trains is one of the dissipations of its -people--and an eminently respectable dissipation. It was early--the -eastbound leaves at something past eight--yet there were many people on -the platform who did not seem to be going anywhere. They were after such -stray worms as always fell to the lot of the proverbial early bird. The -particular worm in question that morning was the new girl court -reporter, homeward bound. Many were making the excuse of mailing belated -letters. Mary was standing guard over the suit-case and umbrella near -the last car. She seemed strangely alone and aloof standing there, the -gravity of the silent prairie a palpable atmosphere about her. - -"There's my brakeman," said Louise, when she and Gordon had found a seat -near the rear. Mary had gone and a brakeman had swung onto the last car -as it glided past the platform, and came down the aisle with a grin of -recognition for his "little white lamb." - -"How nice it all seems, just as if I had been gone months instead of -days and was coming home again. It would be funny if I should be -homesick for the range when I get to Wind City, wouldn't it?" - -"Let us pray assiduously that it may be so," answered Gordon, with one -of his rare smiles. He busied himself a moment in stowing away her -belongings to the best advantage. "It gets in one's blood,--how or when, -one never knows." - -They rode in silence for a while. - -"Tell me about your big fight," said Louise, presently. The road-bed was -fairly good, and they were spinning along on a down grade. He must needs -bend closer to hear her. - -She was good to look at, fair and sweet, and it had been weary years -since women had come close to Gordon's life. In the old college days, -before this hard, disappointing, unequal fight against the dominant -forces of greed, against tolerance of might overcoming right, had begun -to sap his vitality, he had gone too deeply into his studies to have -much time left for the gayeties and gallantries of the social side in -university life. He had not been popular with women. They did not know -him. Yet, though dubbed a "dig" by his fellow-collegians, the men liked -him. They liked him for his trustworthiness, admired him for his rugged -honesty, desired his friendship for the inspiration of his high ideals. - -The memory of these friendships with men had been an ever-present source -of strength and comfort to him in these later years of his busy life. -Yet of late he had felt himself growing calloused and tired. The -enthusiasm of his younger manhood was falling from him somewhat, and he -had been but six years out of the university. But it was all so -hopeless, so bitterly futile, this moral fight of one man to stay the -mind-bewildering and heart-sickening ceaseless round of wheels of open -crime and official chicanery. Was the river bridged? And what of the -straw? His name was a joke in the cattle country, a joke to horse thief, -a joke to sheriff. Its synonym was impotency among the law-abiders who -were yet political cowards. What was the use? What could a man do--one -man, when a fair jury was a dream, when ballots were so folded that the -clerk, drawing, might know which to select in order to obtain a jury -that would stand pat with the cattle rustlers? Much brain and brawn had -been thrown away in the unequal struggle. Let it pass. Was there any -further use? - -Then a woman came to him in his dark hour. His was a stubborn and -fighting blood, a blood that would never cry "enough" till it ceased to -flow. Yet what a comforting thing it was that this woman, Louise, should -be beside him, this woman who knew and who understood. For when she -lifted those tender gray eyes and asked him of his big fight, he knew -she understood. There was no need of explanation, of apology, for all -the failure of all these years. A warm gratitude swept across his heart. -And she was so neat and sweet and fair, unspoiled by constant contact -with, and intimate knowledge of, the life of the under world; rather was -she touched to a wonderful sympathy of understanding. It was good to -know such a woman; it would be better to be a friend of such a woman; it -would be best of all to love such a woman--if one dared. - -"What shall I talk about, Miss Dale? It is all very prosaic and -uninteresting, I'm afraid; shockingly primitive, glaringly new." - -"I breakfasted with a stanch friend of yours this morning," answered -Louise, somewhat irrelevantly. She had a feeling--a woman's feeling--that -this earnest, hard-working, reserved man would never blurt out things -about himself with the bland self-centredness of most men. She must use -all her woman's wit to draw him out. She did not know yet that he was -starved for sympathy--for understanding. She could not know yet that two -affinities had drifted through space--near together. A feathery zephyr, -blowing where it listed, might widen the space between to an infinity of -distance so that they might never know how nearly they had once met; or -it might, as its whim dictated, blow them together so that for weal or -for woe they would know each the other. - -"Mrs. Higgins, at the Bon Ami," she continued, smiling. "I was so hungry -when we got to Velpen, though I had eaten a tremendous breakfast at the -Lazy S. But five o'clock is an unholy hour at which to eat one's -breakfast, isn't it, and I just couldn't help getting hungry all over -again. So I persuaded Mary to stop for another cup of coffee. It is -ridiculous the way I eat in your country." - -"It is a good country," he said, soberly. - -"It must be--if you can say so." - -"Because I have failed, shall I cry out that law cannot be enforced in -Kemah County? Sometimes--may it be soon--there will come a man big enough -to make the law triumphant. He will not be I." - -He was still smarting from his many set-backs. He had worked hard and -had accomplished nothing. At the last term of court, though many cases -were tried, he had not secured one conviction. - -"We shall see," said Louise, softly. Her look, straight into his eyes, -was a glint of sunlight in dark places. Then she laughed. - -"Mrs. Higgins said to me: 'Jimmie Mac hain't got the sense he was born -with. His little, dried-up brain 'd rattle 'round in a mustard seed and -he's gettin' shet o' that little so fast it makes my head swim.' She was -telling about times when he hadn't acted just fair to you. I am -glad--from all I hear--that this was taken out of his hands." - -"I can count my friends, the real ones, on one hand, I'm afraid," said -Gordon, with a good-humored smile; "and Mrs. Higgins surely is the -thumb." - -"I am glad you smiled," said Louise. "That would have sounded so bitter -if you had not." - -"I couldn't help smiling. You--you have such a way, Miss Dale." - -It was blunt but it rang true. - -"It is true, though, about my friends. If I could convict--Jesse Black, -for instance,--a million friends would call me blessed. But I can't do it -alone. They will not do it; they will not help me do it; they despise me -because I can't do it, and swear at me because I try to do it--and there -you have the whole situation in a nutshell, Miss Dale." - -The sun struck across her face. He reached over and lowered the blind. - -"Thank you. But it is ''vantage in' now, is it not? You will get justice -before Uncle Hammond." - -Unconsciously his shoulders straightened. - -"Yes, Miss Dale, it is ''vantage in.' One of two things will come to -pass. I shall send Jesse Black over or--" he paused. His eyes, unseeing, -were fixed on the gliding landscape as it appeared in rectangular spots -through the window in front of them. - -"Yes. Or--" prompted Louise, softly. - -"Never mind. It is of no consequence," he said, abruptly. "No fear of -Judge Dale. Juries are my Waterloo." - -"Is it, then, such a nest of cowards?" cried Louise, intense scorn in -her clear voice. - -"Yes," deliberately. "Men are afraid of retaliation--those who are not -actually blood-guilty, as you might say. And who can say who is and who -is not? But he will be sent over this time. Paul Langford is on his -trail. Give me two men like Langford and that anachronism--an honest man -west of the river--Williston, and you can have the rest, sheriff and -all." - -"Mr. Williston--he has been unfortunate, has he not? He is such a -gentleman, and a scholar, surely." - -"Surely. He is one of the finest fellows I know. A man of the most -sensitive honor. If such a thing can be, I should say he is too honest, -for his own good. A man can be, you know. There is nothing in the world -that cannot be overdone." - -She looked at him earnestly. His eyes did not shift. She was satisfied. - -"Your work belies your words," she said, quietly. - -Dust and cinders drifted in between the slats of the closed blind. -Putting her handkerchief to her lips, Louise looked at the dark streaks -on it with reproach. - -"Your South Dakota dirt is so--black," she said, whimsically. - -"Better black than yellow," he retorted. "It looks cleaner, now, doesn't -it?" - -"Maybe you think my home a fit dwelling place for John Chinaman," pouted -Louise. - -"Yes--if that will persuade you that South Dakota is infinitely better. -Are you open to conviction?" - -"Never! I should die if I had to stay here." - -"You will be going back--soon?" - -"Some day, sure! Soon? Maybe. Oh, I wish I could. That part of me which -is like Uncle Hammond says, 'Stay.' But that other part of me which is -like the rest of us, says, 'What's the use? Go back to your kind. You're -happier there. Why should you want to be different? What does it all -amount to?' I am afraid I shall be weak enough and foolish enough to go -back and--stay." - -There was a stir in the forward part of the car. A man, hitherto sitting -quietly by the side of an alert wiry little fellow who sat next the -aisle, had attempted to bolt the car by springing over the empty seat in -front of him and making a dash for the door. It was daring, but in vain. -His companion, as agile as he, had seized him and forced him again into -his place before the rest of the passengers fully understood that the -attempt had really been made. - -"Is he crazy? Are they taking him to Yankton?" asked Louise, the pretty -color all gone from her face. "Did he think to jump off the train?" - -"That's John Yellow Wolf, a young half-breed. He's wanted up in the -Hills for cattle-rustling--United States Court case. That's Johnson with -him, Deputy United States Marshal." - -"Poor fellow," said Louise, pityingly. - -"Don't waste your sympathy on such as he. They are degenerates--many of -these half-breeds. They will swear to anything. They inherit all the -evils of the two races. Good never mixes. Yellow Wolf would swear -himself into everlasting torment for a pint of whiskey. You see my cause -of complaint? But never think, Miss Dale, that these poor chaps of -half-breeds, who are hardly responsible, are the only ones who are -willing to swear to damnable lies." There was a tang of bitterness in -his voice. "Perjury, Miss Dale, perjury through fear or bribery or -self-interest, God knows what, it is there I must break, I suppose, -until the day of judgment, unless--I run away." - -Louise, through all the working of his smart and sting, felt the quiet -reserve strength of this man beside her, and, with a quick rush of -longing to do her part, her woman's part of comforting and healing, she -put her hand, small, ungloved, on his rough coat sleeve. - -"Is that what you meant a while ago? But you don't mean it, do you? It -is bitter and you do not mean it. Tell me that you do not mean it, Mr. -Gordon, please," she said, impulsively. - -Smothering a wild impulse to keep the hand where it had lain such a -brief, palpitating while, Gordon remained silent. God only knows what -human longing he crushed down, what intense discouragement, what sick -desire to lay down his thankless task and flee to the uttermost parts of -the world to be away from the crying need he yet could not still. Then -he answered simply, "I did not mean it, Miss Dale." - -And then there did not seem to be anything to say between them for a -long while. The half-breed had settled down with stolid indifference. -People had resumed their newspapers and magazines and day dreams after -the fleeting excitement. It was very warm. Louise tried to create a -little breeze by flicking her somewhat begrimed handkerchief in front of -her face. Gordon took a newspaper from his pocket, folded it and fanned -her gently. He was not used to the little graces of life, perhaps, but -he did this well. An honest man and a kindly never goes far wrong in any -direction. - -"You must not think, Miss Dale," he said, seriously, "that it is all bad -up here. I am only selfish. I have been harping on my own little corner -of wickedness all the while. It is a good land. It will be better before -long." - -"When?" asked Louise. - -"When we convict Jesse Black and when our Indian neighbors get over -their mania for divorce," he answered, laughing softly. - -Louise laughed merrily and so the journey ended as it had begun, with a -laugh and a jest. - -In the Judge's runabout, Louise held out her hand. - -"I'm almost homesick," she cried, smiling. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE ATTACK ON THE LAZY S - - -It was late. The August night was cool and sweet after a weary day of -intense heat. The door was thrown wide open. It was good to feel the -night air creeping into the stifling room. There was no light within; -and without, nothing but the brilliant stars in the quiet, brooding sky. -Williston was sitting just within the doorway. Mary, her hands clasped -idly around her knees, sat on the doorstep, thoughtfully staring out -into the still darkness. There was a stir. - -"Bedtime, little girl," said Williston. - -"Just a minute more, daddy. Must we have a light? Think how the -mosquitoes will swarm. Let's go to bed in the dark." - -"We will shut the door and next Summer, little girl, you shall have your -screens. I promise you that, always providing, of course, Jesse Black -leaves us alone." - -Had it not been so dark, Mary could have seen the wistful smile on the -thin, scholarly face. But though she could not see it, she knew it was -there. There had been fairer hopes and more generous promises in the -past few years. They had all gone the dreary way of impotent striving, -of bitter disappointment. There was little need of light for Mary to -read her father's thoughts. - -"Sure, daddy," she answered, cheerily. "And I'll see that you don't -forget. As for Jesse Black, he wouldn't dare with the Three Bars on his -trail. Well, if you must have a light, you must," rising and stretching -her firm-fleshed young arms far over her head. "You can't forget you -were born in civilization, can you, daddy? I am sure I could be your man -in the dark, if you'd let me, and I always turn your nightshirt right -side out before hanging it on your bedpost, and your sheet and spread -are turned down, and water right at hand. You funny, funny little -father, who can't go to bed in the dark." She was rummaging around a -shelf in search of matches. "Now, I have forgotten long since that I -wasn't born on the plains. It wouldn't hurt me if I had misplaced my -nightdress. I've done it," with a gay little laugh. He must be cheered -up at all costs, this buffeted and disappointed but fine-minded, -high-strung, and lovable father of hers. "And I haven't taken my hair -down nights since--oh, since months ago, till--oh, well--so you see it's -easy enough for me to go to bed in the dark." - -Her hand touched the match box at last. A light flared out. - -"Shut the door quick, dad," she said, lighting the lamp on the table. -"The skeeters'll eat us alive." - -Williston stepped to the door. Just a moment he stood there in the -doorway, the light streaming out into the night, tall, thoughtful, no -weakling in spite of many failures and many mistakes. A fair mark he -made, outlined against the brightly lighted room. It was quiet. Not even -a coyote shrilled. And while he stood there looking up at the calm -stars, a sudden sharp report rang out and the sacred peace of God, -written in the serenity of still summer nights, was desecrated. Hissing -and ominous, the bullet sang past Williston's head, perilously near, and -lodged in the opposite wall. At that moment, the light was blown out. A -great presence of mind had come to Mary in the time of imminent danger. - -"Good, my dear!" cried Williston, in low tones. Quick as a flash, the -door was slammed shut and bolted just as a second shot fell foul of it. - -"Oh, my father!" cried Mary, groping her way to his side. - -"Hush, my dear! They missed me clean. Don't lose your nerve, Mary. They -won't find it so easy after all." - -There had been no third shot. A profound silence followed the second -report. There was no sound of horse or man. Whence, then, the shots? One -man, maybe, creeping up like some foul beast of prey to strike in the -dark. Was he still lurking near, abiding another opportunity? - -It took but a moment for Williston to have the rifles cocked and ready. -Mary took her own from him with a hand that trembled ever so slightly. - -"What will you do, father?" she asked, holding her rifle lovingly and -thanking God in a swift, unformed thought for every rattlesnake or other -noxious creature whose life she had put out while doing her man's work -of riding the range,--work which had given her not only a man's courage -but a man's skill as well. - -"Take the back window, girl," he answered, briefly. "I'll take the -front. Stand to the side. Get used to the starlight and shoot every -shadow you see, especially if it moves. Keep track of your shots, don't -waste an effort and don't let anything creep up on you. They mustn't get -near enough to fire the house." - -His voice was sharp and incisive. The drifting habit had fallen from -him, and he was his own master again. - -Several heavy minutes dragged away without movement, without sound from -without. The ticking of the clock pressed on strained ears like ghastly -bell-tolling. Their eyes became accustomed to the darkness and, by the -dim starlight, they were able to distinguish the outlines of the -cattle-sheds, still, empty, black. Nothing moved out there. - -"I think they're frightened off," said Mary at last, breathing more -freely. "They were probably just one, or they'd not have left. He knew -he missed you, or he would not have fired again. Do you think it was -Jesse?" - -"Jesse would not have missed," he said, grimly. - -At that moment, a new sound broke the stillness, the whinny of a horse. -Reinforcement had approached within the shadow of the cattle-sheds. -Something moved out there at last. - -"Daddy!" called Mary, in a choked whisper. "Come here--they are down at -the sheds." - -Williston stepped to the back window quickly. - -"Change places," he said, briefly. - -"Daddy!" - -"Yes?" - -"Keep up your nerve," she breathed between great heart-pumps. - -"Surely! Do you the same, little comrade, and shoot to kill." - -There was a savage note in his last words. For himself, it did not -matter so much, but Mary--he pinned no false faith in any thought of -possible chivalrous intent on the part of the raiders to exempt his -daughter from the grim fate that awaited him. He had to deal with a -desperate man; there would be no clemency in this desperate man's -retaliation. - -To his quickened hearing came the sound of stealthy creeping. Something -moved directly in front of him, but some distance away. "Shoot every -shadow you see, especially if it moves," were the fighting orders, and -his was the third shot of that night. - -"Hell! I've got it in the leg!" cried a rough voice full of intense -anger and pain, and there were sounds of a precipitate retreat. - -Out under protection of the long row of low-built sheds, other orders -were being tersely given and silently received. - -"Now, men, I'll shoot the first man of you who blubbers when he's hit. -D'ye hear? There have been breaks enough in this affair already. I don't -intend for that petticoat man and his pulin' petticoat kid in there to -get any satisfaction out o' this at all. Hear me?" - -There was no response. None was needed. - -Some shots found harmless lodgment in the outer walls of the shanty. -They were the result of an unavailing attempt to pick the window whence -Williston's shot had come. Mary could not keep back a little womanish -gasp of nervous dread. - -"Grip your nerve, Mary," said her father. "That's nothing--shooting from -down there. Just lie low and they can do nothing. Only watch, child, -watch! They must not creep up on us. Oh, for a moon!" - -She did grip her nerve, and her hand ceased its trembling. In the -darkness, her eyes were big and solemn. Sometime, to-morrow, the -reaction would come, but to-night-- - -"Yes, father, keep up your own nerve," she said, in a brave little voice -that made the man catch his breath in a sob. - -Again the heavy minutes dragged away. At each of the two windows -crouched a tense figure, brain alert, eyes in iron control. It was a -frightful strain, this waiting game. Could one be sure nothing had -escaped one's vigilance? Starlight was deceptive, and one's eyes must -needs shift to keep the mastery over their little horizon. It might well -be that some one of those ghostly and hidden sentinels patrolling the -lonely homestead had wormed himself past staring eyeballs, crawling, -crawling, crawling; it might well be that at any moment a sudden light -flaring up from some corner would tell the tale of the end. - -Now and then could be heard the soft thud of a hoof as some one rode to -execute an order. Occasionally, something moved out by the sheds. Such -movement, if discernible from the house, was sure to be followed on the -instant by a quick sharp remonstrance from Williston's rifle. How long -could it last? Would his nerve wear away with the night? Could he keep -his will dominant? If so, he must drag his mind resolutely away from -that nerve-racking, still, and unseen creeping, creeping, creeping, -nearer and nearer. How the stillness weighed upon him, and still his -mind dwelt upon that sinuous, flat-bellied creeping, crawling, worming! -God, it was awful! He fought it desperately. He knew he was lost if he -could not stop thinking about it. The sweat came out in big beads on his -forehead, on his body; he prickled with the heat of the effort. Then it -left him--the awful horror--left him curiously cold, but steady of nerve -and with a will of iron and eyes, cat's eyes, for their seeing in the -dark. Now that he was calm once more, he let himself weigh the chances -of succor. They were pitifully remote. The Lazy S was situated in a -lonely stretch of prairie land far from any direct trail. True, it lay -between Kemah, the county seat, and the Three Bars ranch, but it was a -good half mile from the straight route. Even so, it was a late hour for -any one to be passing by. It was not a travelled trail except for the -boys of the Three Bars, and they were known to be great home-stayers and -little given to spreeing. As for the rustlers, if rustlers they were, -they had no fear of interruption by the officers of the law, who held -their places by virtue of the insolent and arbitrary will of Jesse Black -and his brotherhood, and were now carousing in Kemah by virtue of the -hush-money put up by this same Secret Tribunal. - -Yet now that Williston's head was clear, he realized, with strengthening -confidence in the impregnability of their position, that two trusty -rifles behind barred doors are not so bad a defence after all, -especially when one took into consideration that, with the exception of -the sheds overlooking which he had chosen his position as the point of -greatest menace, and a small clump of half-grown cottonwoods by the -spring which Mary commanded from her window, there were no hiding places -to be utilized for this Indian mode of warfare. He could not know how -many desperadoes there were, but he reasoned well when he confided in -his belief that they would not readily trust themselves to the too -dangerous odds of the open space between. An open attack was not -probable. Vigilance, then, a never-lapsing vigilance that they be not -surprised, was the price of their salvation. What human power could do, -he would do, and trust Mary to do the same. She was a good girl and -true. She would do well. She had not yet shot. Surely, they would make -use of that good vantage ground of the cottonwood clump. Probably they -were even now making a detour to reach it. - -"Watch, child, watch!" he said again, without in the least shifting his -tense position. - -"Surely!" responded Mary, quite steadily. - -Now was her time come. Dark, sinister figures flitted from tree to tree. -At first, she could not be sure, it was so heartlessly dark, but there -was movement--it was different from that terrible blank quiet which she -had hitherto been gazing upon till her eyes burned and pricked as with -needle points, and visionary things swam before them. She winked rapidly -to dispel the unreal and floating things, opened wide her longlashed -lids, fixed them, and--fired. Then Williston knew that his "little girl," -his one ewe lamb, all that was left to him of a full and gracious past, -must go through what he had gone through, all that nameless horror and -expectant dread, and his heart cried out at the unholy injustice of it -all. He dared not go to her, dared not desert his post for an instant. -If one got within the shadow of the walls, all was lost. - -Mary's challenge was met with a rather hot return fire. It was probably -given to inspire the besieged with a due respect for the attackers' -numbers. Bullets pattered around the outside walls like hailstones, one -even whizzed through the window perilously near the girl's intent young -face. - -Silence came back to the night. There was no more movement. Yet down -there at the spring, something, maybe one of those dark, gaunt -cottonwoods, held death--death for her and death for her father. A stream -of icy coldness struck across her heart. She found herself calculating -in deliberation which tree it was that held this thing--death. The -biggest one, shadowing the spring, helping to keep the pool sweet and -cool where Paul Langford had galloped his horse that day when--ah! if -Paul Langford would only come now! - -A wild, girlish hope flashed up in her heart. Langford would come--had he -not sworn it to her father? Had he not given his hand as a pledge? It -means something to shake hands in the cattle country. He was big and -brave and true. When he came, these awful, creeping terrors would -disperse--grim shadows that must steal away when morning comes. When he -came, she could put her rifle in his big, confident hands, lie down on -the floor and--cry. She wanted to cry--oh, how she did want to cry! If -Paul Langford would only come, she could cry. Cold reason came back to -her aid and dissipated the weak and womanish longing to give way to -tears. There was a pathetic droop to her mouth, a long, quivering, -sobbing sigh, and she buried her woman's weakness right deeply and -stamped upon it. How utterly wild and foolish her brief hope had been! -Langford and all his men were sound in sleep long ago. How could he -know? Were the ruffians out there men to tell? Ah, no! There was no one -to know. It would all happen in the dark,--in awful loneliness, and there -would be no one to know until it was all over--to-morrow, maybe, or next -week, who could tell? They were off the main trail, few people ever -sought them out. There would be no one to know. - -As her strained sight stared out into the darkness, it was borne to her -intuitively, it may be, that something was creeping up on her. She could -see nothing and yet knew it to be true. Every fibre of her being tingled -with the certainty of it. It was coming closer and closer. She felt it -like an actual presence. Her eyes shifted here, there--swept her -half-circle searchingly--stared and stared. Still nothing moved. And yet -the nearness of some unseen thing grew more and more palpable. If she -could not see it soon, she must scream aloud. She breathed in little -quickened gasps. Soon, very soon now, she would scream. Ah! A shadow -down by the biggest cottonwood! It boldly sought a nearer and a smaller -trunk. Another slinking shadow glided behind the vacated position. It -was a ghastly presentation of "Pussy-wants-a-corner" played in -nightmare. But at last it was something tangible,--something to do away -with that frightful sensation of that crawling, creeping, twisting, -worming, insinuating--nearer and nearer, so near now that it beat upon -her--unseen presence. She pressed her finger to the trigger to shoot at -the tangible shadows and dispel that enveloping, choking, blanket -horror, when God knows what stayed the muscular action of her fingers. -Call it instinct, what you will, her hand was stayed even before her -physical eye was caught and held by a blot darker still than the night, -over to her right, farthest from the spring. It lay perfectly still. It -came to her, the wily plan, with startling clearness. The blot was -waiting for her to fire futilely at grinning shadows among the trees -and, under cover of her engrossed attention, insinuate its treacherous -body the farther forward. Then the play would go merrily on till--the -end. She turned the barrel of her rifle slowly and deliberately away -from the moving shapes among the cottonwood clump, sighted truly the -motionless blur to her right, and fired, once, twice, three times. - -The completeness of the surprise seemed to inspire the attackers with a -hellish fury. They returned the fire rapidly and at will, remaining -under cover the while. Shrinking low at her window, her eyes glued on -the still black mass out yonder, Mary wondered if it were dead. She -prayed passionately that it might be, and yet--it is a dreadful thing to -kill. Once more the wild firing ceased. Mary responded once or twice -just to keep the deadly chill from returning--if that were possible. - -Under cover of the desperadoes' fire, at obtuse angles with the first -attempt, a second blot began its tortuous twisting. It accomplished a -space, stopped; pulled itself its length, stopped, waited, watchful eyes -on the window whence came Mary's scattered firing still into the clump -of trees. They had drawn her close regard at last. Would it hold out? -Forward again, crawling flat on the ground, ever advancing, slowly, very -slowly, but also very surely, creeping, creeping, creeping, now -stopping, now creeping, stopping, creeping. - -All at once the gun play began again, sharp, quick, from the spring, -from the sheds. The blot lay perfectly still for a moment--waiting, -watching. The plucky little rifle was silent. But so it had been before. -Quarter length, half, whole length, cautiously with frequent stops, eyes -so steely, so intent--could it be possible that this gun was really -silenced--out of the race? It would not do to trust too much. The blot -waited, scarcely breathed, crept forward again. - -A sudden bright light flashed up through the darkness under the -unprotected wall to Mary's left. Almost simultaneously a kindred light -sprang into being from the region of the cattle-sheds. The men down -there had been waiting for this signal. It meant that for some reason -the second effort to creep up unobserved to fire the house had been -successful. The flare grew and spread. It became a glare. - -When the whole cabin seemed to be in flames save the door,--the dry, rude -boarding had caught and burned like paper,--when the heat had become -unbearable, Williston held out his hand to his daughter, silently. As -silently she put her hand, her left hand, in his; nor did Williston -notice that it was her left, nor how limply her right arm hung to her -side. In the glare, her face shone colorless, but her dark eyes were -stars. Her head was held high. With firm step, Williston advanced to the -door. Deliberately he unbarred it, as deliberately threw it open, and -stepped over the threshold. They were covered on the instant by four -rifles. - -"Drop your guns!" called the chief, roughly. Then the desperadoes moved -up. - -"I take it that I am the one wanted," said Williston. - -His voice was calm and scholarly once more. In the uselessness of -further struggle, it had lost the sharp incisiveness that had been the -call to action. If one must die, it is good to die after a brave fight. -One is never a coward then. Williston's face wore an almost exalted -look. - -"My daughter is free to go?" he asked, his first words having met with -no response. Better, much better, for the make of a man like Williston -to die in the dignity of silence, but for Mary's sake he parleyed. - -"I guess not!" responded the leader, curtly. "If a pulin' idiot hadn't -missed the broadside of you--as pretty a mark this side heaven as man -could want,--then we might talk about the girl. She's showed up too -damned much like a man now to let her loose." - -His big, shuffling form lounged in his saddle. He raised his rifle with -every appearance of lazy indifference. They were to be shot down where -they stood, now, right on the threshold of their burning homestead. - -Williston bowed his head to the inevitable for a moment; then raised it -proudly to meet the inevitable. - -A rifle shot rang out startlingly clear. At the very moment the leader's -hawk's eye had swept the sight, his rifle arm had twitched uncertainly, -then fallen nerveless to his side, while his bullet, playing a faltering -and discordant second to the first true shot, tore up the ground in -front of him and swerved harmlessly to one side. Instantly the wildest -confusion reigned,--shouts, curses, the plunging of horses mingled with -the sharp crack of fire-arms. The shooting was wild. The surprise was -too complete for the outlaws to recover at once. They had heard no sound -of approaching hoofbeats. The roaring flames licking up the dry lumber, -and rendering the surrounding darkness the blacker for the contrast, had -been of saving grace to the besiegers after all. - -In a moment, the desperadoes rallied. They closed in and imposed a -cursing, malignant wall between the rescuers and the blazing door of the -shanty and what stood and lay before it. Mary had sunk down at her -father's feet, and had no cognizance of the fierce though brief conflict -that ensued. - -Presently, she was dragged roughly to her feet. A big, muscular arm had -heavy grasp of her. - -"Make sure of the girl, Red!" commanded a sharp voice near, and it was -gone out into the night. - -Afterward, she heard--oh, many, many times in the night watches--the eerie -galloping of horses' hoofs, growing fainter and ever fainter, heard it -above the medley of trampling horses and yelling men, and knew it for -what it meant; but to-night--this evil night--she gave but one quick, -bewildered glance into the sinister face above her and in a soft, -shuddering voice breathed, "Please don't," and fainted. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -IN WHICH THE X Y Z FIGURES SOMEWHAT MYSTERIOUSLY - - -Jim Munson, riding his pony over the home trail at a slow walk, drooped -sleepily in his saddle. It was not a weirdly late bedtime, half-past -ten, maybe, but he would have been sleeping soundly a good hour or more -had this not been his night to go to town--if he chose. He had chosen. He -would not have missed his chance for a good deal. But his dissipation -had been light. The Boss never tolerated much along that line. He had -drunk with some congenial cronies from the Circle E outfit complimentary -to the future well-being and increasing wealth of this already -well-known and flourishing cattle ranch. Of course he must drink a -return compliment to the same rose-colored prosperity for the Three -Bars, which he did and sighed for more. That made two, and two were the -limit, and here was the limit overreached already; for there had always -to be a last little comforter to keep him from nodding in his saddle. - -Before the time arrived for that, there were some errands to be executed -for the boys on duty at the home ranch. These necessitated a call at the -post-office, the purchase of several slabs of plug tobacco, some -corn-cob pipes, and some writing material for Kin Lathrop. He must not -forget the baking powder for the cook. Woe to him, Munson, if there were -no biscuits for breakfast. Meanwhile he must not neglect to gather what -little news was going. That would be a crime as heinous as the -forgetting of the baking powder. But there didn't seem to be anything -doing to-night. Only the sheriff was playing again behind the curtain. -Couldn't fool him. Damned hypocrite! - -The errands accomplished to his satisfaction and nothing forgotten, as -frequent and close inspection of the list written out by the Scribe -proved, his comforter swallowed, lingeringly, and regretfully, he was -now riding homeward, drowsy but vastly contented with the world in -general and particularly with his own lot therein. It was a sleepy -night, cool and soft and still. He could walk his horse all the way if -he wanted to. There was no haste. The boys would all be in bed. They -would not even wait up for the mail, knowing his, Jim's, innate aversion -to hurry. Had he not been so drowsy, he would like to have sung a bit; -but it required a little too much effort. He would just plod along. - -Must all be in bed at Williston's--no light anywhere. A little short of -where the Williston branch left the main trail, he half paused. If it -were not so late, he would ride up and give them a hail. But of course -they were asleep. Everything seemed still and dark about the premises. -He would just plod along. - -"Hello, there! Where'd you come from?" he cried of a sudden, and before -he had had time to carry his resolve into action. - -A man on horseback had drawn rein directly in front of him. Jim blinked -with the suddenness of the shock. - -"Might ask you the same question," responded the other with an easy -laugh. "I'm for town to see the doctor about my little girl. Been puny -for a week." - -"Oh! Where you from?" asked Jim, with the courteous interest of his -kind. - -"New man on the X Y Z," answered the other, lightly. "Must be gettin' -on. Worried about my baby girl." - -He touched spurs to his horse and was off with a friendly "So long," -over his shoulder. - -Jim rode on thoughtfully. - -"Now don't it beat the devil," he was thinking, "how that there -cow-puncher struck this trail comin' from the X Y Z--with the X Y Z clean -t'other side o' town? Yep, it beats the devil, for a fac'. He must be a -ridin' for his health. It beats the devil." This last was long drawn -out. He rode a little farther. "It beats the devil," he thought -again,--the wonder of it was waking him up,--"how that blamed fool could -a' struck this here trail a goin' for Doc." - -At the branch road he stopped irresolutely. - -"It beats the devil--for a fac'." He looked helplessly over his shoulder. -The man was beyond sight and sound. "If he hadn't said he was goin' for -Doc and belonged to the X Y Z," he pondered. He was swearing because he -could not think of a way out of the maze of contradiction. He was so -seldom at a loss, this braggadocio Jim. "Well, I reckon I won't get any -he'p a moonin' here less'n I wait here till that son-of-a-gun comes back -from seein' Doc. Lord, I'd have to camp out all night. Guess I'll be a -movin' on. But I'm plumb a-foot for an idee as to how that idjit got -here from the X Y Z." - -He shrugged his shoulders and picked up the fallen bridle-rein. He kept -on straight ahead, and it was well for him that he did so. It was not -the last of the affair. The old, prosaic trail seemed fairly bristling -with ghostly visitants that night. He had gone but a scant quarter-mile -when he met with a second horseman, and this time he would have sworn on -oath that the man had not been on the forward trail as long as he should -have been to be seen in the starlight. Jim was not dozing now and he -knew what he was about. The fellow struck the trail from across country -and from the direction of Williston's home cattle sheds. - -"The devil!" he muttered, and this time he was in deep and terrible -earnest. - -"Hullo!" the fellow accosted him, genially. - -"Too damned pleasant--the whole bunch of em," found quick lodgment in -Jim's active brain. Aloud, he responded with answering good-nature, -"Hullo!" - -"Where ye goin'?" asked the other, as if in no particular haste to part -company. If he had met with a surprise, he carried it off well. - -"Home. Been to town." Jim was on tenter hooks to be off. - -"Belong to the Three Bars, don't you?" - -"Yep." - -"Thought so. Well, good luck to you." - -"Say," said Jim, suddenly, "you don't happen to hang out at the X Y Z, -do you?" - -"Naw! What d'ye suppose I'd be doing here this time of night if I did?" -There was scorn in his voice and suspicion, too. "Why?" he asked. - -"Oh, nothin'. Thought I knew your build, but I guess I was mistaken. So -long." - -He had an itching desire to ask if this night traveller, too, was in -quest of the doctor, but caution held him silent. He had need to proceed -warily. He rode briskly along until he judged he had gone far enough to -allay suspicion, then he halted suddenly. Very wide-awake was Jim now. -His hand rested unconsciously on the Colt's 45, protruding from his -loosely hanging belt. His impulse was to ride boldly back and up to -Williston's door, and thus satisfy himself as to what was doing so -mysteriously. There was not a cowardly drop in Jim's circulation. But if -foul play was abroad for Williston that night, he, Jim, of course, was -spotted and would never be permitted to reach the house. It would mean a -useless sacrifice. Now, he needed to be alive. There was a crying need -for his good and active service. Afterwards--well, it was all in the -day's work. It wouldn't so much matter then. He touched spurs lightly, -bent his head against the friction of the air and urged his horse to the -maddest, wildest race he had ever run since that day long ago, to be -forgotten by neither, when he had been broken to his master's will. - - * * * * * - -Paul Langford dropped one shoe nervelessly to the wolfskin in front of -his bed. Though his bachelor room was plain in most respects, plain for -the better convenience of the bachelor hands that had it to put to -rights every day,--with the exception of a cook, Langford kept no -servant,--the wolfskin here, an Indian blanket thrown over a stiff chair -by the table, a Japanese screen concealing the ugly little sheet-iron -stove that stood over in its corner all the year round, gave evidence -that his tastes were really luxurious. An oil lamp was burning dimly on -the table. The soot of many burnings adhered to the chimney's inner -side. - -"One would know it was Jim's week by looking at that chimney," muttered -the Boss, eyeing the offending chimney discontentedly as he dropped the -other shoe. "He seems to have an inborn aversion to cleaning chimneys. -It must be a birthmark, or maybe he was too anxious to get to town -to-night. I see I'll have to discipline Jim. I have to stop and think -even now, sometimes, who's boss of this shebang, he or I. Sometimes I'm -inclined to the opinion that he is. Come to think of it, though," -whimsically, "I lean to a vague misgiving that I didn't touch that -low-down chimney myself last week. We're kind of an ornery set, I'm -thinking, every mother's son of us--and I'm the worst of the lot. -Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be better for the bunch of us, if one -of the boys were to marry and bring his girl to the Three Bars. But I'll -be hanged if I know which one I'd care to give up to the feminine -gender. Besides, she'd be bossy--they all are--and she'd wear blue calico -wrappers in the morning--they all do." - -He began pacing the floor in his stocking feet. - -"Wish I could get that blamed little girl of Williston's out of my head -to-night. Positively red-headed. Well, call it auburn for the sake of -politeness. What's the difference? She's a winner, though. Wonder why I -didn't know about her before? Wonder if Dick's in love with her? -Shouldn't wonder. He's plumb daffy on the subject of the old man. Never -thought of that before. Or maybe it's Jim. No, she's not his kind." He -stopped for a moment at the open window and looked out into the still, -starry night "Guess I'll have to let the Scribe commit matrimony, if -he's 'willin'.' He's the only one of the bunch--fit." - -The sound of galloping hoof-beats on the hard road below came up to him -as he stood at the window. A solitary horseman was coming that way and -he was putting his horse to the limit, too. - -"Who the--deuce," began Langford. "It's Jim's cow pony as sure as I'm a -sinner! What brings him home at that pace, I wonder? Is he drunk?" - -He peered out indifferently. The hoof-beats rang nearer and nearer, -clattered through the stable yards and, before they ceased, two or three -revolver shots rang out in rapid succession. Jim had fired into the air -to arouse the house. - -Springing from his reeking bronco, he ran quickly to the stable and -threw wide the door. Here the Boss, the first to gain the outside -because already dressed, found him hastily saddling a fresh mount. -Langford asked no question. That would come later. He stepped silently -to Sade's stall. - -In an incredibly short space of time the rest of the boys came leaping -out of the ranchhouse, slamming the door behind them. To be up and doing -was the meat they fed upon. In less than ten minutes they were all -mounted and ready, five of them, silent, full to the brim of reckless -hardihood, prime for any adventure that would serve to break the -monotony of their lives. More than that, every fibre of their being, -when touched, would respond, a tuneful, sounding string of loyalty to -the traditions of the Three Bars and to its young master. Each was fully -armed. They asked no question. Yet there could be no doubt of a surprise -when the time came for action. They were always prepared, these boys of -the most popular ranch outfit west of the river. Right in the face of -this popularity, perhaps because of it, they were a bit overbearing, -these boys, and held fellowship with any outside the Three Bars a thing -not to be lightly entered into. It was a fine thing to work for the -Boss, and out of the content accruing therefrom sprang a conservatism -like that of the proudest aristocrat of the land. - -Langford took the trail first. Jim had said but the one word, -"Williston." It was enough. Nothing was to be heard but the rapid though -regular pound of hoof-beats on the level trail. It is a silent country, -the cow country, and its gravity begets gravity. - -Langford, riding slightly in advance, was having a bad time with -himself. The keenest self-reproach was stabbing him like a physical -pain. His honor--his good honor, that he held so high and stainless--was -his word not given by it that the Willistons might count on his sure -protection? What had he done to merit this proud boast? Knowing that -Jesse Black was once more at liberty, fully realizing of what vast -import to the State would be Williston's testimony when the rustlers -should be brought to trial, he had sat stupidly back and done nothing. -And he had promised. Would Williston have had the courage without that -promise? Why were not some of his cowboys even now sleeping with an eye -upon that little claim shack where lived that scholar-man who was not -fit for the rough life of the plains, maybe, but who had been brave -enough and high-minded enough to lay his all on the white altar of -telling what he knew for right's sake. And the girl-- - -"God! The girl!" he cried aloud. - -"What did you say, Boss?" asked Jim, pounding alongside. - -"Nothing!" said Langford, curtly. - -He spurred his mare savagely. In the shock of the surprise, and the -sting that his neglected word brought him, he had forgotten the -girl--Williston's "little girl" with the grave eyes--the girl who was not -ten but twenty and more--the girl who had waited for him, whom he had -sent on her long way alone, joyously, as one free of a duty that -promised to be irksome--the girl who had brought the blood to his face -when, ashamed, he had galloped off to the spring--the girl who had closed -her door when a man's curious eyes had roved that way. How could he -forget? - -The little cavalcade swept on with increased speed, following the lead -of the master. Soon the sound of shooting was borne to them distinctly -through the quiet night. - -"Thank God, boys!" cried Langford, digging in his spurs, once more. -"They are not surprised! Listen! God! What a plucky fight! If they can -only hold out!" - -At that moment a tiny tongue of flame leaped up away to the front of -them, gleaming in the darkness like a beacon light. Now there were -two--they grew, spread, leaped heavenward in mad revel. Langford's heart -sank like lead. He groaned in an exceeding bitterness of spirit. The -worst had happened. Would they be in time? These claim shanties burn -like paper. And the girl! He doubted not that she had sustained her -share of the good fight. She had fought like a man, she must die like a -man,--would be the outlaw's reasoning. He believed she would die like a -man--if that meant bravely,--but something clutched at his heart-strings -with the thought. Her big, solemn eyes came back to him now as they had -looked when she had lifted them to him gravely as he sat his horse and -she had said she had waited for him. Was she waiting now? - -The boys rallied to the new impetus gloriously. They knew now what it -meant and their hardy hearts thrilled to the excitement of it, and the -danger. They swept from the main trail into the dimmer one leading to -Williston's, without diminution of speed. Presently, the Boss drew rein -with a suddenness that would have played havoc with the equilibrium of -less seasoned horsemen than cowboys. They followed with the precision -and accord of trained cavalrymen. Now and then could be seen a black, -sinister figure patrolling the burning homestead, but hugging closely -the outer skirt of darkness, waiting for the doomed door to open. - -"Boys!" began Langford. But he never gave the intended command to charge -at once with wild shouting and shooting to frighten away the marauders -and give warning to the besieged that rescue was at hand. For at that -moment the door opened, and Williston and his daughter stepped out in -full view of raider and rescuer. Would there be parley? A man, slouching -in his saddle, rode up into the circle of lurid light. Was it Jesse -Black? There was something hauntingly familiar about the droop of the -shoulders. That was all; hardly enough to hang a man. - -Langford raised his rifle quickly. His nerves were perfectly steady. His -sight was never truer. His bullet went straight to the rifle arm of the -outlaw; with a ringing shout he rallied his comrades, spurred his pony -forward, and the little party charged the astounded raiders with a fury -of shots that made each rustler stand well to his own support, leaving -the Willistons, for the time being, free from their attention. - -The desperadoes were on the run. They cared to take no risk of -identification. It was not easy to determine how many there were. There -seemed a half-dozen or more, but probably four or five at the most would -tell their number. - -The flames were sinking. Williston had disappeared. The boys scattered -in wild pursuit. Wheeling his horse, Langford was in time to see a big, -muscular fellow swing a girlish form to the saddle in front of him. -Quick as a flash he spurred forward, lifted his heavy Colt's revolver -high over his head and brought it down on the fellow's skull with a -force that knocked him senseless without time for a sigh or moan. As his -arms fell lax and he toppled in his saddle, Langford caught the girl and -swung her free of entanglement. - -"Poor little girl," he breathed over her as her white face dropped with -unconscious pathos against his big shoulder. "Poor little girl--I'm -sorry--I didn't mean to--honest--I'm sorry." He chafed her hands gently. -"And I don't know where your father is, either. Are you hurt anywhere, -or have you only fainted? God knows I don't wonder. It was hellish. Why, -child, child, your arm! It is broken! Oh, little girl, I didn't mean -to--honest--honest. I'm sorry." - -Jim rode up panting, eyes blood-shot. - -"We can't find him, Boss. They've carried him off, dead or alive." - -"Is it so, Jim? Are you sure? How far did you follow?" - -"We must have followed the wrong lead. If any one was ridin' double, it -wasn't the ones we was after, that's one thing sure. The blamed hoss -thieves pulled clean away from us. Our hosses were plumb winded anyway. -And--there's a deader out there, Boss," lowering his voice; "I found him -as I came back." - -"That explains why no one was riding double," said Langford, -thoughtfully. - -"How's the gal, Boss?" - -"I don't know, Jim. I--don't know what to do now." - -His eyes were full of trouble. - -"Ain't no use cryin' over spilt milk and that's a fac'. 'Bout as -sensible as a tryin' to pick it up after it is spilt. We won't find -Williston this here night, that's one thing sure. So we'll just tote the -little gal home to the Three Bars with us." - -The boys were returning, silent, gloomy, disconsolate. They eyed the -Boss tentatively. Would they receive praise or censure? They had worked -hard. - -"You're all right, boys," said Langford, smiling away their gloom. "But -about the girl. There is no woman at the Three Bars, you know--" - -"So you'd leave her out all night to the dew and the coyotes and the -hoss thieves, would you," interrupted Jim, with a fine sarcasm, "jest -because there ain't no growed-up woman at the Three Bars? What d'ye -think Williston's little gal'd care for style? She ain't afraid o' us -ol' grizzled fellers. I hope to the Lord there won't never be no -growed-up woman at the Three Bars,--yep, that's what I hope. I think that -mouse-haired gal reporter'd be just tumble fussy, and I think she's a -goin' to marry a down Easterner chap, anyway." - -"Just pick up that fellow, will you, boys, and strap him to his horse, -and we'll take him along," said Langford. "I don't believe he's dead." - -"What fellow?" asked the Scribe, peering casually about. - -Langford had unconsciously ridden forward a bit to meet the boys as they -had clattered up shamefacedly. Now he turned. - -"Why, that fellow over there. I knocked him out." - -He rode back slowly. There was no man there, nor the trace of a man. -They stared at each other a moment, silently. Then Langford spoke. - -"No, I am not going to leave Williston's little girl out in the dew," he -said, with an inscrutable smile. "While some of you ride in to get some -one to see about that body out there and bring out the doctor, I'll take -her over to White's for to-night, anyway. Mrs. White will care for her. -Then perhaps we will send for the 'gal reporter,' Jim." - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -"YOU ARE--THE BOSS" - - -She held out her left hand with a sad little smile. "It is good of you -to come so soon," she said, simply. - -She had begged so earnestly to sit up that Mrs. White had improvised an -invalid's chair out of a huge old rocker and a cracker box. It did very -well. Then she had partially clothed the girl in a skimpy wrapper of the -sort Langford abominated, throwing a man's silk handkerchief where the -wrapper failed to meet, and around the injured arm. Mrs. White had then -recalled her husband from the stables where he was on the point of -mounting to join the relief party that was to set off in search of -Williston at ten o'clock. The starting point unanimously agreed upon was -to be the pitiful remnants of Williston's home. Men shook their heads -dubiously whenever the question of a possible leading trail was -broached. The soil was hard and dry from an almost rainless July and -August. The fugitives might strike across country anywhere with meagre -chances of their trail being traced by any. - -Mrs. White and her husband, kindly souls both, lifted the girl as gently -as might be from the bed to the rudely constructed invalid's chair by -the sitting-room window. Then they had left her--the woman to putter -around her kitchen, the man to make good his appointment. But the -exertion had been too much for Mary. She had counted on strength that -she did not possess. Where had she lost it all? she wondered, lacking -comprehension of her exceeding weakness. To be sure, her arm alternately -ached and smarted, but one's arm was really such a small part of one, -and she had been so strong--always. She tried to shake off the faintness -creeping over her. It was effort thrown away. She lay back on her -pillow, very white and worn, her pretty hair tangled and loosened from -its coils. - -Paul came. He was dusty and travel-stained. He had been almost -continuously in his saddle since near midnight of the night before. He -was here, big, strong, and worthy. Mary did not cry, but she remembered -how she had wanted to a few hours ago and she wondered that she could -not now. Strangely enough, it was Paul who wanted to cry now--but he -didn't. He only swallowed hard and held her poor hand with all -gentleness, afraid to let go lest he also let go his mastery over the -almost insurmountable lump in his throat. - -"I tried to come sooner," he said, huskily, at last, releasing her hand -and standing before her. "But I've been riding all over--for men, you -know,--and I had a talk with Gordon, too. It took time. He is coming out -to see you this afternoon. He is coming with Doc. Don't you think you -had better go back to bed now? You are so--so white. Let me carry you -back to bed before I go." - -"Are you going, too?" asked Mary, looking at him with wide eyes of -gratitude. - -"Surely," he responded, quickly. "Did you think I wouldn't?" - -"I--I--didn't know. I thought--there were a lot going--there would be -enough without you. But--I am glad. If you go, it will be all right. -You will find him if any one can." - -"Won't you let me carry you back to bed till Doc comes?" said Langford, -brokenly. - -"I could not bear it in bed," she said, clearly. Her brown eyes were -beginning to shine with fever, and red spots had broken out in her pale -cheeks. "If you make me go, I shall die. I hear it all the time when I -am lying down--galloping, galloping, galloping. They never stop. They -always begin all over again." - -"What galloping, little girl?" asked Langford, soothingly. He saw she -was becoming delirious. If Doc and Dick would only come before he had to -go. But they were not coming until after dinner. He gazed down the dusty -road. They would wait for him, the others. He was their leader by the -natural-born right of push and energy, as well as by his having been the -sole participant, with his own cowboys, in the last night's tragedy. But -would he do well to keep them waiting? They had already delayed too -long. And yet how could he leave Williston's little girl like this--even -to find Williston? - -"They are carrying my father away," she said, with startling -distinctness. "Don't you hear them? If you would listen, you could hear -them. Do listen! They are getting faint now--you can hardly hear them. -They are fainter--fainter--fainter--" - -She had raised her head. There was an alert look on her face. She leaned -slightly toward the window. - -"Good God! A man can't stand everything!" cried Langford, hoarsely. He -tore the knotted handkerchief from his throat. It was as if he was -choking. Then he put his cool, strong hand to her burning forehead and -gently smoothed back the rough hair. Gradually, the fixed look of an -indescribable horror passed away from her face. The strained, hard eyes -softened, became dewy. She looked at him, a clinging helplessness in her -eyes, but sweet and sane. - -"Don't you worry, child," he said, comfortingly. "They can't help -finding him. Twenty men with the sheriff start on the trail. There'll be -fifty before night. They can't help finding him. I'm going to stay right -here with you till Doc comes. I'll catch up with them before they've -gone far. I'll send word to the boys not to wait. Must be somebody -around the house, I reckon, besides the old lady." - -He started cheerily for the door. - -"Mr. Langford!" - -"Yes?" - -"Please come back." - -He came quickly to her. - -"What is it?" - -"Mr. Langford, will you grant me a favor?" - -"Certainly, Miss Mary. Anything in this world that I can do for you, I -will do. You know that, don't you?" - -"I am all right now. I don't think I shall get crazy again if you will -let me sit here by this window and look out. If I can watch for him, it -will give me something to do. You see, I could be watching all the time -for the party to come back over that little rise up the road. I want you -to promise me," she went on, steadily, "that I may sit here and wait for -you--to come back." - -"God knows you may, little girl, anyway till Doc comes." - -"You are wiser than Doc," pursued the girl. "He is a good fellow, but -foolish, you know, sometimes. He might not understand. He might like to -use authority over me because I am his patient--when he did not -understand. Promise that I may sit up till you come back." - -"I do promise, little girl. Tell him I said so. Tell him--" - -"I will tell him you are--the Boss," she said, with a pitiful little -attempt at a jest, and smiling wanly. "He will mind--the Boss." - -Langford was in agony. Perspiration was springing out on his forehead -though August was wearing away peacefully in soft coolness with drifting -depths of white cloud as a lounging-robe,--a blessed reprieve from the -blazing sun of the long weeks which had gone before. - -"And then I want you to promise me," went on Mary, quietly, "that you -will not think any more of staying behind. I could not bear that. I -trust you to go. You will, won't you?" - -"Yes, I will go. I will do anything you say. And I want you to believe -that everything will be all right. They would not dare to kill him now, -knowing that we are after them. If we are not back to-night, you will -not worry, will you? They had so much the start of us." - -"I will try not to worry." - -"Well, good-bye. Be a good girl, won't you?" - -"I will try," she answered, wearily. - -With a last look into the brave, sweet face, and smothering a mad, -uncowman-like desire to stay and comfort this dear little woman while -others rode away in stirring quest, Langford strode from the sick-room -into the kitchen. - -"Don't let her be alone any more than you can help, Mother White," he -said, brusquely, "and don't worry her about going to bed." - -"Have a bite afore you start, Mr. Langford, do," urged the good woman, -hospitably. "You're that worn out you're white around the gills. I'll -bet you haven't had ary bite o' breakfast." - -"I had forgotten--but you are right. No, thank you, I'll not stop for -anything now. I'll have to ride like Kingdom come. I'm late. Be good to -her, Mother White," this last over his shoulder as he sprang to his -mount from the kitchen stoop. - -The long day wore along. Mother White was baking. The men would be -ravenous when they came back. Many would stop there for something to eat -before going on to their homes. It might be to-night, it might be -to-morrow, it might not be until the day after, but whenever the time -did come, knowing the men of the range country, she must have something -"by her." The pleasant fragrance of new bread just from the oven, mixed -with the faint, spicy odor of cinnamon rolls, floated into the cheerless -sitting-room. Mary, idly watching Mother White through the open door as -she bustled about in a wholesome-looking blue-checked gingham apron, -longed with a childish intensity to be out where there were human warmth -and companionship. It was such a weary struggle to keep cobwebs out of -her head in that lonely, carpetless sitting-room, and to keep the pipe -that reared itself above the squat stove, from changing into a -cottonwood tree. Some calamity seemed to hover over her all the time. -She was about to grasp the terrible truth,--she knew she must look -around. Now some one was creeping toward her from under the bed. Unless -she stared it out of countenance, something awful would surely come to -pass. - -Mother White came to the door from time to time to ask her how she was, -with floury hands, and stove smutch on her plump cheek. She never failed -to break the evil spell. But Mary was weak, and Mrs. White on one of her -periodical pauses at the door found her sobbing in pitiful -self-abandonment. She went to her quickly, her face full of concern. - -"My dear, my dear," she cried, anxiously, "what is it? Tell me. Mr. -Langford will never forgive me. I didn't mean to neglect you, child. -It's only that I'm plumb a-foot for time. Tell me what ails you--that's a -dearie." - -Mary laid her head on the motherly shoulder and cried quietly for a -while. Then she looked up with the faintest ghost of a smile. - -"I'm ashamed to tell you, Mother White," she half whispered. "It -is--only--that I was afraid you hadn't put enough cinnamon in the rolls. I -like cinnamon rolls." - -"Lord love the child!" gasped Mrs. White, but without the least -inclination to laugh. "Why, I lit'rally buried 'em in cinnamon. I -couldn't afford not to. If I do say it who shouldn't, my rolls is pretty -well known in Kemah County. The boys wouldn't stand for no economizin' -in spice. No, sirree." - -She hastened wonderingly back to her kitchen, only to return with a -heaped-up plate of sweet-smelling rolls. - -"Here you are, honey, and they wont hurt you a mite. I can't think what -keeps that fool Doc." She was getting worried. It was nearly four and he -was not even in sight. - -Now that she had them, Mary did not want the rolls. She felt they would -choke her. She waited until her kindly neighbor had trotted back to her -household cares, and pushed the plate away. She turned to her window -with an exaggerated feeling of relief. It was hard to watch ceaselessly -for some one to top that little rise out yonder and yet for no one ever -to do it. But there were compensations. It is really better sometimes -not to see things than to see--some things. And it was easier to keep her -head clear when she was watching the road. - -A younger White, an over-grown lad of twelve, came in from far afield. -He carried a shot-gun in one hand and a gunny-sack thrown over his -shoulder. He slouched up and deposited the contents of the bag in front -of Mary's window with a bashful, but sociable grin. Mary nodded -approvingly, and the boy was soon absorbed in dressing the fowls. What a -feast there would be that night if the men got back! - -At last came the doctor and Gordon, driving up in the doctor's -top-buggy, weather-stained, mud-bedaubed with the mud of last Spring, of -many Springs. The doctor was a badly dressed, pleasant-eyed man, past -middle age, with a fringe of gray whiskers. He was a sort of journeyman -doctor, and he had drifted hither one day two Summers ago from the Lake -Andes country in this selfsame travel-worn conveyance with its same bony -sorrel. He had found good picking, he had often jovially remarked since, -chewing serenely away on a brand of vile plug the while. He had elected -to remain. He was part and parcel of the cattle country now. He was an -established condition. People had learned to accept him as he was and be -grateful. Haste was a mental and physical impossibility to him. He took -his own time. All must perforce acquiesce. - -But as he took Mary's wrist between well-shaped fingers disfigured with -long, black nails, he had not been able as yet to readjust himself to -old conditions after last night's grewsome experience. He was still -walking in a maze. He occasionally even forgot the automatic movement of -his jaws. Ah, little doctor, something untoward must have happened to -cause you to forget that! What that something was he was thinking about -now, and that was what made his blue eyes twinkle so merrily. - -Last night,--was it only last night?--oh, way, way in the night, when -ghosts and goblins stalked abroad and all good people were safely housed -and deeply asleep, there had come a goblin to his door in the hotel, and -cried for admittance with devilish persistence and wealth of language. -When he, the doctor, had desired information as to the needs of his -untimely visitant, the shoulders of some prehistoric giant had been put -to the door, and it had fallen open as to the touch of magic. A dazzling -and nether-world light had flamed up in his room, and this -Hercules-goblin with lock-destroying tendencies had commanded him to -clothe himself, with such insistency that the mantle of nimbleness had -descended upon all the little doctor's movements. That this marvellous -agility was the result, pure and simple, of black arts, was shown by the -fact that the little doctor was in a daze all the rest of the night. He -did not even make show of undue astonishment or nervousness when, -clothed in some wonderful and haphazard fashion, he was escorted through -the dimly lit hall, down the dark stairway, past the office where a -night-lamp burned dully, out into the cool night air and into the -yawning depths of a mysterious vehicle which rattled with a suspiciously -familiar rattle when it suddenly plunged into what seemed like -everlasting darkness ahead. He had felt a trifle more like himself after -he had unconsciously rammed his hand through the rent in the cushion -where the hair stuffing was coming out. But he had not been permitted -the reins, so he could not be sure if they were tied together with a -piece of old suspender or not; and if that was Old Sorrel, he certainly -had powers of speed hitherto unsuspected. - -Witchcraft? Ay! Had not he, the little doctor, heard ghostly hoof-beats -alongside all the way? It had been nerve-racking. Sometimes he had -thought it might just be a cow pony, but he could not be sure; and when -he had been tossed profanely and with no dignity into the house of one -White, homesteader, with the enigmatical words, "There, damn ye, Doc! I -reckon ye got a move on once in your life, anyway," the voice had -sounded uncannily like that of one Jim Munson, cow-puncher; but that was -doubtless a hallucination of his, brought about by the unusualness of -the night's adventures. - -"You have worked yourself into a high fever, Miss Williston, that's what -you've done," he said, with professional mournfulness. - -"I know it," she smiled, wanly. "I couldn't help it. I'm sorry." - -Gordon drew up a chair and sat down by her, saying with grave kindness, -"You are fretting. We must not let you. I am going to stay with you all -night and shoo the goblins away." - -"You are kind," said Mary, gratefully. "May I tell you when they come? -If some one speaks to me, they go away." - -"Indeed you may, dear child," he exclaimed, heartily. He had been half -joking when he spoke of keeping things away. He now perceived that these -things were more serious than he knew. - -The doctor administered medicine to reduce the fever, dressed the -wounded arm, with Gordon's ready assistance, and then called in Mother -White to prepare the bed for his patient; but he paused nonplussed -before the weight of entreaty in Mary's eyes and voice. - -"Please don't," she cried out, in actual terror. "Oh, Mr. Gordon, don't -let him! I see such awful things when I lie down. Please! Please! And -Mr. Langford said I might sit up till he came. Mr. Gordon, you will not -let him put me to bed, will you?" - -"I think it will be better to let her have her way, Lockhart," said -Gordon, in a low voice. - -"Mebbe it would, Dick," said the doctor, with surprising meekness. - -"I'll stay all night and I'll take good care of her, Lockhart. There's -Mother White beckoning to supper. You'll eat before you go? No, I won't -take any supper now, thank you, mother, I will stay with Mary." - -And he did stay with her all through the long watches of that long -night. He never closed his eyes in sleep. Sometimes, Mary would drop off -into uneasy slumber--always of short duration. When she awakened suddenly -in wide-eyed fright, he soothed her with all tenderness. Sometimes when -he thought she was sleeping, she would clutch his arm desperately and -cry out that there was some one behind the big cottonwood. Again it -would be to ask him in a terrified whisper if he did not hear -hoof-beats, galloping, galloping, galloping, and begged him to listen. -He could always quiet her, and she tried hard to keep from wandering; -but after a short, broken rest, she would cry out again in endless -repetition of the terrors of that awful night. - -Mrs. White and several of her small progeny breathed loudly from an -adjoining room. A lamp burned dimly on the table. It grew late--twelve -o'clock and after. At last she rested. She passed from light, broken -slumber to deep sleep without crying out and thus awakening herself. -Gordon was tired and sad. Now that the flush of fever was gone, he saw -how white and miserable she really looked. The circles under her eyes -were so dark they were like bruises. The mantle of his misfortune was -spreading to bring others besides himself into its sombre folds. - -The men were coming back. But they were coming quietly, in grim silence. -He dared not awaken Mary for the news he knew they must carry. He -stepped noiselessly to the door to warn them to a yet greater stillness, -and met Langford on the threshold. - -The two surveyed each other gravely with clasped hands. - -"You tell her, Dick. I--I can't," said Langford. His big shoulders -drooped as under a heavy burden. - -"Must I?" asked Gordon. - -"Dick, I--I can't," said Langford, brokenly. "Don't you see?--if I had -been just a minute sooner--and I promised." - -"Yes, I see, Paul," said Gordon, quietly. "I will tell her." - -"You need not," said a sweet clear voice from across the room. "I know. -I heard. I think I knew all the time--but you were all so good to make me -hope. Don't worry about me any more, dear friends. I am all right now. -It is much better to know. I hope they didn't hang him. You think they -shot him, don't you?" - -"Little girl, little girl," cried Langford, on his knees beside her, "it -is not that! It is only that we have not found him. But no news is good -news. That we have found no trace proves that they have to guard him -well because he is alive. We are going on a new tack to-morrow. Believe -me, little girl, and go to bed now, won't you, and rest?" - -"Yes," she said, wearily, as one in whom no hope was left, "I will go. I -will mind--the Boss." - -As he laid her gently on the bed, while Mrs. White, aroused from sleep, -fluttered aimlessly and drowsily about, he whispered, his breath -caressing her cheek: - -"You will go to sleep right away, won't you?" - -"I will try. You are the Boss." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -WAITING - - -The man found dead the night the Lazy S was burned out was not easily -identified. He was a half-breed, but half-breeds were many west of the -river, and the places where they laid their heads at night were as -shifting as the sands of that rapid, ominous, changing stream of theirs, -which ever cut them off from the world of their fathers and kept them -bound, but restless, chafing, in that same land where their mothers had -stared stolidly at a strange little boat-load tugging up the river that -was the forerunner of the ultimate destiny of this broad northwest -country, but which brought incidentally--as do all big destinies in the -great scheme bring sorrow to some one--wrong, misunderstanding, -forgetfulness, to a once proud, free people now in subjection. - -At last the authorities found trace of him far away at Standing Rock, -through the agent there, who knew him as of an ugly reputation,--a -dissipated, roving profligate, who had long since squandered his -government patrimony. He had been mixed up in sundry bad affairs in the -past, and had been an inveterate gambler. So much only were the Kemah -County authorities able to uncover of the wayward earthly career of the -dead man. Of his haunts and cronies of the period immediately preceding -his death, the agent could tell nothing. He had not been seen at the -agency for nearly a year. The reprobate band had covered its tracks -well. There was nothing to do but lay the dead body away and shovel -oblivion over its secret. - - * * * * * - -In the early morning after the return of the men from their unsuccessful -man hunt, Gordon, gray and haggard from loss of sleep and from hard -thought, stepped out into the kitchen to stretch his cramped limbs. He -stumbled over the figure of Langford prone upon the floor, dead asleep -in utter exhaustion. He smiled understandingly and opened the outer door -quietly, hoping he had not aroused the worn-out Boss. The air was fresh -and cool, with a hint of Autumn sharpness, and a premature Indian Summer -haze, that softened the gauntness of the landscape, and made the -distances blue and rest-giving. He felt the need of invigoration after -his night's vigil, and struck off down the road with long strides, in -pleasant anticipation of a coming appetite for breakfast. - -Thus it was that Langford, struggling to a sitting posture, rubbing his -heavy eyes with a dim consciousness that he had been disturbed, and -wondering drowsily why he was so stupid, felt something seeping through -his senses that told him he did not do well to sleep. So he decided he -would take a plunge into the cold artesian pond, and with such drastic -measures banish once and for all the elusive yet all-pervading cobwebs -which clung to him. Rising to his feet with unusual awkwardness, he -looked with scorn upon the bare floor and accused it blindly and -bitterly as the direct cause of the strange soreness that beset his -whole anatomy. The lay of the floor had changed in a night. Where was -he? He glanced helplessly about. Then he knew. - -Thus it was, that when Mary languidly opened her eyes a little later, it -was the Boss who sat beside her and smiled reassuringly. - -"You have not slept a wink," she cried, accusingly. - -"Indeed I have," he said. "Three whole hours. I feel tip-top." - -"You are--fibbing," she said. "Your eyes look so tired, and your face is -all worn." - -His heart leaped with the joy of her solicitude. - -"You are wrong," he laughed, teasingly. "I slept on the floor; and a -good bed it was, too. No, Miss Williston, I am not 'all in' yet, by any -means." - -In his new consciousness, a new formality crept into his way of -addressing her. She did not seem to notice it. - -"Forgive me for forgetting, last night," she said, earnestly. "I was -very selfish. I forgot that you had not slept for nearly two days, and -were riding all the while in--our behalf. I forgot. I was tired, and I -went to sleep. I want you to forgive me. I want you to believe that I do -appreciate what you have done. My father--" - -"Don't, don't, little girl," cried Langford, forgetting his new awe of -her maidenhood in his pity for the stricken child. - -"My father," she went on, steadily, "would thank you if he were here. I -thank you, too, even if I did forget to think whether or no you and all -the men had any sleep or anything to eat last night. Will you try to -believe that I did not forget wittingly? I was so tired." - -When Langford answered her, which was not immediately, his face was -white and he spoke quietly with a touch of injured pride. - -"If you want to hurt us, Miss Williston, that is the way to talk. We -cowmen do not do things for thanks." - -She looked at him wonderingly a moment, then said, simply, "Forgive me," -but her lips were trembling and she turned to the wall to hide the tears -that would come. After all, she was only a woman--with nerves--and the -reaction had come. She had been brave, but a girl cannot bear -everything. She sobbed. That was too much for Langford and his dignity. -He bent over her, all his heart in his honest eyes and broken voice. - -"Now you will kill me if you don't stop it. I am all sorts of a -brute--oh, deuce take me for a blundering idiot! I didn't mean it--honest -I didn't. You will believe me, won't you? There is nothing in the world -I wouldn't do for you, little girl." - -She was sobbing uncontrollably now. - -"Mr. Langford," she cried, turning to him with something of the past -horror creeping again into her wet eyes, "do you think I killed--that -man?" - -"What man? There was only one man killed, and one of my boys potted him -on the run," he said. - -"Are you sure?" she breathed, in quick relief. - -"Dead sure," convincingly. - -"And yet," she sobbed, memory coming back with a rush, "I wish--I wish--I -had killed them all." - -"So do I!" he agreed, so forcefully that she could but smile a little, -gratefully. She said, with just the faintest suggestion of color in her -white cheeks: - -"Where is everybody? Have you been sitting with me long?" - -"Mrs. White is getting breakfast, and I haven't been sitting with you as -long as I wish I had," he answered, boldly; and then added, regretfully, -"Dick was the man who had the luck to watch over you all night. I went -to sleep." - -"You were so tired," she said, sympathizingly. "And besides, I didn't -need anything." - -"It is good of you to put it that way," he said, his heart cutting -capers again. - -"Mr. Gordon is the best man I know," she said, thoughtfully. - -"There you are right, Miss Williston," he assented, heartily, despite a -quick little sting of jealousy. "He is the best man I know. I wish you -would shake hands on that--will you?" - -"Surely." - -He held the smooth brown hand in his firmly with no thought of letting -it go--yet. - -"I am not such a bad chap myself, you know, Miss Williston," he jested, -his bold eyes flashing a challenge. - -"I know it," she said, simply. "I do not know what I should do without -you. You will be good to me always, wont you? There is no one but -me--now." - -She was looking at him trustingly, confident of his friendship, -innocent, he knew, of any feminine wile in this her dark hour. The -sweetness of it went to his head. He forgot that she was in sorrow he -could not cure, forgot that she was looking to him in all probability -only as the possible saviour of her father. He forgot everything -except the fact that there was nothing in all the world worth while -but this brown-eyed, white-cheeked, grieving girl, and he went mad -with the quick knowledge thereof. He held the hand he had not released -to his face, brushed it against his lips, caressed it against his -breast; then he bent forward--close--and whispering, "I will be good to -you--always--little girl," kissed her on the forehead and was gone just -as Gordon, filled with the life of the new day, came swinging into the -house for his well-earned breakfast. - -The sheriff and his party of deputies made a diligent search for -Williston that day and for many days to come. It was of no avail. He had -disappeared, and all trace with him, as completely as if he had been -spirited away in the night to another world--body and soul. That the soul -of him had really gone to another world came to be generally -believed--Mary held no hope after the return of the first expedition; but -why could they find no trace of his body? Where was it? Where had it -found a resting place? Was it possible for a man, quick or dead, even -west of the river in an early day of its civilization when the law had a -winking eye, to fall away from his wonted haunts in a night and leave no -print, neither a bone nor a rag nor a memory, to give mute witness that -this way he passed, that way he rested a bit, here he took horse, there -he slept, with this man he had converse, that man saw his still body -borne hence? Could such a thing be? It seemed so. - -After a gallant and dauntless search, which lasted through the best days -of September, Langford was forced to let cold reason have its sway. He -had thought, honestly, that the ruffians would not dare commit murder, -knowing that they were being pursued; but now he was forced to the -opinion that they had dared the worst, after all. For, though it would -be hard to hide all trace of a dead man, infinitely greater would be the -difficulty in covering the trail of a living one,--one who must eat and -drink, who had a mouth to be silenced and strength to be restrained. It -came gradually to him, the belief that Williston was dead; but it came -surely. With it came the jeer of the spectre that would not let him -forget that he should have foreseen what would surely happen. With it -came also a great tenderness for Mary, and a redoubled vigilance to keep -his unruly tongue from blurting out things that would hurt her who was -looking to him, in the serene confidence in his good friendship, for -brotherly counsel and comfort. - -In the first dark days of his new belief, he spoke to Gordon, and the -young lawyer had written a second letter to the "gal reporter." In -response, she came at once to Kemah and from thence to the White -homestead in the Boss's "own private." This time the Boss did the -driving himself, bringing consternation to the heart of one Jim Munson, -cow-puncher, who viewed the advent of her and her "mouse-colored hair" -with serious trepidation and alarm. What he had dreaded had come to -pass. 'T was but a step now to the Three Bars. A fussy woman would be -the means of again losing man his Eden. It was monstrous. He sulked, -aggrievedly, systematically. - -Louise slipped into the sad life at the Whites' easily, sweetly, -adaptably. Mary rallied under her gentle ministrations. There was--would -ever be--a haunting pathos in the dark eyes, but she arose from her bed, -grateful for any kindness shown her, strong in her determination not to -be a trouble to any one by giving way to weak and unavailing tears. If -she ever cried, it was in the night, when no one knew. Even Louise, who -slept with her, did not suspect the truth for some time. But one night -she sat straight up in bed suddenly, out of her sleep, with an -indefinable intuition that it would be well for her to be awake. Mary -was lying in a strange, unnatural quiet. Instinctively Louise reached -out a gentle, consoling hand to her. She was right. Mary was not -sleeping. The following night the same thing happened, and the next -night also; but one night when she reached over to comfort, she found -her gentle intention frustrated by a pillow under which Mary had hidden -her head while she gave way guardedly to her pent-up grief. - -Louise changed her tactics. She took Mary on long walks over the -prairie, endeavoring to fatigue her into sleep. The length of these -jaunts grew gradually and systematically. It came at last to be an -established order of the day for the two girls to strike off early, with -a box of luncheon strapped over Louise's shoulder, for--nowhere in -particular, but always somewhere that consumed the better part of the -day in the going and coming. Sometimes the hills and bluffs of the river -region drew them. Sometimes a woman's whim made them hold to a straight -line over the level distance for the pure satisfaction of watching the -horizon across illimitable space remain stationary and changeless, -despite their puny efforts to stride the nearer to it. Sometimes, when -they chose the level, they played, like children, that they would walk -and walk till the low-lying horizon had to change, until out of its hazy -enchantment rose mountain-peaks and forests and valleys and cities. It -proved an alluring game. A great and abiding friendship grew out of this -_wanderlust_, cemented by a loneliness that each girl carried closely in -the innermost recesses of her heart and guarded jealously there. It was -a like loneliness in the littleness and atom-like inconsequence of self -each must hug to her breast,--and yet, how unlike! Louise was alone in a -strange, big land, but there was home for her somewhere, and kin of her -own kind to whom she might flee when the weight of alienism pressed too -sorely. But Mary was alone in her own land; there was nowhere to flee to -when her heart rebelled and cried out in the bitterness of its -loneliness; this was her home, and she was alone in it. - -Louise learned to love the plains country. She revelled in its winds; -the high ones, blowing bold and free with their call to throw off -lethargy and stay from drifting; the low ones, sighing and rustling -through the already dead grass--a mournful and whispering lament for the -Summer gone. She had thought to become reconciled to the winds the last -of all. She was a prim little soul with all her sweet graciousness, and -dearly desired her fair hair ever to be in smooth and decorous coil or -plait. Strangely enough, the winds won her first allegiance. She loved -to climb to the summit of one of the barren hills flanking the river and -stand there while the wind just blew and blew. Loosened tendrils of hair -bothered her little these days. She relegated hats and puny, impotent -hat-pins to oblivion. Her hair roughened and her fair skin tanned, but -neither did these things bother her. It was the strength of the wind and -the freedom, and because it might blow where it listed without regard to -the arbitrary and self-important will of strutting man, that enthralled -her imagination. It came about that the bigness and loneliness of this -big country assumed a like aspect. It was not yet subjugated. The -vastness of it and the untrammelled freedom of it, though it took her -girl's breath away, was to dwell with her forever, a sublime memory, -even when the cow country--unsubjugated--was only a retrospection of -silver hairs. - -Mary, because of her abounding health, healed of her wound rapidly. -Langford took advantage of the girls' absorption in each other's company -to ride often and at length on quests of his own creation. With October, -Louise must join Judge Dale for the Autumn term of court. He haunted the -hills. He was not looking now for a living man; he was seeking a -cleverly concealed grave. He flouted the opinion--held by many--that the -body had been thrown into the Missouri and would wash ashore some later -day many and many a mile below. He held firmly to his fixed idea that -impenetrable mystery clouding the ultimate close of Williston's earthly -career was the sought aim of his murderers, and they would risk no -river's giving up its dead to their undoing. - -It had been ascertained beyond reasonable doubt that Williston could not -have left the country in any of the usual modes. His description was at -all the stations along the line, together with the theory that he would -be leaving under compulsion. - -Meanwhile, Gordon had buckled down for the big fight. He was sadly -handicapped, with the whole prop of his testimony struck from under him -by Williston's disappearance. However, those who knew him best--the -number was not large--looked for things to happen in those days. They, -the few, the courageous minority, through all the ups and downs--with the -balance in favor of the downs most of the time--of the hardest-fought -battle of his life, the end of which left him gray at the temples, -maintained a deep and abiding faith in this quiet, unassuming young man, -who had squared his shoulders to this new paralyzing blow and refused to -be knocked out, who walked with them and talked with them, but kept his -own counsel, abided his time, and in the meantime--worked. - -One day, Langford was closeted with him for a long two hours in his -dingy, one-roomed office on the ground floor. The building was a plain -wooden affair with its square front rising above the roof. In the rear -was a lean-to where Gordon slept and had his few hours of privacy. - -"It won't do, Paul," Gordon said in conclusion. "I have thought it all -out. We have absolutely nothing to go upon--nothing at least but our own -convictions and a bandaged arm, and they won't hang a man with Jesse's -diabolical influence. We'll fight it out on the sole question of 'Mag,' -Paul. After that--well--who knows? Something else may turn up. There may -be developments. Meanwhile, just wait. There will be justice for -Williston yet." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -MRS. HIGGINS RALLIES TO HER COLORS - - -The Kemah County Court convened on a Tuesday, the second week in -December. The Judge coming with his court reporter to Velpen on Monday -found the river still open. December had crept softly to its appointed -place in the march of months with a gentle heralding of warm, southwest -winds. - -"Weather breeder," said Mrs. Higgins of the Bon Ami, with a mournful -shake of her head. "You mark my words and remember I said it. It's a -sorry day for the cows when the river's running in December." - -She was serving the judicial party herself, and capably, too. She dearly -loved the time the courts met, on either side of the river. It brought -many interesting people to the Bon Ami, although not often the Judge. -His coming for supper was a most unusual honor, and it was due to -Louise, who had playfully insisted. He had humored her much against his -will, it must be confessed; for he had a deeply worn habit of making -straight for the hotel from the station and there remaining until Hank -Bruebacher, liveryman, who never permitted anything to interfere with or -any one to usurp his prerogative of driving his honor to and from Kemah -when court was in session, whistled with shameless familiarity the -following morning to make his honor cognizant of the fact that he, Hank, -was ready. But he had come to the Bon Ami because Louise wished it, and -he reflected whimsically on the astonishment, amounting almost to -horror, on the face of his good landlord at the Velpen House when it -became an assured fact that he was not and had not been in the -dining-room. - -"You are right, Mrs. Higgins," assented the Judge gravely to her weather -predictions, "and the supper you have prepared for us is worthy the hand -that serves it. Kings and potentates could ask no better. Louise, dear -child, I am fond of you and I hope you will never go back East." - -"Thank you, Uncle Hammond," said Louise, who knew that an amusing -thought was seeping through this declaration of affection. "I am sorry -to give you a heartache, but I am going back to God's country some day, -nevertheless." - -"Maybe so--maybe not," said the Judge. "Mrs. Higgins, my good woman, how -is our friend, the canker-worm, coming on these days?" - -"Canker-worm?" repeated Mrs. Higgins. "Meanin', your honor--" - -"Just what I say--canker-worm. Isn't he the worm gnawing in discontent at -the very core of the fair fruit of established order and peace in the -cow country?" - -"I--I--don't understand, your honor," faltered the woman, in great -trepidation. Would his honor consider her a hopeless stupid? But what -was the man talking about? Louise looked up, a flush of color staining -her cheeks. - -"Maybe fire-brand would suit you better, madame? My young friend, the -fire-brand," resumed the Judge, rising. "That is good--fire-brand. Is he -not inciting the populace to 'open rebellion, false doctrine, and -schism'? Is it not because of him that roofs are burned over the very -heads of the helpless homesteader?" - -"For shame, Uncle Hammond," exclaimed Louise, still flushed and with a -mutinous little sparkle in her eyes. "You are poking fun at me. You -haven't any right to, you know; but that's your way. I don't care, but -Mrs. Higgins doesn't understand." - -"Don't you, Mrs. Higgins?" asked the Judge. - -"No, I don't," snapped Mrs. Higgins, and she didn't, but she thought she -did. "Only if you mean Mr. Richard Gordon, I'll tell you now there ain't -no one in this here God-forsaken country who can hold a tallow candle to -him. Just put that in your pipe and smoke it, will you?" - -She piled up dishes viciously. She did not wait for her guests to depart -before she began demolishing the table. It was a tremendous breach of -etiquette, but she didn't care. To have an ideal shattered ruthlessly is -ever a heart-breaking thing. - -"But my dear Mrs. Higgins," expostulated the Judge. - -"You needn't," said that lady, shortly. "I don't care," she went on, "if -the president himself or an archangel from heaven came down here and -plastered Dick Gordon with bad-smellin' names from the crown of his -little toe to the tip of his head, I'd tell 'em to their very faces that -they didn't know what they was a talkin' about, and what's more they'd -better go back to where they belong and not come nosin' round in other -people's business when they don't understand one single mite about it. -We don't want 'm puttin' their fingers in our pie when they don't know a -thing about us or our ways. That's my say," she closed, with appalling -significance, flattering herself that no one could dream but that she -was dealing in the most off-hand generalities. She was far too politic -to antagonize, and withal too good a woman not to strike for a friend. -She congratulated herself she had been true to all her gods--and she had -been. - -Louise smiled in complete sympathy, challenging the Judge meanwhile with -laughing eyes. But the Judge--he was still much of a boy in spite of his -grave calling and mature years--just threw back his blonde head and -shouted in rapturous glee. He laughed till the very ceiling rang in loud -response; laughed till the tears shone in his big blue eyes. Mrs. -Higgins looked on in undisguised amazement, hands on hips. - -"Dear me, suz!" she sputtered, "is the man gone clean daffy?" - -"Won't you shake hands with me, Mrs. Higgins?" he asked, gravely. "I ask -your pardon for my levity, and I assure you there isn't a man in the -whole world I esteem more or hold greater faith in than Dick Gordon--or -love so much. I thank you for your championship of him. I would that he -had more friends like you. Louise, are you ready?" - -Their walk to the hotel was a silent one. Later, as she was leaving him -to go to her own room, Louise laid her head caressingly on her uncle's -sleeve. - -"Uncle Hammond," she said, impulsively, "you are--incorrigible, but you -are the best man in all the world." - -"The very best?" he asked, smilingly. - -"The very best," she repeated, firmly. - -There was a full calendar that term, and the close of the first week -found the court still wrestling with criminal cases, with that of Jesse -Black yet uncalled. Gordon reckoned that Black's trial could not -possibly be taken up until Tuesday or Wednesday of the following week. -Long before that, the town began filling up for the big rustling case. -There were other rustling cases on the criminal docket, but they paled -before this one where the suspected leader of a gang was on trial. The -interested and the curious did not mean to miss any part of it. They -began coming in early in the week. They kept coming the remainder of -that week and Sunday as well. Even as late as Monday, delayed range -riders came scurrying in, leaving the cattle mostly to shift for -themselves. The Velpen aggregation, better informed, kept to its own -side of the river pretty generally until the Sunday, at least, should be -past. - -The flats southeast of town became the camping grounds for those unable -to find quarters at the hotel, and who lived too far out to make the -nightly ride home and back in the morning. They were tempted by the -unusually mild weather. These were mostly Indians and half-breeds, but -with a goodly sprinkling of cowboys of the rougher order. Camp-fires -spotted the plain, burning redly at night. There was plenty of -drift-wood to be had for the hauling. Blanketed Indians squatted and -smoked around their fires--a revival of an older and better day for them. -Sometimes they stalked majestically through the one street of the town. - -The judicial party was safely housed in the hotel, with the best service -it was possible for the management to give in this busy season of -congested patronage. It was impossible to accommodate the crowds. Even -the office was jammed with cots at night. Mary Williston had come in -from White's to be with Louise. She was physically strong again, but -ever strangely quiet, always sombre-eyed. - -"What shall I do, Louise?" she asked, one night. They were sitting in -darkness. From their east window they could see the gleaming red -splotches that were fires on the flat. - -"What do you mean, Mary?" asked Louise, dreamily. She was thinking how -much sterner Gordon grew every day. He still had a smile for his -friends, but he always smiled under defeat. That is what hurt so. She -had noticed that very evening at supper how gray his hair was getting at -the temples. He had looked lonely and sad. Was it then all so hopeless? - -"I mean, to make a living for myself," Mary answered, earnestly. "There -is no one in the world belonging to me now. There were only father and -I. What shall I do, Louise?" - -"Mary, dear, dear Mary, what are you thinking of doing?" - -"Anything," she answered, her proud reticence giving way before her -need, "that will keep me from the charity of my friends. The frock I -have on, plain as it is, is mine through the generosity of Paul -Langford. The bread I eat he pays for. He--he lied to me, Louise. He told -me the cowmen had made a purse for my present needs. They hadn't. It was -all from him. I found out. Mrs. White is poor. She can't keep a great, -strapping girl like me for nothing. I am such a hearty eater, and he has -been paying her, Louise, for what I ate. Think of it! I thought I should -die when I found it out. I made her promise not to take another cent -from him--for me. So I have been working to make it up. I have washed and -ironed and scrubbed and baked. I was man of affairs at the ranch while -Mr. White went out with the gang for the Fall round-up. I have herded. -But one has to have things besides one's bread. The doctor was paid out -of that make-believe purse, but it must all be made up to Paul -Langford--every cent of it." - -"Mr. Langford would be very much hurt if you should do that," began -Louise, slowly. "It was because of him, you know, primarily, that--" - -"He owes me nothing," interrupted Mary, sharply. - -"Oh," said Louise, smiling in the dark. - -"I believe I could teach school," went on Mary, with feverish haste, "if -I could get a school to teach." - -"I should think Mr. Gordon could help you to secure a place here," said -Louise. - -"I have not told Mr. Gordon my troubles," said Mary, gravely. "I should -not dream of intruding with such petty affairs while his big fight is -on--his glorious fight. He will avenge my father. Nothing matters but -that. He has enough to bear--without a woman's trivial grievances." - -"But he would be glad to take that little trouble for you if he knew," -persisted Louise. She was feeling small and of little worth in the -strength of Mary's sweeping independence. She was hauntingly sure that -in like circumstances she would be weak enough to take her trouble to--a -man like Gordon, for instance. It came to her, there in the dark, that -maybe he loved Mary. She had no cause to wonder, if this were true. Mary -was fine--beautiful, lovable, stanch and true and capable, and he had -known her long before he knew there was such a creature in existence as -the insignificant, old-maidenish, mouse-haired reporter from the East. -The air of the room suddenly became stifling. She threw open a window. -The soft, damp air of the cloudy, warm darkness floated in and caressed -her hot cheeks. Away, away over yonder, beyond the twinkling camp-fires -on the flat, across the river, away to the east, were her childhood's -home and her kin. Here were the big, unthinking, overbearing cow country -and--the man who loved Mary Williston, maybe. - -It was getting late bedtime. Men were shuffling noisily through the hall -on their way to their rooms. Scraps of conversation drifted in to the -two girls. - -"He's a fool to make the try without Williston." - -"It takes some folks a mighty long time to learn their place in this -here county." - -"Well, I reckon he thinks the county kin afford to stand good for his -fool play." - -"He'll learn his mistake--when Jesse gets out." - -"Naw! Not the ghost of a show!" - -"He'd ought to be tarred and feathered and shot full o' holes, and -shipped back to where he come from to show his kind how we deal with -plumb idjits west o' the river." - -"Well, he'll dance a different stunt 'gainst this is over." - -"You bet! Jesse'll do his stunt next." - -And then they heard the lazy doctor's voice drawling, "Mebby so, but -let's wait and see, shall we?" - -Men's minds were set unshiftingly on this coming trial. How Gordon would -have to fight for a fair jury! - -"I think it is as you said," said Mary, presently. "Mr. Langford feels -he owes me--bread and clothes. He is anxious to pay off the debt so there -will be nothing on his conscience. He owes me nothing, nothing, Louise, -but he is a man and he thinks he can pay off any obligation he may -feel." - -"That is a harsh motive you ascribe to Mr. Langford," said Louise, -closing the window and coming to sit affectionately at Mary's feet. "I -don't think he means it in that way at all. I think it is a fine and -delicate and manly thing he has done. He did not intend for you to -know--or any one. And don't you think, Mary, that the idea of making up a -purse should have come from some one else--just as he tried to make you -believe? It was not done, so what was left for Mr. Langford to do? He -had promised to see your father through. He was glad to do it. I think -it was fine of him to do--what he did--the way he did it." - -She had long thought the Boss dreamed dreams of Mary. She was more sure -of it than ever to-night. And now if Gordon did, too--well, Mary was worth -it. But she would be sorry for one of them some day. They were fine -men--both of them. - -"But I shall pay him back--every cent," replied Mary, firmly. "He owes me -nothing, Louise, nothing, I tell you. I will not accept alms--of him. You -see that I couldn't, don't you?" - -"I know he does not feel he owes you anything--in the way you are -accusing him," answered Louise, wisely. "He is doing this because you -are you and he cannot bear to think of you suffering for things when he -wants to help you more than he could dare to tell you now. Mary, don't -you see? I think, too, you must pay him back some day, but don't worry -about it. You would hurt him too much if you do not take plenty of time -to get strong and well before repaying him--paltry dollars. There will be -a way found, never fear. Meanwhile you can amuse yourself correcting my -transcripts to keep you content till something turns up, and we will -_make_ something turn up. Wait until this term is over and don't fret. -You won't fret, will you?" - -"I will try not to, Louise," said Mary, with a little weary gesture of -acquiescence. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -CHANNEL ICE - - -A jolly party set off for Velpen Sunday morning. Hank Bruebacher had -remained over night on purpose to escort them to the river in his 'bus. -It had been caught on the wrong side. The channel had closed over about -the middle of the week. The ice had been very thin at first; there had -been no drop of the thermometer, but a gradual lowering night after -night had at last made men deem it safe to cross on foot. A rumor to -this effect had drifted in to the tired jurors hanging around and -killing time, waiting to be called. Sunday in Kemah was impossible--to -many. Besides, they had had a week of it. They were sure of a good -dinner at Velpen, where there had been no such fearful inroads on the -supplies, and the base of whose supplies, moreover, was not cut off as -it was at Kemah by the closing of the river, which was not yet solid -enough for traffic. That consideration held weight with many. Saloon -service was a little better, and that, too, had its votaries. Business -appointments actuated Gordon and perhaps a few others. _Ennui_ pure and -simple moved the Court and the Court's assistant. - -It was about ten in the morning. It was frosty, but bright, and the -little cold snap bade fair to die prematurely. It surely was wonderful -weather for South Dakota. - -"Where is Mary?" asked the Judge, as Louise came lightly down the -stairs, ready to put on her gloves. - -"She went out to the Whites' an hour or so ago--to do the week's washing, -I suspect. Mr. Langford took her out." - -"Louise! On Sunday!" Even the tolerant Judge was shocked. - -"It's true, Uncle Hammond," persisted Louise, earnestly. - -She wore a modish hat that was immensely becoming, and looked charming. -Gordon stood at the worn, wooden steps, hat off, despite the nipping -air, waiting to assist her to the place the gallant Hank had reserved -for her. - -He sat down at her right, Judge Dale at her left. The jurymen filled the -other places rapidly. The heavy wagon lurched forward. The road was -good; there had been no snows or thaws. Now was Hank in his element. It -is very probable that he was the most unreservedly contented man in -seven States that fair Sunday morning--always excepting Munson of the -Three Bars. A few straggling buckboards and horsemen brought up the -rear. Judge Dale, taking to himself as much room as it was possible to -confiscate with elbows slyly pressed outward chickenwing-wise, fished -out his newspaper leisurely, leaned over Gordon to say in a -matter-of-fact voice, "Just amuse Louise for a little while, will you, -Dick, while I glance at the news; you won't have to play, just talk,--she -likes to talk," and buried himself in the folds of the jiggling paper; -much jiggled because Hank had no intention of permitting any vehicle to -pass the outfit of which the Judge was passenger while he, Hank -Bruebacher, held the reins. He was an authority of the road, and as -such, he refused to be passed by anything on wheels. - -The rattle of the wagon drowned all coherent conversation. The Judge's -outspread arms had forced Louise very close to her neighbor on the -right, who had the instructions to keep her amused, but even then he -must bend his head if he were to obey orders strictly and--talk. He chose -to obey. Last night, he had been worn out with the strain of the week; -he had not been able to forget things. To-day,--well, to-day was to-day. - -"Are you going to hear the bishop?" asked Louise. It was a little hard -to make conversation when every time one lifted one's eyes one found -one's self so startlingly close to a man's fine face. - -"Surely!" responded Gordon. "An incomparable scholar--an indefatigable -workman--truest of saints." There was grave reverence in his lowered -voice. - -"You know him well?" - -"Yes. I see him often in his Indian mission work. He is one of the best -friends I have." - -The river gleamed with a frozen deadness alongside. The horses' hoofs -pounded rhythmically over the hardened road. Opposite, a man who had -evidently found saloon service in Kemah pretty good, but who doubtless -would put himself in a position to make comparisons as soon as ever his -unsteady feet could carry him there, began to sing a rollicking melody -in a maudlin falsetto. - -"Shut up!" One of the men nudged him roughly. - -"Right you are," said the singer, pleasantly, whose name was Lawson. "It -is not seemly that we lift up our voices in worldly melody on this holy -day and--in the presence of a lady," with an elaborate bow and a vacant -grin that made Louise shrink closer to the Judge. "I suggest we all join -in a sacred song." He followed up his own suggestion with a discordant -burst of "Yes, we will gather at the river." - -"He means the kind o' rivers they have in the 'Place around the -Corner,'" volunteered Hank, turning around with a knowing wink. "They -have rivers there--plenty of 'em--only none of 'em ever saw water." - -"I tell you, shut up," whispered the man who had first chided. "Can't -you see there's a lady present? No more monkey-shines or we'll oust you. -Hear?" - -"I bow to the demands of the lady," said Lawson, subsiding with happy -gallantry. - -"You have many 'best friends' for a man who boasted not so long ago that -he stood alone in the cow country," said Louise, resuming the -interrupted conversation with Gordon. - -"He is one of the fingers," retorted Gordon. "I confessed to one hand, -you will remember." - -"Let me see," said Louise, musingly. She began counting on her own -daintily gloved hand. - -"Mrs. Higgins is the thumb, you said?" questioningly. - -"Yes." - -"Mr. Langford is the first finger, of course?" - -"Of course." - -"And Uncle Hammond is the middle finger?" - -"You have said it." - -"And the bishop is the third finger?" - -"He surely is." - -"And--and--Mary is the next?" - -"Sorceress! You have guessed all right." - -"Then where am I?" she challenged, half in earnest, half in fun. "You -might have left at least the little finger for me." - -He laughed under his breath--an unsteady sort of laugh, as if something -had knocked at his habitual self control. There was only one answer to -that gay, mocking challenge--only one--and that he could not give. He -forgot for a little while that there were other people in the wagon. The -poor babbling, grinning man across the way was not the only drunken man -therein. Only one answer, and that to draw the form closer--closer to -him--against his heart--for there was where she belonged. Fingers? What -did he care for fingers now? He wanted to lay his face down against her -soft hair--it was so perilously near. If only he might win in his fight! -But even so, what would it matter? What could there ever be for her in -this cruel, alien land? She had been so kindly and lovingly nurtured. In -her heart nestled the home call--for all time. She was bound in its -meshes. They would draw her sooner or later to her sure and inevitable -destiny. And what was there for him elsewhere--after all these years? -Kismet. He drew a long breath. - -"I'm a poor maverick, I suppose, marked with no man's friendship. But -you see I'm learning the language of the brotherhood. Why don't you -compliment me on my adaptability?" - -She looked up smilingly. She was hurt, but he should never know it. And -he, because of the pain in him, answered almost roughly: - -"It is not a language for you to learn. You will never learn. Quit -trying. You are not like us." - -She, because she did not understand, felt the old homesick choking in -her throat, and remembered with a reminiscent shudder of the first awful -time she had spun along that road. Everybody seemed to spin in this -strange land. She felt herself longing for the fat, lazy, old jogging -horses of her country home. Horses couldn't hurry there because the -hills were too many and the roads too heavy. These lean, shaggy, -range-bred horses were diabolical in their predilection for going. -Hank's surely were no exception to the rule. He pulled them up with a -grand flourish at the edge of the steep incline leading directly upon -the pontoon that bridged the narrowed river on the Kemah side of the -island, and they stopped dead still with the cleanness worthy of cow -ponies. The suddenness of the halt precipitated them all into a general -mix-up. Gordon had braced himself for the shock, but Louise was wholly -unprepared. She was thrown violently against him. The contact paled his -face. The soft hair he had longed to caress in his madness brushed his -cheek. He shivered. - -"Oh!" cried Louise, laughing and blushing, "I wasn't expecting that!" - -Most of the men were already out and down on the bridge. A lone -pedestrian was making his way across. - -"All safe?" queried Judge Dale, as he came up. - -"A little thin over the channel, but all safe if you cross a-foot." - -"Suppose we walk across the island," suggested the Judge, who -occasionally overcame his indolence in spasmodic efforts to counteract -his growing portliness, "and our friend Hank will meet us here in the -morning." - -So it was agreed. The little party straggled gayly across the bridge. -The walk across the island was far from irksome. The air was still -bracing, though rags of smoky cloud were beginning to obscure the sun. -The gaunt cottonwoods stood out in sombre silhouette against the -unsoftened bareness of the winter landscape. Louise was somewhat -thoughtful and pensive since her little attempt to challenge intimacy -had been so ungraciously received. To Gordon, on the other hand, had -come a strange, new exhilaration. His blood bounded joyously through his -veins. This was his day--he would live it to the dregs. To-morrow, and -renunciation--well, that was to-morrow. He could not even resent, as, -being a man, he should have resented, the unwelcome and ludicrous -attentions of the drunken singer to the one woman in the crowd, because -whenever the offender came near, Louise would press closer to him, -Gordon, and once, in her quick distaste to the proximity of the man, she -clutched Gordon's coat-sleeve nervously. It was the second time he had -felt her hand on his arm. He never forgot either. But the man received -such a withering chastisement from Gordon's warning eyes that he ceased -to molest until the remainder of the island road had been traversed. - -Then men looked at each other questioningly. A long, narrow, -single-plank bridge stretched across the channel. It was not then so -safe as report would have it. The boards were stretched lengthwise with -a long step between each board and the next. What was to be done? Hank -had gone long since. No one coveted the long walk back to Kemah. Every -one did covet the comfort or pleasure upon which each had set his heart. -Gordon, the madness of his intoxication still upon him, constituted -himself master of ceremonies. He stepped lightly upon the near plank to -reconnoitre. He walked painstakingly from board to board. He was dealing -in precious freight--he would draw no rash conclusions. When he had -reached what he considered the middle of the channel, he returned and -pronounced it in his opinion safe, with proper care, and advised -strongly that no one step upon a plank till the one in front of him had -left it. Thus the weight of only one person at a time would materially -lessen the danger of the ice's giving way. So the little procession took -up its line of march. - -Gordon had planned that Louise should follow her uncle and he himself -would follow Louise; thus he might rest assured that there would be no -encroachment upon her preserves. The officious songster, contrary to -orders, glided ahead of his place when the line of march was well taken -up--usurping anybody's plank at will, and trotting along over the bare -ice until finally he drew alongside Louise with an amiable grin. - -"I will be here ready for emergencies," he confided, meaningly. "You -need not be afraid. If the ice breaks, I will save you." - -"Get back, you fool," cried Gordon, fiercely. - -"And leave this young lady alone? Not so was I brought up, young man," -answered Lawson, with great dignity. "Give me your hand, miss, I will -steady you." - -Louise shrank from his touch and stepped back to the end of her plank. - -"Get on that plank, idiot!" cried Gordon, wrathfully. "And if you dare -step on this lady's board again, I'll wring your neck. Do you hear?" - -He had stepped lightly off his own plank for a moment while he drew -Louise back to it. The ice gave treacherously, and a little pool of -water showed where his foot had been. Louise faltered. - -"It--it--flows so fast," she said, nervously. - -"It is nothing," he reassured her. "I will be more careful another -time." - -It was a perilous place for two. He hurried her to the next board as -soon as the subdued transgressor had left it, he himself holding back. - -It was indeed an odd procession. Dark figures balanced themselves on the -slim footing, each the length of a plank from the other, the line -seeming to stretch from bank to bank. It would have been ludicrous had -it not been for the danger, which all realized. Some half-grown boys, -prowling along the Velpen shore looking for safe skating, gibed them -with flippant rudeness. - -Lawson took fire. - -"Whoop 'er up, boys," he yelled, waving his hat enthusiastically. - -He pranced up gayly to the Judge, tripping along on the bare ice. - -"Your arm, your honor," he cried. "It is a blot on my escutcheon that I -have left you to traverse this danger-bristling way alone--you, the -Judge. But trust me. If the ice breaks, I will save you. I swim like a -fish." - -"My friend," said Dale, fixing on him eyes of calm disapproval, "if you -are the cause of my being forced to a cold-water plunge bath against my -wishes, I will sentence you to the gallows. Now go!" - -He went. He was hurt, but he was not deterred. He would wait for the -lady. A gentleman could do no less. Louise stopped. Gordon stopped. The -whole back line stopped. Each man stood to his colors and--his plank. -Louise, glancing appealingly over her shoulder, gave an hysterical -little laugh. - -"Move on!" cried Gordon, impatiently. - -Instead of moving on, however, Lawson came confidently toward Louise. -She stifled a little feminine scream in her handkerchief and stepped -hastily backward. - -"Don't be afraid," said Lawson. - -Gordon repressed a rising oath, and cried out, "If you dare--," but -Lawson had already dared. His heavy step was upon Louise's frail -support. She thought shudderingly, intuitively, of the dark, swift, -angry current under its thin veneer of ice--the current that was always -hungry and ate islands and fertile fields in ravenous mouthfuls. She ran -back to the end of her plank. - -"Have no fear," said the drunken man, blandly. He stepped to the bare -ice at her side. "A man can't walk pigeon-toed always," he confided. -"Besides, there's not a particle of danger. These fools are making a -mountain of a mole-hill." - -Gordon came forward quickly. - -"Run ahead, Miss Dale, I'll tend to this fellow," he said. - -He extended a firm hand. He meant to clutch the man, shove him behind, -and keep him there. But at that moment the ice began to give under -Lawson's clumsy feet. A look of blank, piteous helplessness came into -his drunken eyes as he felt the treacherous ice sinking beneath him. He -tottered, then, with frantic, unthinking haste, and sprang to the plank, -but it, too, began to sink. He laid desperate hold of the girl. - -"Save me!" he shrieked. - -Louise was conscious only of a quick, awful terror, a dreadful horror of -swaying and sinking, and then she was muffled against a rough coat, -strong arms clasped her tightly and bore her backward. Shivering, she -hid her face in the coat, clutching the lapels with nervous strength. - -"You'll spoil your Sunday clothes," she moaned, trying desperately to be -calm and sensible. - -And Gordon held her at last as he had dreamed in his mad moments of -holding her--close against his heart--in the place he had not dared to -tell her he had already put her. His face was pressed against the fair -hair that he had longed with an indescribable longing to caress such a -short time ago. His lips brushed the soft strands with infinite -tenderness. Now was his dream come true. This day was his. No one might -take it from him. To-morrow,--but that was to-morrow. To-day was his. He -would live it to the end. Closer he held her,--the dear woman,--there was -no one else in all the world. When he released her, she was confronting -a man whose face was as white as the ice around them. - -"Is this--the last of us?" she questioned, tremulously. - -He flung his arm over her shoulders again. He did not know exactly what -he did. Men were coming forward rapidly, aware that a great tragedy had -threatened, had been averted. Dale was hastily retracing his steps. -Lawson had crawled to a place of safety on a forward plank after having -been flung out of the way by Gordon in his swift rush for Louise. He was -grinning foolishly, but was partially sobered by the shock. - -"Back! All of you!" cried Gordon, imperiously. He was very pale, but he -had regained his self-control. "Idiots! Do you want another accident? -Back to your places! We'll have to go around." - -The ice was broken in many spots. Louise had really gone through, but so -quick had been her rescue that she escaped with wet feet only. By making -a portable bridge of two of the planks, they skirted the yawning hole in -safety. It was a more dangerous undertaking now that two must stand on a -plank at the same time. Luckily, the greater number were ahead when the -accident occurred. It was not much past noon,--but Gordon's day was -ended. It was as if the sun had gone down on it. He found no opportunity -to speak to Louise again, and the to-morrow, his to-morrow, had come. -But the one day had been worth while. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE GAME IS ON - - -Contrary to expectation, the case of the State of South Dakota against -Jesse Black was called soon after the sitting of the court Monday -afternoon. No testimony was introduced, however, until the following -day. Inch by inch, step by step, Gordon fought for a fair jury through -that tense afternoon. Merciless in his shrewd examination, keen to -detect hesitancy, prejudices sought to be concealed he cleverly and -relentlessly unearthed. Chair after chair was vacated,--only to be -vacated again. It seemed there was not a man in the county who had not -heard somewhat of this much-heralded crime--if crime it were. And he who -had heard was a prejudiced partisan. How could it be otherwise where -feeling ran so high,--where honest men mostly felt resentment against the -man who dared to probe the wound without extracting the cause of it, and -a hatred and fear curiously intermingled with admiration of the outlaw -whose next move after obtaining his freedom might be to cut out of the -general herd, cows of their own brands,--where tainted men, officers or -cowmen, awaited developments with a consuming interest that was not -above manipulating the lines of justice for their own selfish ends? Yet, -despite the obstacles in the way, Gordon was determined to have an -unprejudiced jury in so far as it lay in human power to seat such a one -in the box. So he worked, and worked hard. - -This impanelling of the jury was not interesting to the crowd. Many had -no hint of its deeper meaning. Others saw it in the light of child's -play--a certain braggadocio on the part of the young lawyer. They wanted -the actual show to begin--the examination of witnesses. They came and -went restlessly, impatiently waiting. Wiser heads than theirs knew that -the game was already on in deadly earnest. If these had been lucky -enough to get seats in the small and overcrowded court-room, they -remained glued to them. They were waiting to see what manner of men -would be chosen--Jesse's peers--to pass judgment on his acts and mete out -for him just deserts--if they were capable of a just verdict. The -square-jawed, keen-witted, clean-cut captain of justice, who had -forgotten that the campaign had aged him irrevocably and that some -whitened hair would never grow brown again, meant that they should be -capable. The opposing lawyers smiled tolerantly at the numerous -challenges. These smiles went far to convince many of the infallibility -of their defence. Amused tolerance is a powerful weapon on more fields -than one where men war with their wits. It is a wise man who cultivates -the art. - -"We have chosen the right man," whispered Langford to Mary. They had -secured seats near the front and were of those who knew the game was -being played. - -"He is great," returned Mary. If only her father could be there to help! -The odds were fearful. Louise, sitting at her table within the bar, with -faith in this man's destiny sufficient to remove mountains, smiled down -at her friends. - -"Louise is an angel," said Mary, affectionately. - -"Yes, she is," responded Langford, absently, for he was not looking at -the girl reporter, nor were his thoughts on her side of the rail. He -wished for the sake of Williston's "little girl" that there were not so -much tobacco stench in the room. But this was a vague and intangible -wish. He wished with the whole strength of his manhood--which was -much--that this man on trial might be made to pay the penalty of his -crime as a stepping-stone to paying the penalty of that greater crime -of which he firmly believed him guilty. His own interest had become -strangely secondary since that hot July day when he had pledged himself -to vengeance. This falling off might have dated from a certain September -morning when he had lost himself--for all time--to a girl with pain-pinched -face and fever-brightened eyes who wore a blue wrapper. His would not be -a personal triumph now, if he won. - -Court adjourned that evening with the jury-box filled. The State's -friends were feeling pretty good about it. Langford made his way into -the bar where Gordon was standing apart. He passed an arm affectionately -over his friend's shoulder. - -"You were inspired, Dick," he said. "Keep on the same as you have begun -and we shall have everything our own way." - -But the fire had died down in the young lawyer's bearing. - -"I'm tired, Paul, dead tired," he said, wearily. "I wish it were over." - -"Come to supper--then you'll feel better. You're tired out. It is a tough -strain, isn't it?" he said, cheerily. He was not afraid. He knew the -fire would burn the brighter again when there was need of it--in the -morning. - -They passed out of the bar together. At the hotel, Mary and Louise were -already seated at the table in the dining-room where the little party -usually sat together when it was possible to do so. Judge Dale had not -yet arrived. The landlady was in a worried dispute with Red Sanderson -and a companion. The men were evidently cronies. They had their eyes on -two of the three vacant places at the table. - -"But I tell you these places are taken," persisted the landlady, who -served as head-waitress when such services were necessary, which was not -often. Her patrons usually took and held possession of things at their -own sweet will. - -"You bet they are," chimed in Red, deliberately pulling out a chair next -to Louise, who shivered in recognition. - -"Please--" she began, in a small voice, but got no farther. Something in -his bold, admiring stare choked her into silence. - -"You're a mighty pretty girl, if you are a trottin' round with the Three -Bars," he grinned. "Plenty time to change your live--" - -"Just move on, will you," said Gordon, curtly, coming up at that moment -with Langford and shoving him aside with unceremonious brevity. "This is -my place." He sat down quietly. - -"You damned upstart," blustered Sanderson. "Want a little pistol play, -do you?" - -"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" implored the landlady. - -"I'm not entering any objection," said Gordon, coolly. "Just shoot--why -don't you? You have the drop on me." - -For a moment it looked as if Sanderson would take him at his word and -meet this taunt with instant death for the sender of it, so black was -his anger. But encountering Langford's level gaze, he read something -therein, shrugged his shoulders, replaced his pistol, and sauntered off -with his companion just as Judge Dale came upon the scene. Langford -glanced quickly across the table at Mary. Her eyes were wide with -startled horror. She, too, had seen. Just above Red Sanderson's temple -and extending from the forehead up into the hair was an ugly scar--not -like that left by a cut, but as if the flesh might have been deeply -bruised by some blunt weapon. - -"Mary! How pale you are!" cried Louise, in alarm. - -"I'm haunted by that man," she continued, biting her lip to keep from -crying out against the terrors of this country. "He's always showing up -in unexpected places. I shall die if I ever meet him alone." - -"You need not be afraid," said Gordon, speaking quietly from his place -at her side. Louise flashed him a swift, bewildering smile of gratitude. -Then she remembered she had a grievance against him and she stiffened. -But then the feel of his arms came to her--the feel that she had scarcely -been conscious of yesterday when the dark water lay at her feet,--and she -blushed, and studied her plate diligently. - -Under this cover, the young ranchman comforted Mary, whom the others had -temporarily forgotten, with a long, caressing look from his handsome -eyes that was a pledge of tireless vigilance and an unforgetting -watchfulness of future protection. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE TRIAL - - -The next morning, every available seat was filled early. People had -blocked the rough plank walks leading to the court-house long before the -doors were unlocked. The day promised to be fine, and the many teams -coming and going between Kemah and the river to pick up the Velpen -people who had crossed the ice on foot gave to the little town somewhat -of the gala appearance of fair time. The stately and blanketed Sioux -from their temporary camps on the flat were standing around, -uncommunicative, waiting for proceedings to begin. Long before the -judicial party had arrived from the hotel, the cramped room was crowded -to its limits. There was loud talking, laughing, and joking. Local wits -amused themselves and others by throwing quips at different members of -the county bar or their brethren from across the river, as they walked -to their places inside the railings with the little mannerisms that were -peculiar to each. Some swaggered with their importance; others bore -themselves with a ludicrous and exaggerated dignity; while a refreshing -few, with absolute self-unconsciousness, sat down for the work in hand. -The witty cowboys, restrained by no bothersome feelings of delicacy, -took off every one in running asides that kept the room in uproar. Men -who did not chew tobacco ate peanuts. - -The door in the rear of the bar opened and Judge Dale entered. A -comparative quiet fell upon the people. He mounted to his high bench. -The clerk came in, then the court reporter. She tossed her note books on -the table, leisurely pulled off her gloves and took her place, examining -the ends of her pencils with a critical eye. It would be a busy day for -the "gal reporter." Then Langford came shoving his way down the crowded -aisle with a sad-faced, brown-eyed, young woman in his wake, who yet -held herself erect with a proud little tilt to her chin. There was not -an empty seat outside the bar. Louise motioned, and he escorted Mary to -a place within and sat down beside her. The jurymen were all in their -chairs. Presently came in Gordon with his quiet, self-reliant manner. -Langford had been right. The County Attorney was not tired to-day. - -Shortly after Gordon came Small--Small, the dynamic, whose explosives had -so often laid waste the weak and abortive independent reasoning powers -of "Old Necessity" and his sort, and were the subject of much satire and -some admiration when the legal fraternity talked "shop." As he strode to -his place, he radiated bombs of just and telling wrath. He scintillated -with aggressiveness. With him came Jesse Black, easy and disdainful as -of old. After them, a small man came gliding in with as little commotion -as if he were sliding over the floor of a waxed dancing hall in -patent-leather pumps. He was an unassuming little man with quick, -cat-like movements which one lost if one were not on the alert. When he -had slipped into a chair next to his associate, Small, the inflammable -Small, towered above him head and shoulders. - -"Every inch the criminal," audibly observed a stranger, an Englishman -over to invest in lands for stocking a horse ranch. "Strange how they -always wear the imprint on their faces. No escaping it. I fancy that is -what the Scriptures meant by the mark of Cain." - -The remark was addressed to no one in particular, but it reached the -ears of Jim Munson, who was standing near. - -"Good Lord, man!" he said, with a grin, "that's the plumb smartest -criminal lawyer in the hull county. That's a fac'. Lord, Lord! Him Jesse -Black?" - -His risibilities continued to thus get the better of his gravity at -frequent intervals during the day. He never failed to snort aloud in -pure delight whenever he thought of it. What a tale for the boys when he -could get to them! - -"These cattle men!" This time the tenderfoot communicated with -himself--he had a square chin and a direct eye; there were possibilities -in him. "Their perverted sense of the ridiculous is diabolical." - -There were others who did not know the little man. He hailed from the -southern part of the State. But Gordon knew him. He knew he was pitted -against one of the sharpest, shrewdest men of his day. - -"Gentlemen, I think we are ready," said the Judge, and the game was on -again. - -The State called Paul Langford, its principal witness in default of -Williston. - -"Your name, place of residence, and business?" asked the counsel for the -State. - -"Paul Langford. I reside in Kemah County, and I own and operate a cattle -ranch." - -After Langford had clearly described and identified the animal in -question, Gordon continued: - -"Mr. Langford, when did you first miss this steer?" - -"On the fifteenth day of July last." - -"How did you happen to miss this steer?" - -"My attention was called to the fact that an animal answering this -description and bearing my brand had been seen under suspicious -detention." - -"Prior to information thus received, you were not aware this creature -had either strayed away or been stolen?" - -"I was not." - -"Who gave you this information, Mr. Langford?" - -"George Williston of the Lazy S." - -"Now you may tell the jury in what words Williston told you about the -steer he saw." - -This, of course, was objected to and the objection was sustained by the -court, as Gordon knew it would be. He only wanted the jury to remember -that Williston could have told a damaging story had he been here, and -also to remember how mysteriously this same Williston had disappeared. -He could not have Williston or Williston's story, but he might keep an -impression ever before these twelve men that there was a story--he knew -it and they knew it,--a story of which some crotchet of the law forbade -the telling. - -"What did you do after your attention had been called to the suspicious -circumstances of the steer's detention?" - -"I informed my boys of what I had heard, and sent them out to look for -the steer." - -"That same day?" - -"Yes." - -"Were they successful?" - -"No." - -"Did this steer have a particular stamping ground?" - -"He did." - -"Where was that?" - -"He always ranged with a bunch on what we call the home range." - -"Near the ranch house?" - -"Within half a mile." - -"Did you look for him yourself?" - -"I did." - -"He was not on this home grazing ground?" - -"He was not." - -"Did you look elsewhere for him?" - -"We did." - -"Where?" - -"We rode the free ranges for several days--wherever any of my cattle held -out." - -"How many days did you say you rode?" - -"Why, we continued to look sharp until my boy, Munson, found him the day -before the preliminary at the Velpen stock-yards, on the point of being -shipped to Sioux City." - -"You went to Velpen to identify this steer?" - -"I did." - -"It was your steer?" - -"Yes." - -"The same for which you had been searching so long?" - -"The very same." - -"It was wearing your brand?" - -"It was not." - -"What brand was it wearing?" - -"J R." - -"Where was it?" - -"On the right hip." - -"Where do you usually put your brand, Mr. Langford?" - -"On the right hip." - -"Do you always brand your cattle there?" - -"Always." - -"Do you know any J R outfit?" - -"I do not." - -Gordon nodded to Small. His examination had been straightforward and to -the point. He had drawn alert and confident answers from his witness. -Involuntarily, he glanced at Louise, who had not seemed to be working at -all during this clean-cut dialogue. She flashed a fleeting smile at him. -He knew he was out of sympathy with the great majority of the people -down there in front. He did not seem to care so much now. A great -medicine is a womanly and an understanding smile. It flushed his face a -bit, too. - -Langford was most unsatisfactory under cross-examination. He never -contradicted himself, and was a trifle contemptuous of any effort to -tangle him up in threads of his own weaving. The little man touched -Small on the arm and whispered to him. - -"Mr. Langford," said Small, in a weighty voice, "you travel a great -deal, I believe?" - -"I do." - -"For pleasure, maybe?" with a mysterious inflection. - -"Partly." - -"Business as well?" - -"Business as well." - -"Just prior to the arrest of the defendant," insinuatingly, "you were -away?" - -"How long prior do you mean?" - -"Say a week." - -"No." - -"Two weeks?" - -"Yes." - -"You had been away some time?" - -"The better part of a year," confessed Langford, with engaging candor. - -"Yes. Now, Mr. Langford, I should like you to tell me about how many -cattle you range--in round numbers." - -"About five thousand head." - -"Yes. Now, Mr. Langford, you who count your cattle by the thousands, on -your own sworn word you have been out of the country a year. Don't you -think you are asking this jury to swallow a pretty big mouthful when you -ask them to believe that you could so unmistakably distinguish this one -poor ornery steer, who has so little to distinguish him from thousands -of others?" - -"I have owned that spotted steer for years," said Langford, composedly. -"I have never sold him because he was rather an odd creature and so -cantankerous that we dubbed him the Three Bars mascot." - -Gordon called Jim Munson. - -"What is your name?" - -"Gosh!" - -The question was unexpected. Was there any one in the county who did not -know Jim Munson? And Dick Gordon of all people! Then he remembered that -the Boss had been asked the same question, so it must be all right. But -the ways of the court were surely mysterious and ofttimes foolish. - -"Jim Munson. Jim Munson's my name--yep." - -Gordon smiled. - -"You needn't insist on it, Mr. Munson," he advised. "We know it now. -Where do you live?" - -"Hellity damn! I live at the Three Bars ranch." - -"In Kemah County?" - -"It sure is." - -"What is your business, Mr. Munson?" - -"Jim's shorter, Dick. Well, I work for the Boss, Mr. Paul Langford." - -"In what capacity?" - -"If you mean what do I do, why, I ride the range, I punch cows, I always -go on the round-up, I'm a fair bronco-breaker and I make up bunks and -clean lamp chimblies between times," he recited, glibly, bound to be -terse yet explicit, by advice of the Boss. - -There was a gale of laughter in the bar. Even the Court smiled. - -"Oh, Jim! Jim! You have perjured yourself already!" murmured the Boss. -"Clean lamp chimneys--ye gods!" - -"Well, grin away!" exploded Jim, his quick ire rising. He had forgotten -that Judge Dale's court was not like Justice McAllister's. His fingers -fairly itched to draw a pistol and make the scoffers laugh and dance to -a little music of his own. But something in Gordon's steady though -seemingly careless gaze brought him back to the seriousness of the scene -they were playing--without guns. - -The examination proceeded. The air was getting stifling. Windows were -thrown open. Damp-looking clouds had arisen from nowhere seemingly and -spread over the little prairie town, over the river and the hills. It -was very warm. Weather-seasoned inhabitants would have predicted storm -had they not been otherwise engaged. There was no breath of air -stirring. Mrs. Higgins had said it was a sorry day for the cattle when -the river was running in December. Others had said so and so believed, -but people were not thinking of the cattle now. One big-boned, -long-horned steer held the stage alone. - -The State proceeded to Munson's identification of the steer in question. -After many and searching questions, Gordon asked the witness: - -"Jim, would you be willing to swear that the steer you had held over at -the stock-yards was the very same steer that was the mascot of the Three -Bars ranch?" - -This was Jim's big opportunity. - -"Know Mag? Swear to Mag? Dick, I would know Mag ef I met him on the -golden streets of the eternal city or ef my eyes was full o' soundin' -cataracts! Yep." - -"I am not asking such an impossible feat, Mr. Munson," cut in Gordon, -nettled by the digressions of one of his most important witnesses. -"Answer briefly, please. Would you be willing to swear?" - -Jim was jerked back to the beaten track by the sharp incision of -Gordon's rebuke. No, this was indeed not Jimmie Mac's court. - -"Yep," he answered, shortly. - -Billy Brown was called. After the preliminary questions, Gordon said to -him: - -"Now, Mr. Brown, please tell the jury how you came into possession of -the steer." - -"Well, I was shippin' a couple o' car loads to Sioux City, and I was -drivin' the bunch myself with a couple o' hands when I meets up with -Jesse Black here. He was herdin' a likely little bunch o' a half dozen -or so--among 'em this spotted feller. He said he wasn't shippin' any this -Fall, but these were for sale--part of a lot he had bought from Yellow -Wolf. So the upshot of the matter was, I took 'em off his hands. I was -just lackin' 'bout that many to make a good, clean, two cars full." - -"You took a bill-of-sale for them, of course, Mr. Brown?" - -"I sure did. I'm too old a hand to buy without a bill-o'-sale." - -The document was produced, marked as an exhibit, and offered in -evidence. - -The hearing of testimony for the State went on all through that day. It -was late when the State rested its case--so late that the defence would -not be taken up until the following day. It was all in--for weal or for -woe. In some way, all of the State's witnesses--with the possible -exception of Munson, who would argue with the angel Gabriel at the last -day and offer to give him lessons in trumpet blowing--had been imbued -with the earnest, honest, straightforward policy of the State's counsel. -Gordon's friends were hopeful. Langford was jubilant, and he believed in -the tolerable integrity of Gordon's hard-won jury. Gordon's presentation -of the case thus far had made him friends; fickle friends maybe, who -would turn when the wind turned--to-morrow,--but true it was that when -court adjourned late in the afternoon, many who had jeered at him as a -visionary or an unwelcome meddler acknowledged to themselves that they -might have erred in their judgment. - -As on the previous night, Gordon was tired. He walked aimlessly to a -window within the bar and leaned against it, looking at the still, -oppressive, cloudy dampness outside, with the early December darkness -coming on apace. Lights were already twinkling in kitchens where -housewives were busy with the evening meal. - -"Well, Dick," said Langford, coming up cheery and confident. - -"Well, Paul, it's all in." - -"And well in, old man." - -"I--don't know, Paul. I hope so. That quiet little man from down country -has not been much heard from, you know. I am afraid, a moral uplift -isn't my stunt. I'm tired! I feel like a rag." - -Langford was called away for a moment. When he returned, Gordon was -gone. He was not at supper. - -"He went away on his horse," explained Louise, in answer to Langford's -unspoken question. "I saw him ride into the country." - -When the party separated for the night, Gordon had not yet returned. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -GORDON RIDES INTO THE COUNTRY - - -Gordon rode aimlessly out of the little town with its twinkling lights. -He did not care where he went or what direction he pursued. He wanted to -ride off a strange, enervating dejection that had laid hold of him the -moment his last testimony had gone in. It all seemed so pitifully -inadequate--without Williston,--now that it was all in. Why had he -undertaken it? It could only go for another defeat counted against him. -Though what was one defeat more or less when there had been so many? It -would be nothing new. Was he not pursuing merely the old beaten trail? -Why should the thought weigh so heavily now? Can a man never attain to -that higher--or lower, which is it?--altitude of strifeless, unregretful -hardness? Or was it, he asked himself in savage contempt of his -weakness, that, despite all his generous and iron clad resolutions, he -had secretly, unconsciously perhaps, cherished a sweet, shy, little -reservation in his inmost heart that maybe--if he won out-- - -"You poor fool," he said, aloud, with bitter harshness. - -Suppose he did. A brave specimen, he, if he had the shameful egoism to -ask a girl--a girl like Louise--a gentle, highbred, protected, cherished -girl like that--to share this new, bleak, rough life with him. But the -very sweetness of the thought of her doing it made him gasp there in the -darkness. How stifling the air was! He lifted his hat. It was hard to -breathe. It was like the still oppressiveness preceding an electrical -storm. His mare, unguided, had naturally chosen the main travelled trail -and kept it. She followed the mood of her master and walked leisurely -along while the man wrestled with himself. - -If he really possessed the hardihood to ask Louise to do this for -him, she would laugh at him. Stay! That was a lie--a black lie. She -would not laugh--not Louise. She was not of that sort. Rather would -she grieve over the inevitable sadness of it. If she laughed, he could -bear it better--he had good, stubborn, self-respecting blood in him,--but -she would not laugh. And all the rest of his long life must be spent in -wishing--wishing--if it could have been! But he would never ask her to do -it. Not even if the impossible came to pass. It was a hard country on -women, a hard, treeless, sun-seared, unkindly country. Men could stand -it--fight for its future; but not women like Louise. It made men as well -as unmade them. And after all it did not prove to be the undoing of men -so much as it developed in them the perhaps hitherto hidden fact that -they were already wanting. These latent, constitutional weaknesses thus -laid bare, the bad must for a while prevail--bad is so much noisier than -good. But this big, new country with its infinite possibilities--give it -time--it would form men out of raw material and make over men mistakenly -made when that was possible, or else show the dividing line so clearly -that the goats might not herd with the sheep. Some day, it would be fit -for women--like Louise. Not now. Much labor and sorrow must be lived -through; there must be many mistakes, many experiments tried, there must -be much sacrifice and much refining, and many must fall and lose in the -race before its big destiny be worked out and it be fit for women--like -Louise. Down in the southern part of the State, and belonging to it, a -certain big barred building sheltered many women, when the sun of the -treeless prairies and the gazing into the lonesome distances surrounding -their homesteads seeped into their brains and stayed there so that they -knew not what they did. There were trees there and fountains and restful -blue-grass in season, and flowers, flowers, flowers--but these came too -late for most of the women. - -Louise was not of that sort. The roughness and the loneliness would -simply wear her away and she would die--smiling to the last. What leering -fate had led her hither to show him what he had missed by choosing as he -had chosen to throw himself into the thankless task of preparing a new -country for--a future generation? This accomplished, she would flit -lightly away and never know the misery she had left behind or the flavor -and zest she had filched from the work of one man, at least, who had -entered upon it with lofty ambition, high hopes, and immutable purpose. -What then would he have wished? That she had not come at all? - -He smiled. If Louise could have seen that smile, or the almost dewy -softness which stole into his eyes--the eyes that were too keen for -everyday living! That he loved her was the one thing in life worth -while. Then why rail at fate? If he had not chosen as he had, he should -never have known Louise. He must have gone through life without that -dear, exquisite, solemn sense of her--in his arms--those arms to which it -had been given to draw her back from a cruel death. That fulfilment was -his for all time. How sweet she was! He seemed to feel again the soft -pressure of her clinging arms,--remembering how his lips had brushed her -fair hair. If it had been Langford, now, who was guilty of so ridiculous -a sentimentalism--the bold, impetuous, young ranchman--he smiled at -himself whimsically. Then he pulled himself together. He did not think -the jury could believe the story Jesse Black would trump up, no matter -how plausible it was made to sound. He felt more like himself,--in better -condition to meet those few but staunch friends of his from whom he had -so summarily run away,--stronger to meet--Louise. Man-like, now that he -was himself again, he must know the time. He struck a match. - -"Why, Lena, old girl, we've been taking our time, haven't we? They are -likely through supper, but maybe I can wheedle a doughnut out of the -cook." - -The match burned out. Not until he had tossed it away did it come to him -that they were no longer on the main trail. - -"Now, that's funny, old girl," he scolded. "What made you be so -unreasonable? Well, we started with our noses westward, so you must have -wandered into the old Lazy S branch trail. Though, to be sure, it has -been such a deuce of a while since we travelled it that I wonder at you, -Lena. Well, we'll just jog back. What's the matter now, silly?" - -His mare had shied. He turned her nose resolutely, domineeringly, back -toward the spot objected to. - -"I can't see what you're scared at, but we'll just investigate and show -you how foolish a thing is feminine squeamishness." - -A shadowy form arose out of the darkness. It approached. - -"Is that you, Dick?" - -Gordon was not a superstitious man, yet he felt suddenly cold to the -crown of his head. It was not so dark as it might have been. There would -have been a moon had it not been cloudy. Dimly, he realized that the man -had arisen from the ruins of what must have been the old Williston -homestead. The outlines of the stone stoop were vaguely visible in the -half light. The solitary figure had been crouched there, brooding. - -"I'm flesh and blood, Dick, never fear," said the man in a mournful -voice. "I'm hungry enough to vouch for that. You needn't be afraid. I'm -anything but a spirit." - -"Williston!" The astonished word burst from Gordon's lips. "Williston! -Is it really you?" - -"None other, my dear Gordon! Sorry I startled you. I saw your light and -heard your voice speaking to your horse, and as you were the very man I -was on the point of seeking, I just naturally came forward, forgetting -that my friends would very likely look upon me in the light of a ghost." - -"Williston! My dear fellow!" repeated Gordon again. "It is too good to -be true," he cried, leaping from his mare and extending both hands -cordially. "Shake, old man! My, the feel of you is--bully. You are flesh -and blood all right. You always did have a good, honest shake for a -fellow. I don't know, though. Seems to me you have been kind o' running -to skin and bones since I last saw you. Grip's good, but bony. You're -thinner than ever, aren't you?" - -All this time he was shaking Williston's hands heartily. He never -thought of asking him where he had been. For weary months he had longed -for this man to come back. He had come back. That was enough for the -present. He had always felt genuinely friendly toward the unfortunate -scholar and his daughter. - -"That's natural, isn't it? Besides, they forgot my rations sometimes." - -"Who, Williston?" asked Gordon, the real significance of the man's -return taking quick hold of him. - -"I think you know, Gordon," said the older man, quietly. "It is a long -story. I was coming to you. I will tell you everything. Shall I begin -now?" - -"Are you in any danger of pursuit?" asked Gordon, suddenly bethinking -himself. - -"I think not. I killed my jailer, the half-breed, Nightbird." - -"You did well. So did Mary." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Didn't you know that Mary shot and killed one of the desperadoes that -night? At least, we have every reason to think it was Mary. By the way, -you have not asked after her." - -The man's head drooped. He did not answer for a long time. When he -raised his head, his face, though showing indistinctly, was hard and -drawn. He spoke with little emotion as a man who had sounded the gamut -of despair and was now far spent. - -"What was the use? I saw her fall, Gordon. She stood with me to the end. -She was a brave little girl. She never once faltered. Dick," he said, -his voice changing suddenly, and laying hot, feverish hands on the young -man's shoulders, "we'll hang them--you and I--we'll hang them every -one,--the devils who look like men, but who strike at women. We'll hang -them, I say--you and I. I've got the evidence." - -"Is it possible they didn't tell you?" cried Gordon, aghast at the -amazing cruelty of it. - -"Tell me anything? Not they. She was such a good girl, Dick. There never -was a better. She never complained. She never got her screens, poor -girl. I wish she could have had her screens before they murdered her. -Where did you lay her, Dick?" - -"Mr. Williston," said Dick, taking firm hold of the man's burning hands -and speaking with soothing calmness, "forgive me for not telling you at -once. I thought you knew. I never dreamed that you might have been -thinking all the while that Mary was dead. She is alive and well and -with friends. She only fainted that night. Come, brace up! Why, man -alive, aren't you glad? Well, then, don't go to pieces like a child. -Come, brace up, I tell you!" - -"You--you--wouldn't lie to me, would you, Dick?" - -"As God is my witness, Mary is alive and in Kemah this minute--unless an -earthquake has swallowed the hotel during my absence. I saw her less -than two hours ago." - -"Give me a minute, my dear fellow, will you? I--I--" - -He walked blindly away a few steps and sat down once more on the ruins -of his homestead. Gordon waited. The man sat still--his head buried in -his hands. Gordon approached, leading his mare, and sat down beside him. - -"Now tell me," he said, with simple directness. - -An hour later, the two men separated at the door of the Whites' claim -shanty. - -"Lie low here until I send for you," was Gordon's parting word. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -FIRE! - - -The wind arose along toward midnight--the wind that many a hardened -inhabitant would have foretold hours before had he been master of his -time and thoughts. As a rule, no signal service was needed in the cow -country. Men who practically lived in the open had a natural right to -claim some close acquaintance with the portents of approaching changes. -But it would have been well had some storm flag waved over the little -town that day. For the wind that came slipping up in the night, first in -little sighing whiffs and skirmishes, gradually growing more impatient, -more domineering, more utterly contemptuous, haughty, and hungry, -sweeping down from its northwest camping grounds, carried a deadly -menace in its yet warm breath to the helpless and unprotected cattle -huddled together in startled terror or already beginning their migration -by intuition, running with the wind. - -It rattled loose window-casings in the hotel, so that people turned -uneasily in their beds. It sent strange creatures of the imagination to -prowl about. Cowmen thought of the depleted herds when the riders should -come in off the free ranges in the Spring should that moaning wind mean -a real northwester. - -Louise was awakened by a sudden shriek of wind that swept through the -slight aperture left by the raised window and sent something crashing to -the floor. She lay for a moment drowsily wondering what had fallen. Was -it anything that could be broken? She heard the steady push of the wind -against the frail frame building, and knew she ought to compel herself -sufficiently to be aroused to close the window. But she was very sleepy. -The crash had not awakened Mary. She was breathing quietly and deeply. -But she would be amenable to a touch--just a light one--and she did not -mind doing things. How mean, though, to administer it in such a cause. -She could not do it. The dilapidated green blind was flapping dismally. -What time was it? Maybe it was nearly morning, and then the wind would -probably go down. That would save her from getting up. She snuggled -under the covers and prepared to slip deliciously off into slumber -again. - -But she couldn't go to sleep after all. A haunting suspicion preyed on -her waking faculties that the crash might have been the water pitcher. -She had been asleep and could not gauge the shock of the fall. It had -seemed terrific, but what awakens one from sleep is always abnormal to -one's startled and unremembering consciousness. Still, it might have -been the pitcher. She cherished no fond delusion as to the -impenetrability of the warped cottonwood flooring. Water might even then -be trickling through to the room below. She found herself wondering -where the bed stood, and that thought brought her sitting up in a hurry -only to remember that she was over the musty sitting room with its -impossible carpet. She would be glad to see it soaked--it might put a -little color into it, temporarily at least, and lay the dust of ages. -But, sitting up, she felt herself enveloped in a gale of wind that -played over the bed, and so wisely concluded that if she wished to see -this court through without the risk of grippe or pneumonia -complications, she had better close that window. So she slipped -cautiously out of bed, nervously apprehensive of plunging her feet into -a pool of water. It had not been the pitcher after all. Even after the -window was closed, there seemed to be much air in the room. The blind -still flapped, though at longer intervals. If it really turned cold, how -were they to live in that barn-like room, she and Mary? She thought of -the campers out on the flat and shivered. She looked out of the window -musingly a moment. It was dark. She wondered if Gordon had come home. Of -course he was home. It must be nearly morning. Her feet were getting -cold, so she crept back into bed. The next thing of which she was -conscious, Mary was shaking her excitedly. - -"What is it?" she asked, sleepily. - -"Louise! There's a fire somewhere! Listen!" - -Some one rushed quickly through the hall; others followed, knocking -against the walls in the darkness. Then the awful, heart-clutching clang -of a bell rang out--near, insistent, metallic. It was the meeting-house -bell. There was no other in the town. The girls sprang to the floor. The -thought had found swift lodgment in the mind of each that the hotel was -on fire, and in that moment Louise thought of the poisoned meat that had -once been served to some arch-enemies of the gang whose chief was now on -trial for his liberty. So quickly does the brain work under stress of -great crises, that, even before she had her shoes and stockings on, she -found herself wondering who was the marked victim this time. Not -Williston,--he was dead. Not Gordon,--he slept in his own room back of the -office. Not Langford,--he was bunking with his friend in that same room. -Jim Munson? Or was the Judge the proscribed one? He was not a corrupt -judge. He could not be bought. It might be he. Mary had gone to the -window. - -"Louise!" she gasped. "The court-house!" - -True. The cloudy sky was reddened above the poor little temple of -justice where for days and weeks the tide of human interest of a big -part of a big State--ay, a big part of all the northwest country, -maybe--had been steadily setting in and had reached its culmination only -yesterday, when a gray eyed, drooping-shouldered, firm-jawed young man -had at last faced quietly in the bar of his court the defier of the cow -country. To-night, it would dance its little measure, recite its few -lines on its little stage of popularity before an audience frenzied with -appreciation and interest; to-morrow, it would be a heap of ashes, its -scene played out. - -"My note books!" cried Louise, in a flash of comprehension. She dressed -hastily. Shirt-waist was too intricate, so she threw on a gay Japanese -kimono; her jacket and walking skirt concealed the limitations of her -attire. - -"What are you going to do?" asked Mary, also putting on clothes which -were easy of adjustment. She had never gone to fires in the old days -before she had come to South Dakota; but if Louise went--gentle, -high-bred Louise--why, she would go too, that was all there was about it. -She had constituted herself Louise's guardian in this rough life that -must be so alien to the Eastern girl. Louise had been very good to her. -Louise's startled cry about her note books carried little understanding -to her. She was not used to court and its ways. - -They hastened out into the hallway and down the stairs. They saw no one -whom they knew, though men were still dodging out from unexpected places -and hurrying down the street. It seemed impossible that the -inconveniently built, diminutive prairie hotel could accommodate so many -people. Louise found herself wondering where they had been packed away. -The men, carelessly dressed as they were, their hair shaggy and unkempt, -always with pistols in belt or hip-pocket or hand, made her shiver with -dread. They looked so wild and weird and fierce in the dimly lighted -hall. She clutched Mary's arm nervously, but no thought of returning -entered her mind. Probably the Judge was already on the court-house -grounds. He would want to save some valuable books he had been reading -in his official quarters. So they went out into the bleak and windy -night. They were immediately enveloped in a wild gust that nearly swept -them off their feet as it came tearing down the street. They clung -together for a moment. - -"It'll burn like hell in this wind!" some one cried, as a bunch of men -hurried past them. The words were literally whipped out of his mouth. -"Won't save a thing." - -Flames were bursting out of the front windows upstairs. The sky was all -alight. Sparks were tossed madly southward by the wind. There was grave -danger for buildings other than the one already doomed. The roar of the -wind and the flames was well-nigh deafening. The back windows and stairs -seemed clear. - -"Hurry, Mary, hurry!" cried Louise, above the roar, and pressed forward, -stumbling and gasping for the breath that the wild wind coveted. It was -not far they had to go. There was a jam of men in the yard. More were -coming up. But there was nothing to do. Men shook their heads and -shrugged their shoulders and watched the progress of the inevitable with -the placidity engendered of the potent "It can't be helped." But some -things might have been saved that were not saved had the first on the -grounds not rested so securely on that quieting inevitability. As the -girls came within the crowded circle of light, they overheard something -of a gallant attempt on the part of somebody to save the county -records--they did not hear whether or no the attempt had been successful. -They made their way to the rear. It was still dark. - -"Louise! What are you going to do?" cried Mary, in consternation. There -were few people on this side. Louise put her hand deliberately to the -door-knob. It gave to her pressure--the door swung open. Some one -stumbled out blindly and leaned against the wall for a moment, his hands -over his eyes. - -"I can't do it," he said, aloud, "I can't reach the vaults." - -Louise slipped past him and was within the doorway, closely followed by -the frantic Mary. - -The man cried out sharply, and stretched out a detaining hand. "Are you -crazy? Come back!" - -"Mr. Gordon!" cried Louise, with a little sob of relief, "is it really -you? Let me go--quick--my note books!" - -A thick cloud of smoke at that moment came rolling down the back stairs. -It enveloped them. It went down their throats and made them cough. The -man, throwing an arm over the shoulders of the slender girl who had -started up after the first shock of the smoke had passed away, pushed -her gently but firmly outside. - -"Don't let her come, Mary," he called back, clearly. "I'll get the note -books--if I can." Then he was gone--up the smoke-wreathed stairway. - -Outside, the girls waited. It seemed hours. The wind, howling around the -corners, whipped their skirts. There was a colder edge to it. Fire at -last broke out of the back windows simultaneously with the sound of -breaking glass, and huge billows of released black smoke surged out from -the new outlet. Louise started forward. She never knew afterward just -what she meant to do, but she sprang away from Mary's encircling arm and -ran up the little flight of steps leading to the door from which she had -been so unceremoniously thrust. Afterward, when they told her, she -realized what her impulsive action meant, but now she did not think. She -was only conscious of some wild, vague impulse to fly to the help of the -man who would even now be safe in blessed outdoors had it not been for -her and her foolish woman's whim. She had sent him to his death. What -were those wretched note books--what was anything at all in comparison to -his life! So she stumbled blindly up the steps. The wind had slammed the -door shut. It was a cruel obstacle to keep her back. She wrenched it -open. The clouds of smoke that met her, rolling out of their -imprisonment like pent up steam, choked her, blinded her, beat her back. -She strove impotently against it. She tried to fight it off with her -hands--those little intensely feminine hands whose fortune Gordon longed -to take upon himself forever and forever. They were so small and weak to -fend for themselves. But small as they were, it was a good thing they -did that night. Now Mary had firm hold of her and would not let her go. -She struggled desperately and tried to push her off, but vainly, for -Mary had twice her strength. - -"Mary, I shall never forgive you--" - -She did not finish her sentence, for at that moment Gordon staggered out -into the air. He sat down on the bottom step as if he were drunk, but -little darts of flame colored the surging smoke here and there in weird -splotches and, suddenly calm now that there was something to do, Mary -and Louise led him away from the doomed building where the keen wind -soon blew the choking smoke from his eyes and throat. - -"I've swallowed a ton," he said, recovering himself quickly. "I couldn't -get them, Louise." He did not know he called her so. - -"Oh, what does it matter?" cried Louise, earnestly. "Only forgive me for -sending you." - -"As I remember it, I sent myself," said Gordon, with a humorous smile, -"and, I am afraid, tumbled one little girl rather unceremoniously down -the stairs. Did I hurt you?" There was a caressing cadence in the -question that he could not for the life of him keep out of his voice. - -"I did not even know I tumbled. How did you get back?" said Louise, -tremulously. - -"Who opened the door?" counter-questioned Gordon, remembering. "The wind -must have blown it shut. I was blinded--I couldn't find it--I couldn't -breathe. I didn't have sense enough to know it was shut, but I couldn't -have helped myself anyway. I groped for it as long as I could without -breathing. Then I guess I must have gone off a little, for I was -sprawling on the floor of the lower hall when I felt a breath of air -playing over me. Somebody must have opened the door--because I am pretty -sure I had fainted or done some foolish thing." - -Louise was silent. She was thankful--thankful! God had been very good to -her. It had been given to her to do this thing. She had not meant to do -it--she had not known what she did; enough that it was done. - -"It was Louise," spoke up Mary, "and I--tried to hold her back!" So she -accused herself. - -"But I didn't do it on purpose," said Louise, with shining eyes. "I--I--" - -"Yes, you--" prompted Gordon, looking at her with tender intentness. - -"I guess I was trying to come after you," she confessed. "It was -very--foolish." - -The rear grounds were rapidly filling up. Like children following a -band-wagon, the crowd surged toward the new excitement of the discovered -extension of the fire. Gordon drew a long breath. - -"I thank God for your--foolishness," he said, simply, smiling the smile -his friends loved him for. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -AN UNCONVENTIONAL TEA PARTY - - -As the flames broke through the roof, Langford came rushing up where the -group stood a little apart from the press. - -"Dick! I have been looking for you everywhere," he cried, hoarsely. - -"What's the trouble, old man?" asked Gordon, quietly. - -"I have something to tell you," said Langford, in a low voice. "Come -quick--let's go back to your rooms. Why, girls--" - -"We will go, too," said Mary, with quiet decision. She had caught a -glimpse of Red Sanderson's face through the crowd, and she thought he -had leered at her. She had been haunted by the vague feeling that she -must have known the man who had attempted to carry her off--that dreadful -night; but she had never been able to concentrate the abstract, fleeting -impressions into comprehensive substance--never until she had seen that -scar and glancing away in terror saw that Langford, too, had seen; but -she was not brave enough to lose herself and Louise in the crowd where -that man was. She could not. He had leered at Louise, too, last night at -supper. They could not ask the protection of Gordon and Langford back to -the hotel then, when Langford's handsome, tanned face was white with the -weight of what he had to tell. - -"It will be best," he agreed, unexpectedly. "Come--we must hurry!" - -It was Williston's "little girl" whom he took under his personal -protection, diving up the street in the teeth of the gale which blew -colder every moment, with a force and strength that kept Mary half the -time off her feet. A gentler knight was Gordon--though as manly. All was -dark around the premises. There was no one lurking near. Everybody was -dancing attendance on the court-house holocaust. Gordon felt for his -keys. - -"How good it is to get out of the wind," whispered Louise. This -proceeding smacked so much of the mysterious that whispering followed as -a natural sequence. - -They stepped within. It was inky black. - -"Lock the door," said Langford, in a low voice. - -Gordon complied, surprised, but asking no question. He knew his friend, -and had faith in his judgment. Then he lighted a lamp that stood on his -desk. - -"Why did you do that?" asked Louise, gravely. - -"What?" - -"Lock the door." - -"I don't know," he answered, honestly. "I didn't think you would notice -the click. Ask Paul." - -"I'll explain in a minute," said Langford. He stepped to the windows and -drew the blinds closely. - -"Now that I have you safe," he said, lightly, "I'll confess I had an old -woman's scare. It came to me that as long as you are not, strictly -speaking, on kind and loving terms with--every one west of the river,--and -this being such an all-round nasty night anyway, why, I'd just spirit -you home and give the charged atmosphere a chance of clearing a little." - -Gordon looked at him steadily a moment. His face did not pale. Yet he -knew that Langford had heard--or suspected--more than he intended to -tell--then. It was good to see him shrug his shoulders in unconcern for -the sake of the two white-faced girls who sat there in his stiff office -chairs. - -"You are an old duffer, Paul," he said, in pretended annoyance. "You -treat me like a child. I won't stand it always. You'll see. Some day -I'll rebel--and--then--" - -"Meanwhile, I'll just trot these ladies back to the hotel," said -Langford. "But you must promise to keep your head inside. We're fixtures -until we have that promise." - -"What, lock me up and run off with--all the ladies! I guess not! Why -didn't we round up that way, I'd like to know? This isn't Utah, Paul. -You can't have both." - -Paul meant for him to lie low, then. He was also in a hurry to get the -girls away. Evidently the danger lay here. There was a tightening of the -firm mouth and an ominous contraction of the pupils of the eyes. He -stirred the fire, then jammed a huge, knotted stick into the sheet iron -stove. It seemed as if everybody had sheet iron stoves in this country. -The log caught with a pleasant roar as the draught sent flames leaping -up the chimney. But Paul made no movement to go. Then he, Gordon, had -not understood his friend. Maybe the menace was not here, but outside. -If so, he must contrive to keep his guests interested here. He would -leave the lead to Paul. Paul knew. He went back to his living-room and -returned, bringing two heavy buggy robes. - -"You will find my bachelor way of living very primitive," he said, with -his engaging smile. He arranged the robes over two of the chairs and -pushed them close up to the stove. "I haven't an easy chair in the -house--prove it by Paul, here. Haven't time to rock, and can't afford to -run the risk of cultivating slothful habits. Take these, do," he urged, -"and remove your coats." - -"Thank you--you are very kind," said Louise. "No, I won't take off my -jacket," a spot of color staining her cheek when she thought of her gay -kimono. Involuntarily, she felt of her throat to make sure the muffler -had not blown awry. "We shall be going soon, shan't we, Mr. Langford? If -Mr. Gordon is in any danger, you must stay with him and let us go alone. -It is not far." - -"Surely," said Mary, with a big sinking of the heart, but meaning what -she said. - -"Not at all," said Gordon, decidedly. "It's just his womanish way of -bossing me. I'll rebel some day. Just wait! But before you go, I'll make -tea. You must have gotten chilled through." - -He would keep them here a while and then let them go--with Langford. The -thought made him feel cheap and cowardly and sneaking. Far rather would -he step out boldly and take his chances. But if there was to be any -shooting, it must be where Louise,--and Mary, too--was not. He believed -Paul, in his zeal, had exaggerated evil omens, but there was Louise in -his bachelor rooms--where he had never thought to see her; there with her -cheeks flushed with the proximity to the stove--his stove--her fair hair -windblown. No breath of evil thing must assail her that night--that -night, when she had glorified his lonely habitation--even though he -himself must slink into a corner like a cowardly cur. A strange elation -took possession of him. She was here. He thought of last night and -seemed to walk on air. If he won out, maybe--but, fool that he was! what -was there in this rough land for a girl like--Louise? - -"Oh, no, that will be too much trouble," gasped Louise, in some alarm -and thinking of Aunt Helen. - -"Thanks, old man, we'll stay," spoke up Langford, cheerfully. "He makes -excellent tea--really. I've tried it before. You will never regret -staying." - -Silently he watched his friend in the inner room bring out a battered -tea-kettle, fill it with a steady hand and put it on the stove in the -office, coming and going carelessly, seemingly conscious of nothing in -the world but the comfort of his unexpected guests. - -True to her sex, Louise was curiously interested in the housekeeping -arrangements of a genuine bachelor establishment. Woman-like, she saw -many things in the short time she was there--but nothing that diminished -her respect for Richard Gordon. The bed in the inner chamber where both -men slept was disarranged but clean. Wearing apparel was strewn over -chairs and tables. There was a litter of magazines on the floor. She -laid them up against Langford; she did not think Gordon had the time or -inclination to cultivate the magazine habit. She did not know to whose -weakness to ascribe the tobacco pouch and brier-wood pipe placed -invitingly by the side of a pair of gay, elaborately bead-embroidered -moccasons, cosily stowed away under the head of the bed; but she was -rather inclined to lay these, too, to Langford's charge. The howling -tempest outside only served to enhance the cosiness of the rumbling fire -and the closely drawn blinds. - -But tea was never served in those bachelor rooms that night--neither that -night nor ever again. It was a little dream that went up in flame with -the walls that harbored it. Who first became conscious that the tang of -smoke was gradually filling their nostrils, it was hard to tell. They -were not far behind each other in that consciousness. It was Langford -who discovered that the trouble was at the rear, where the wind would -soon have the whole building fanned into flames. Gordon unlocked the -door quietly. He said nothing. But Paul, springing in front of him, -himself threw it open. It was no new dodge, this burning a man out to -shoot him as one would drown out a gopher for the killing. He need not -have been afraid. The alarm had spread. The street in front was rapidly -filling. One would hardly have dared to shoot--then--if one had meant to. -And he did not know. He only knew that deviltry had been in the air for -Gordon that night. He had suspected more than he had overheard, but it -had been in the air. - -Gordon saw the action and understood it. He never forgot it. He said -nothing, but gave his friend an illuminating smile that Langford -understood. Neither ever spoke of it, neither ever forgot it. How -tightly can quick impulses bind--forever. - -Outside, they encountered the Judge in search of his delinquent charges. - -"I'm sorry, Dick," he said. "Dead loss, my boy. This beastly wind is -your undoing." - -"I'm not worrying, Judge," responded Gordon, grimly. "I intend for some -one else to do that." - -"Hellity damn, Dick, hellity damn!" exploded Jim Munson in his ear. The -words came whistling through his lips, caught and whirled backward by -the play of the storm. The cold was getting bitter, and a fine, cutting -snow was at last driving before the wind. - -Gordon, with a set face, plunged back into the room--already fire licked. -Langford and Munson followed. There sat the little tea-service staring -at them with dumb pathos. The three succeeded in rolling the safe with -all its precious documents arranged within, out into the street. Nothing -else mattered much--to Gordon. But other things were saved, and Jim -gallantly tossed out everything he could lay his hands on before Gordon -ordered everybody out for good and all. It was no longer safe to be -within. Gordon was the last one out. He carried a battered little -teakettle in his hand. He looked at it in a whimsical surprise as if he -had not known until then that he had it in his hand. Obeying a sudden -impulse, he held it out to Louise. - -"Please take care of--my poor little dream," he whispered with a strange, -intent look. - -Before she could comprehend the significance or give answer, the Judge -had faced about. He bore the girls back to the hotel, scolding -helplessly all the way as they scudded with the wind. But Louise held -the little tin kettle firmly. - -Men knew of Richard Gordon that night that he was a marked man. The -secret workings of a secret clan had him on their proscription list. -Some one had at last found this unwearied and doggedly persistent young -fellow in the way. In the way, he was a menace, a danger. He must be -removed from out the way. He could not be bought from it--he should be -warned from it. So now his home--his work room and his rest room, the -first by many hours daily the more in use, with all its furnishings of -bachelor plainness and utility, that yet had held a curious charm for -some men, friends and cronies like Langford--was burning that he might be -warned. Could any one say, "Jesse Black has done this thing"? Would he -not bring down proof of guilt by a retaliation struck too soon? It would -seem as if he were anticipating an unfavorable verdict. So men reasoned. -And even then they did not arise to stamp out the evil that had endured -and hugged itself and spit out corruption in the cattle country. That -was reserved for--another. - -They talked of a match thrown down at the courthouse by a tramp, -likely,--when it was past midnight, when the fire broke out with the wind -a piercing gale, and when no vagrant but had long since left such cold -comfort and had slept these many weeks in sunnier climes. Some argued -that the windows of the court-room might have been left open and the -stove blown down by the wind tearing through, or the stove door might -have blown open and remains of the fire been blown out, or the pipe -might have fallen down. But it was a little odd that the same people -said Dick Gordon's office likely caught fire from flying sparks. Dick's -office was two blocks to westward of the court-house and it would have -been a brave spark and a lively one that could have made headway against -that northwester. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE ESCAPE - - -The little county seat awoke in the morning to a strange sight. The -storm had not abated. The wind was still blowing at blizzard rate off -the northwest hills, and fine, icy snow was swirling so thickly through -the cold air that vision was obstructed. Buildings were distinguishable -only as shadows showing faintly through a heavy white veil. The -thermometer had gone many degrees below the zero mark. It was steadily -growing colder. The older inhabitants said it would surely break the -record the coming night. - -An immense fire had been built in the sitting-room. Thither Mary and -Louise repaired. Here they were joined by Dale, Langford, and Gordon. - -"You should be out at the ranch looking after your poor cattle, Mr. -Langford," said Mary, smilingly. She could be light-hearted now,--since a -little secret had been whispered to her last night at a tea party where -no tea had been drunk. Langford had gravitated toward her as naturally -as steel to a magnet. He shrugged his big shoulders and laughed a -little. - -"The Scribe will do everything that can be done. Honest, now, did you -think this trial could be pulled off without me?" - -"But there can be no trial to-day." - -"Why not?" - -"Did I dream the court-house burned last night?" - -"If you did, we are all dreamers alike." - -"Then how can you hold court?" - -"We have gone back to the time when Church and State were one and -inseparable, and court convenes at ten o'clock sharp in the -meeting-house," he said. - -Louise was looking white and miserable. - -"You are not contemplating running away, are you?" asked Gordon. "This -is unusual weather--really." - -She looked at him with a pitiful smile. - -"I should like to be strong and brave and enduring and capable--like -Mary. You don't believe it, do you? It's true, though. But I can't. I'm -weak and homesick and cold. I ought not to have come. I am not the kind. -You said it, too, you know. I am going home just as soon as this court -is over. I mean it." - -There was no mistaking that. Gordon bowed his head. His face was white. -It had come sooner than he had thought. - -All the records of the work of yesterday had been burned. There was -nothing to do but begin at the beginning again. It was discouraging, -uninteresting. But it had to be done. Dale refused positively to -adjourn. The jurymen were all here. So the little frame church was -bargained for. If the fire-bugs had thought to postpone events--to gain -time--by last night's work, they would find themselves very greatly -mistaken. The church was long and narrow like a country schoolhouse, and -rather roomy considering the size of the town. It had precise -windows--also like a country schoolhouse,--four on the west side, through -which the fine snow was drifting, four opposite. The storm kept few at -home with the exception of the people from across the river. There were -enough staying in the town to fill the room to its utmost limits. -Standing room was at a premium. The entry was crowded. Men not able to -get in ploughed back through the cutting wind and snow only to return -presently to see if the situation had changed any during their brief -absence. So all the work of yesterday was gone over again. - -Mingled with the howl and bluster of the wind, and the swirl and swish -of the snow drifting outside during the small hours of last night, -sometimes had been distinguishable the solemn sound of heavy steps -running--likened somewhat to the tramp of troops marching on the -double-quick. To some to whom this sound was borne its meaning was -clear, but others wondered, until daylight made it clear to all. The -sorry day predicted for the cattle had come. The town was full of -cattle. They hugged the south side of the buildings--standing in stolid -patience with drooping heads. Never a structure in the whole town--house -or store or barn or saloon--but was wind-break for some forlorn bunch -huddled together, their faces always turned to the southeast, for the -wind went that way. It was an odd sight. It was also a pitiful one. -Hundreds had run with the wind from the higher range altitude, seeking -the protection of the bluffs. The river only stopped the blind, onward -impetus. The flat where the camps had been might have been a close -corral, so thickly were the animals crowded together, their faces turned -uncompromisingly with the wind. - -But the most pathetic part of the situation made itself felt later in -the day when the crying need of food for this vast herd began to be a -serious menace. Starvation stared these hundreds of cattle in the face. -Men felt this grimly. But it was out of the question to attempt to drive -them back to the grass lands in the teeth of the storm. Nothing could be -done that day at least. But during the second night the wind fell away, -the snow ceased. Morning dawned clear, still, and stingingly cold, and -the sun came up with a goodly following of sun-dogs. Then such a sight -greeted the inhabitants of the little town as perhaps they had never -seen before--and yet they had seen many things having to do with cattle. -There was little grass in the town for them, but every little dead spear -that had lived and died in the protection of the sidewalk or in -out-of-the-way corners had been ravenously nipped. Where snow had -drifted over a likely place, it had been pawed aside. Where there had -been some grass, south of town and east, the ground was as naked now as -though it had been peeled. Every bit of straw had been eaten from manure -piles, so that only pawed-over mounds of pulverized dust remained. -Garbage heaps looked as if there had been a general Spring cleaning-up. -And there was nothing more now. Every heap of refuse, every grass plot -had been ransacked--there was nothing left for those hundreds of starving -brutes. Many jurors, held in waiting, begged permission to leave, to -drive their cattle home. Whenever practicable, these requests were -granted. The aggregate loss to the county would be enormous if the -cattle were allowed to remain here many more days. Individual loss would -go hard with many of the small owners. The cattle stupidly made no move -to return to the grass lands of their own volition. - -Later in the day, the numbers were somewhat thinned, but things were -happening in the little church room that made men forget--so concentrated -was the interest within those four walls. So close was the pack of -people that the fire roaring in the big stove in the middle of the room -was allowed to sink in smouldering quiet. The heavy air had been -unbearable else. The snow that had been brought in on tramping feet lay -in little melted pools on the rough flooring. Men forgot to eat peanuts -and women forgot to chew their gum--except one or two extremely nervous -ones whose jaws moved the faster under the stimulus of hysteria. Jesse -Black was telling his story. - -"Along toward the first of last July, I took a hike out into the Indian -country to buy a few head o' cattle. I trade considerable with the -half-breeds around Crow Creek and Lower Brule. They're always for -sellin' and if it comes to a show-down never haggle much about the -lucre--it all goes for snake-juice anyway. Well, I landed at John Yellow -Wolf's shanty along about noon and found there was others ahead o' me. -Yellow Wolf always was a popular cuss. There was Charlie Nightbird, Pete -Monroe, Jesse Big Cloud, and two or three others whose mugs I did not -happen to be onto. After our feed, we all strolled out to the corral. -Yellow Wolf said he had bought a likely little bunch from some English -feller who was skipping the country--starved out and homesick--and hadn't -put 'em on the range yet. He said J R was the English feller's brand. I -didn't suspicion no underhand dealin's. Yellow Wolf's always treated me -white before, so I bargained for this here chap and three or four others -and then pulled out for home driving the bunch. They fed at home for a -spell and then I decided to put 'em on the range. On the way I fell in -with Billy Brown here. He was dead set on havin' the lot to fill in the -chinks of the two carloads he was shippin', so I up and lets him have -'em. I showed him this here bill-o'-sale from Yellow Wolf and made him -out one from me, and that was all there was to it. He rode on to Velpen, -and I turned on my trail." - -It was a straight story, and apparently damaging for the prosecution. It -corroborated the attestations of other witnesses--many others. It had a -plausible ring to it. Two bills of sale radiated atmospheric legality. -If there had been dirty work, it must have originated with that renegade -half-breed, Yellow Wolf. And Yellow Wolf was dead. He had died while -serving a term in the penitentiary for cattle-rustling. Uncle Sam -himself had set the seal upon him--and now he was dead. This insinuated -charge he could not answer. The finality of it seemed to set its stamp -upon the people gathered there--upon the twelve good men and true, as -well as upon others. Yellow Wolf was dead. George Williston was dead. -Their secrets had died with them. An inscrutable fate had lowered the -veil. Who could pierce it? One might believe, but who could know? And -the law required knowledge. - -"We will call Charlie Nightbird," said Small, complacently. - -There was a little waiting silence--a breathless, palpitating silence. - -"Is Charlie Nightbird present?" asked Small, casting rather anxious eyes -over the packed, intent faces. Charlie Nightbird was not present. At -least he made no sign of coming forward. The face of the young counsel -for the State was immobile during the brief time they waited for Charlie -Nightbird--whose dark, frozen face was at that moment turned toward the -cold, sparkling sky, and who would never come, not if they waited for -him till the last dread trump of the last dread day. - -There was some mistake. Counsel had been misinformed. Nightbird was an -important witness. He had been reported present. Never mind. He was -probably unavoidably detained by the storm. They would call Jesse Big -Cloud and others to corroborate the defendant's statements--which they -did, and the story was sustained in all its parts, major and minor. Then -the defence rested. - -Richard Gordon arose from his chair. His face was white. His lean jaws -were set. His eyes were steel. He was anything but a lover now, this man -Gordon. Yet the slim little court reporter with dark circles of -homesickness under her eyes had never loved him half so well as at this -moment. His voice was clear and deliberate. - -"Your honor, I ask permission of the Court to call a witness in direct -testimony. I assure your honor that the State had used all efforts in -its power to obtain the presence of this witness before resting its -case, but had failed and believed at the time that he could not be -produced. The witness is now here and I consider his testimony of the -utmost importance in this case." - -Counsel for the defendant objected strenuously, but the Court granted -the petition. He wanted to hear everything that might throw some light -on the dark places in the evidence. - -"I call Mr. George Williston," said Gordon. - -Had the strain crazed him? Louise covered her eyes with her hands. Men -sat as if dazed. And thus, the cynosure of all eyes--stupefied -eyes--Williston of the ravaged Lazy S, thin and worn but calm, natural -and scholarly-looking as of old--walked from the little ante-room at the -side into the light and knowledge of men once more and raised his hand -for the oath. Not until this was taken and he had sat quietly down in -the witness chair did the tension snap. Even then men found it difficult -to focus their attention on the enormous difference this new witness -must make in the case that a few moments before had seemed settled. - -Mary sat with shining eyes in the front row of wooden chairs. It was no -wonder she had laughed and been so gay all the dreary yesterday and all -the worse to-day. Louise shot her a look of pure gladness. - -Small's face was ludicrous in its drop-jawed astonishment. The little -lawyer's face was a study. A look of defiance had crept into the -defendant's countenance. - -The preliminary questions were asked and answered. - -"Mr. Williston, you may state where you were and what you saw on the -fourteenth day of July last." - -Williston, the unfortunate gentleman and scholar, the vanquished cowman, -for a brief while the most important man in the cow country, perhaps, -was about to uncover to men's understanding the dark secret hitherto -obscured by a cloud of supposition and hearsay. He told the story of his -visit to the island, and he told it well. It was enough. Gordon asked no -further questions regarding that event. - -"And now, Mr. Williston, you may tell what happened to you on the night -of the thirtieth of last August." - -Williston began to tell the story of the night attack upon the Lazy S, -when the galvanic Small jumped to his feet. The little lawyer touched -him with a light hand. - -"Your honor," he said, smoothly, "I object to that as incompetent, -irrelevant, and immaterial, and not binding on the defendant." - -"Your honor," interrupted Gordon, with great calmness, "we intend to -show you before we get through that this testimony is competent, and -that it is binding upon the defendant." - -"Was the defendant there?" - -"The defendant was there." - -The objection was overruled. - -So Williston told briefly but to the point the story of the night attack -upon his home, of the defence by himself and his daughter, and of the -burning of his house and sheds. Then he proceeded: - -"Suddenly, some one caught me from behind, my arms were pinioned to my -sides, something was clapped over my mouth. I was flung over a horse and -strapped to the saddle all in less time than it takes to tell it, and -was borne away in company with the man who had overpowered me." - -He paused a moment in his recital. Faces strained with expectancy -devoured him--his every look and word and action. Mary was very pale, -carried thus back to the dread realities of that night in August, and -shuddered, remembering that ghastly galloping. Langford could scarce -restrain himself. He wanted to rip out a blood curdling Sioux war-whoop -on the spot. - -"Who was this man, Mr. Williston?" asked Gordon. - -"Jesse Black." - -Small was on his feet again, gesticulating wildly. "I object! This is -all a fabrication, put in here to prejudice the minds of the jury -against this defendant. It is a pack of lies, and I move that it be -stricken from the record." - -The little lawyer bowed his head to the storm and shrugged up his -shoulders. Perhaps he wished that he, or his associate--one of the unholy -alliance at least--was where the wicked cease from troubling, on the far -away islands of the deep seas, possibly, or home on the farm. But his -expression told nothing. - -"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" expostulated Judge Dale. "Gentlemen! I insist. -This is all out of order." Only one gentleman was out of order, but that -was the Judge's way. Gordon had remained provokingly cool under the -tirade. - -Again the soft touch. Small fell into his chair. He poured himself a -glass of water from the pitcher standing on the attorneys' table and -drank a little of it nervously. - -"I move," said the little lawyer, "that all this touching upon the -personal matter of this witness and having to do with his private -quarrels be stricken out of the evidence as not bearing on the case in -question." - -All in vain. The Judge ruled that it did bear on the case, and Williston -picked up the thread of his story. - -"We rode and rode hard--it must have been hours; daylight was coming -before we stopped. Our horses were spent I had no idea where we were. -From the formation of the land, I judged we were not far from the river. -We were surrounded by bluffs. I can hardly make you see how cleverly -this little retreat had been planned. It was in a valley--one of a -hundred similar in all essential respects. The gulch at the bottom of -the valley was heavily wooded with scrub-oak, cottonwood, woodbine, and -plum-trees, and this tangle of foliage extended for some distance up the -sides of the hills. In the midst of this underbrush--a most excellent -screen--was a tiny cabin. In this tiny cabin I have lived, a closely -watched prisoner, from that day until I escaped." - -The defendant stirred a little uneasily. Was he thinking of Nightbird -with the dark, frozen face--who had not answered to his call? - -"Black left me soon after. He did not unbind me, rather bound me the -tighter. There was no one then to watch me. He deigned to inform me that -he had found it rather inconvenient to kill me after the relief party -rode up, as then there was no absolute surety of his making a clean -get-away, and being caught in the act would be bound to be unpleasant, -very unpleasant just then, so he had altered his plans a little--for the -present. He gave me no hint either that time, nor either of the two -times I saw him subsequently, as to what was to be his ultimate disposal -of me. I could only suppose that after this trial was well over in his -favor, and fear of indictment for arson and murder had blown over--if -blow over it did,--he would then quietly put an end to me. Dead men tell -no tales. The shanty in the gulch did not seem to be much of a -rendezvous for secret meetings. I led a lonely existence. My jailers -were mostly half-breeds--usually Charlie Nightbird. Two or three times -Jake Sanderson was my guard." - -Then from the doorway came a loud, clear, resonant voice, a joyful -voice, a voice whose tones fairly oozed rapture. - -"Hellity damn! The Three Bars's a gettin' busy, Mouse-hair!" - -Judge Dale started. He glared angrily in that direction. - -"Remove that man!" he ordered, curtly. He liked Jim, but he could not -brook this crying contempt of court. Jim was removed. He went quietly, -but shaking his head reproachfully. - -"I never would 'a' thought it o' the Jedge," he murmured, -disconsolately. "I never would 'a' thought it." - -There was a movement in the back of the room. A man was making his way -out, slipping along, cat-like, trying to evade attention. Quietly Gordon -motioned to the sheriff and slipped a paper into his hand. - -"Look sharp," he whispered, his steady eyes on the shifty ones of the -sheriff. "If you let him get away, just remember the handwriting on the -wall. It's our turn now." - -Presently, there was a slight scuffle by the door and two men quietly -left the improvised court-room. - -"Day before yesterday, in the afternoon," continued Williston, "I -managed to knock Nightbird down at the threshold as he was about to -enter. I had secretly worked a cross-beam from the low, unfinished -ceiling. There was nothing else in the room I might use for a weapon. -They were very careful. I think I killed him, your honor and gentlemen -of the jury. I am not sorry. There was no other way. But I would rather -it had been the maker, not the tool. By the time I had made my way back -to the Lazy S, I was too exhausted to go further; so I crawled over to -my neighbors, the Whites, and Mother White made me a shake down. I lay -there, nearly dead, until this morning." - -He leaned back wearily. - -Black stood up. He was not lank nor lazy now, nor shuffling. His body -was drawn to its full height. In the instant before the spring, Mary, -who was sitting close to the attorneys' table, met his glance squarely. -She read there what he was about to do. Only a moment their eyes held -each other's, but it was time enough for a swift message of -understanding, of utter dislike, and of a determined will to defeat the -man's purpose, to pass from the accusing brown eyes to the cruel ones of -the defendant. - -Quick as a flash, Black seized the chair upon which he had been sitting, -sprang clear of the table and his lawyers, and landed close to Mary's -side. With his chair as a weapon, he meant to force his way to the -nearest window. Mary's eyes dilated. Unhesitatingly she seized the -half-emptied glass on the table and dashed the contents of it full into -the prisoner's face. Blinded, he halted a moment in his mad rush. Mary's -quick manoeuvre made Langford's opportunity. He grappled with Black. The -crowd went mad with excitement. - -The prisoner still retained his chair. When Langford grappled with him, -he attempted to bring it down upon the fair head of his antagonist. Mary -gasped with dread, but Langford grasped the chair with one muscular -hand, wrested it from the desperado's hold, and threw it to the floor. -The two men locked in a close embrace. Langford's great strength was -more than sufficient to hold the outlaw until the dazed officers could -do their duty--had he been let alone; but two men, who had been standing -near the door when the prisoner made his unexpected leap for liberty, -had succeeded in worming their way through the excited crowd, and now -suddenly threw themselves upon the ranchman, dragging him back. - -"Stand aside or I'll shoot!" - -It was a girl's voice, clear and firm. Mary had been the first to -realize that Black's friends, not Langford's, had joined in the -struggle. She snatched her revolver from her cowboy belt--she had not -been without either since the Lazy S was burned--and cried out her -challenge. Glancing quickly from the gleaming barrel to the determined -face of the young girl, the men let go their hold of Langford and fell -back precipitately. - -Instantly, Langford sprang forward, but Black had made good use of his -moment of grace. Swinging his arms to the right and left, he had beaten -his way to the window, when Langford again seized him, but he had the -advantage this time and he tore himself loose, throwing Langford -violently against the window-casing. With his bare, clinched fist, he -shivered the glass and leaped out--into the arms of Jim Munson. - -The officers made gallant plunges through the stampeded crowd in their -efforts to get clear of the room to follow the fugitive. But certain men -managed to keep themselves clumsily, but with marvellous adroitness -nevertheless, between the deputies and the doors and windows; so that -several moments elapsed before the outside was finally gained. - -Meanwhile, Jim struggled heroically with the outlaw. Black was far -superior to him in weight and strength of limb, but Jim was quick and -tough and daring. Expelled from the court room, he had been watching -through the window. He had seen Mary's quick action and his Boss's -splendid attack. He had also seen the little "gun play" and his eyes -glowed in admiration of "Williston's little girl," though his generous -heart ached for love of the woman who was not for him. He saw Black -coming. He was ready for him. He grappled with him at once. If the Boss -or the officers would only come now! - -When they did come, they found Jim stretched at length on the frozen -ground. He sat up slowly. - -"You're too late, boys," he said; "the hoss thief was too much for me. -He's gone." - -It was true. The little street stretched before them still--deserted. -Early twilight was coming on. The biting cold struck them broadside. The -deputies scattered in vain pursuit. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE MOVING SHADOW - - -"I'd rather not talk about it to-night. I'm not equal to it. -It's--too--too it's devilish, Paul. I don't seem to be able to grasp it. I -can't think about it with any coherence. I was so sure--so sure." - -Gordon was staring moodily out of the window, one arm hanging idly over -the back of his chair. He had taken up office room in an empty shop -building across the street from the hotel. - -"It's so devilish, it's weird," agreed the ranchman. "But your part was -great. You vanquished Jesse Black. That is more than we hoped for a week -ago. Is it your fault or mine that those fool deputies acted like flies -in tangle-foot and went spraddle-fingered when something was expected of -them? We have nothing to do with a little thing like a broken -windowpane." - -There was an ugly cut on his forehead caused by his violent contact with -the sharp edge of the window casing. He was pale, but he had lost none -of the old faith in himself or in his power to dominate affairs in the -cattle country. Defeat was intolerable to him. He refused to bow his -head to it. To-day's check only made him the more determined, if that -were possible, to free the land of its shame. - -"I'll pull myself together again, never fear," said Gordon. "Just give -me to-night. You see that's not all. I've something else to think about, -too, now that I have time. It takes a fellow's nerve away to have -everything that is worth while drop out at once. But I've rallied -before. I know I'm beastly selfish not to talk to you to-night, but--" - -"Dick," interrupted Langford, bluntly, "did she turn you down?" - -"I never asked her. She is going back--home--next week." - -"If you let her." - -"You don't quite understand, Paul," said Gordon, a little wearily. "She -said she could never live in this country--never. She would die here. -Could I ask her after that? Could I ask her anyway, and be a man? I -know. She would just pine away." - -"Girls don't pine--only in imagination. They are tougher than you give -them credit for." - -"But somehow, Mary seems different," said Gordon, thoughtfully. He -surprised a flush in his friend's cheek. "You deserve her, old man, -you'll be very happy. She is the right kind. I congratulate you with all -my heart." - -An odd lump came into Langford's throat. Despite Gordon's vigorous and -healthful manhood, there seemed always a certain pathos of life -surrounding him. - -"I haven't asked, either," confessed Paul. "But you have made it -possible for me to do so--to-night--to-morrow--whenever I can find a -chance. Take my advice, old man, don't let your girl go. You'll find she -is the kind after all. You don't know her yet." - -Paul left the room, and Gordon paced the narrow confines of his shabby -office--back and forth--many times. Then he threw himself once more into -his chair. The hours were long. He had all night to think about things. -When morning came, all his weakness would be over. No one should ever -again see him so unmanned as Paul had seen him to-night And when Louise -should go--his arms fell nervelessly to the table. He remained thus a -moment, his eyes fixed and unseeing, and then his head dropped heavily -upon his arms. - -Alone in the night, Louise awoke. She found it impossible to fall asleep -again. She was nervous. It must be something in the atmosphere. She -tossed and tossed and flounced and flounced. She counted up to -thousands. She made her mind a blank so often that she flew to thinking -to escape the emptiness of it. Still her eyes were wide and her mind -fairly a-quiver with activity. She slipped out of bed. She would tire -herself into sleep. She even dressed. She would show herself. If she -must be a midnight prowler, she would wear the garments people affect -when they have their thoughts and energies fixed on matters mundane. -Drawing the oil stove close to the window fronting the street, she sank -into a chair, drew a heavy shawl over her shoulders, put her feet on the -tiny fender, and prepared to fatigue herself into oblivion. - -A light shone from the window across the way. He was still at work, -then. He ought not to sit up so late. No wonder he was looking so worn -out lately. He ought to have some one to look after him. He never -thought of himself. He never had time. She would talk to him about -keeping such late hours--if she were not going back to God's country next -week. Only next week! It was too good to be true,--and yet she sighed. -But there was no other way. She ought never to have come. She was not -big enough. He, too, had told her she was not the kind. Doubtless, he -knew. And she didn't belong to anybody here. She was glad she was going -back to where she belonged to somebody. She would never go away again. - -Was that Gordon passing back and forth in front of the window? Something -must be troubling him. Was it because Jesse Black had escaped? But what -a glorious vindication of his belief in the man's guilt had that -afternoon been given! Nothing lacked there. Why should he be sorry? -Sometimes, she had thought he might care,--that day crossing the river -for instance; but he was so reserved--he never said--and it was much, much -better that he did not care, now that she was going away and would never -come back. There was nothing in all the world that could make her come -back to this big, bleak, lonesome land where she belonged to nobody. But -she was sorry for him. He looked sad and lonely. He didn't belong to -anybody here, either, yet he wasn't going to run away as she was. Well, -but he was a man, and men were different. - -And now she noticed that his head had sunk down onto his arms. How still -he sat! The minutes passed away. Still he sat motionless, his face -buried. - -It was dark. The yellow gleam streaming out of the window only served to -make the surrounding darkness denser. The lamp on the table cast a pale -circle immediately in front of the office. There was no other flicker of -light on the street. Into this circle there moved a shadow. It -retreated,--advanced again,--glided back into obscurity. Was it something -alive, or did the moving of the lamp cause the shadows to thus skip -about? But the lamp had not been moved. It burned steadily in the same -position. The relaxed form of the unconscious man was still bent over -the table. Nothing had changed within. Probably some dog locked out for -the night had trotted within the radius of light. Maybe a cotton-tail -had hopped into the light for a second. Louise did not know whether -rabbits ever came into the town, but it was likely they did. It might -have been one of the strayed cattle wandering about in search of food. -That was the most probable supposition of all. Of course it might have -been only her imagination. The little pinch of fright engendered of the -moving shadow and the eerie hour passed away. Her eyes grew pensive -again. How still it was! Had Gordon fallen asleep? He lay so quietly. -Had he grieved himself into slumber as a girl would do? No--men were not -like that. - -Ah! There was the moving shadow again! She caught her breath quickly. -Then her eyes grew wide and fixed with terror. This time the shadow did -not slink away again. It came near the window, crouching. Suddenly, it -stood up straight. Merciful Father! Why is it that a human being, a -creature of reason and judgment, prowling about at unnatural hours, -inspires ten-fold more terror to his kind than does a brute in like -circumstances of time and place? Louise tried to scream aloud. Her -throat was parched. A sudden paralysis held her speechless. It was like -a nightmare. She writhed and fought desperately to shake herself free of -this dumb horror. The cold damp came out on her forehead. Afterward she -remembered that she knew the man and that it was this knowledge that had -caused her nightmare of horror to be so unspeakably dreadful. Now she -was conscious only of the awfulness of not being able to cry out. If she -could only awaken Mary! The man lifted his arm. He had something in his -hand. Its terrible import broke the spell of her speechlessness. - -"Mary! Mary!" - -She thought she shrieked. In reality, she gasped out a broken whisper; -but it thrilled so with terror and pleading that Mary was awakened on -the instant. She sprang out of bed. As her feet touched the floor, a -pistol shot rang out, close by. She had been trained to quick action, -and superb health left no room for cobwebs to linger in the brain when -she was suddenly aroused. She had no need for explanations. The shot was -enough. If more was needed, there was the lighted window across the way -and here was Louise crouched before their own. Swiftly and silently, she -seized her revolver from the bureau, glided to the window, and fired -three times in rapid succession, the reports mingling with the sound of -shattered glass. - -"I think I hit him the second time, Louise," she said, with a dull calm. -"I can't be sure." - -She lighted a lamp and began to dress mechanically. Louise stayed not to -answer. In the hall, she encountered Paul Langford, just as another shot -rang out. - -"Go back, Miss Dale," he cried, hurriedly but peremptorily. "You mustn't -come. I am afraid there has been foul play." - -She looked at him. It hurt, that look. - -"He is dead," she whispered, "I am going to him," and glided away from -his detaining hand. - -He hurried after her. Others had been aroused by the nearness of the -pistol shots. Doors were thrown open. Voices demanded the meaning of the -disturbance. Putting his arm around the trembling girl, Langford -hastened across the street with her. At the door of Gordon's office, he -paused. - -"I will go in first, Louise. You stay here." - -He spoke authoritatively; but she slipped in ahead of him. Her arms fell -softly over the bowed shoulders. Her cheek dropped to the dark, -gray-streaked hair. There was little change, seemingly. The form was -only a little more relaxed, the attitude only a little more helpless. It -seemed as if he might have been sleeping. There was a sound, a faint -drip, drip, drip, in the room. It was steady, monotonous, like drops -falling, from rain pipes after the storm is over. Langford opened the -door. - -"Doc! Doc Lockhart! Some one send Doc over here quick! Gordon's office! -Be quick about it!" he cried, in a loud, firm voice. Then he closed the -door and locked it. In response to his call, footsteps were heard -running. The door was tried. Then came loud knocking and voices -demanding admittance. - -"No one can come in but Doc," cried Langford through the keyhole. "Send -him quick, somebody, for God's sake! Where's Jim Munson? He'll get him -here. Quick, I tell you!" - -He hastened back to the side of his friend and passed his hand gently -over the right side to find the place whence came that heartbreaking -drip. Disappointed in their desire to get in, men crowded before the -window. Louise stepped softly forward and drew the blind between him and -the mass of curious faces without. She was very pale, but quiet and -self-possessed. She had rallied when Langford had whispered to her that -Gordon's heart was still beating. The doctor rapped loudly, calling to -Langford to open. Paul admitted him and then stepped out in full sight -of all, his hand still on the knob. The late moon was just rising. A -faint light spread out before him. - -"Boys," he cried, a great grief in his stern voice, "it's murder. Dick -Gordon's murdered. Now get--you know what for--and be quick about it!" - -They laid him gently on the floor, took off his coat, and cut away the -blood soaked shirts. Louise assisted with deft, tender hands. Presently, -the heavy lids lifted, the gray eyes stared vacantly for a moment--then -smiled. Paul bent over him. - -"What happened, old man?" the wounded man whispered gropingly. It -required much effort to say this little, and a shadow of pain fell over -his face. - -"Hush, Dick, dear boy," said Langford, with a catch in his voice. -"You're all right now, but you mustn't talk. You're too weak. We are -going to move you across to the hotel." - -"But what happened?" he insisted. - -"You were shot, you know, Dick. Keep quiet, now! I'm going for a -stretcher." - -"Am I done for?" the weak voice kept on. But there was no fear in it. - -"You will be if you keep on talking like that" - -Obeying a sign from the doctor, he slipped away and out. Gordon closed -his eyes and was still for a long time. His face was white and drawn -with suffering. - -"Has he fainted?" whispered Louise. - -The eyes opened quickly. They fell upon Louise, who had not time to draw -away. The shadow of the old, sweet smile came and hovered around his -lips. - -"Louise," he whispered. - -"Yes, it is I," she said, laying her hand lightly on his forehead. "You -must be good until Paul gets back." - -"I'm done for, so the rest of the criminal calendar will have to go -over. You can go back to--God's country--sooner than you thought." - -"I am not going back to--God's country," said Louise, unexpectedly. She -had not meant to say it, but she meant it when she said it. - -"Come here, close to me, Louise," said Gordon, in a low voice. He had -forgotten the doctor. "You had better--I'll get up if you don't. Closer -still. I want you to--kiss me before Paul gets back." - -Louise grew whiter. She glanced hesitatingly at the doctor, timidly at -the new lover in the old man. Then she bent over him where he lay -stretched on the floor and kissed him on the lips. A great light came -into his eyes before he closed them contentedly and slipped into -unconsciousness again. - -Langford rounded up Jim Munson and sent him across with a stretcher, and -then ran up stairs for an extra blanket off his own bed. It was bitterly -cold, and Dick must be well wrapped. On the upper landing, he -encountered Mary alone. Something in her desolate attitude stopped him. - -"What's the matter, Mary," he demanded, seizing her hands. - -"Nothing," she answered, dully. "How is he?" - -"All right, I trust and pray, but hurt terribly, wickedly." - -He did not quite understand. Did she love Gordon? Was that why she -looked so heart-broken? Taking her face in his two hands, he compelled -her to look at him straight. - -"Now tell me," he said. - -"Did I kill him?" she asked. - -"Kill whom?" - -"Why, him--Jesse Black." - -Then he understood. - -"Mary, my girl, was it you? Were those last shots yours?" All the -riotous love in him trembled on his tongue. - -"Did I?" she persisted. - -"God grant you did," he said, solemnly. "There is blood outside the -window, but he is gone." - -"I don't like to kill people," she said, brokenly. "Why do I always have -to do it?" - -He drew her to him strongly and held her close against his breast. - -"You are the bravest and best girl on earth," he said. "My girl,--you are -my girl, you know,--hereafter I will do all necessary killing for--my -wife." - -He kissed the sweet, quivering lips as he said it. - -Some one came running up the stairs, and stopped suddenly in front of -the two in the passage. - -"Why, Jim!" cried Langford in surprise. "I thought you had gone with the -stretcher." - -"I did go," said Jim, swallowing hard. He shifted nervously from one -spurred foot to the other. "But I came back." - -He looked at Langford beseechingly. - -"Boss, I want to see you a minute, ef--Mary don't mind." - -"I will come with you, Jim, now," said Langford with quick apprehension. - -"Mary,"--Jim turned away and stared unseeingly down the staircase,--"go -back to your room for a little while. I will call for you soon. Keep up -your courage." - -"Wait," said Mary, quietly. There were unsounded depths of despair in -her voice, though it was so clear and low. "There was another shot. I -remember now. Jim, tell me!" - -Jim turned. The rough cowboy's eyes were wet--for the first time in many -a year. - -"They--hope he won't die, Mary, girl. Your father's shot bad, but he -ain't dead. We think Black did it after he run from Gordon's office. We -found him on the corner." - -Langford squared his broad shoulders--then put strong, protecting arms -around Mary. Now was he her all. - -"Come, my darling, we will go to him together." - -She pushed him from her violently. - -"I will go alone. Why should you come? He is mine. He is all I -have--there is no one else. Why don't you go? You are big and -strong--can't you make that man suffer for my father's murder? Jim, take -me to him." - -She seized the cowboy's arm, and they went out together, and on down the -stairs. - -Langford stood still a moment, following them with his eyes. His face -was white. He bent his head. Jim, looking back, saw him thus, the dull -light from the hall-lamp falling upon the bent head and the yellow hair. -When Langford raised his head, his face, though yet white, bore an -expression of concentrated determination. - -He, too, strode quickly down the stairs. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE OUTLAW'S LAST STAND - - -In the morning the sheriff went to the island. He reported the place -deserted. He made many other trips. Sometimes he took a deputy with him; -more often he rode unaccompanied. Richard Gordon lay helpless in a -burning fever, with Paul Langford in constant and untiring attendance -upon him. George Williston was a sadly shattered man. - -"I met Black on the corner west of Gordon's office," he explained, when -he could talk. "I had not been able to sleep, and had been walking to -tire my nerves into quiet. I was coming back to the hotel when I heard -Black's shot and then Mary's. I ran forward and met Black on the corner, -running. He stopped, cried out, 'You, too, damn you,' and that's the -last I knew until the boys picked me up." - -These were the most interested--Langford, Gordon, Williston. Had they -been in the count, things might have been different. It is very probable -a posse would have been formed for immediate pursuit. But others must do -what had been better done had it not been for those shots in the dark. -There was blood outside Gordon's window; yet Black had not crawled home -to die. He had not gone home at all,--at least, that is what the sheriff -said. No one had seen the convicted man after his desperate and -spectacular exit from the courtroom--no one at least but Louise, Mary, -and her father. Mary's shot had not killed him, but it had saved Richard -Gordon's life, which was a far better thing. It was impossible to track -him out of town, for the cattle had trampled the snow in every -direction. - -The authorities could gather no outside information. The outlying claims -and ranches refuted indignantly any hint of their having given aid or -shelter to the fugitive, or of having any cognizance whatsoever -regarding his possible whereabouts. So the pursuit, at first hot and -excited, gradually wearied of following false leads,--contented itself -with desultory journeys when prodded thereto by the compelling power of -public opinion,--finally ceased altogether even as a pretence. - -One of the first things done following the dramatic day in court had -been to send the officers out to the little shanty in the valley where -the half-breed lay dead across the threshold. A watch was also set upon -this place; but no one ever came there. - -August had come again, and Judge Dale was in Kemah to hear a court case. - -Langford had ridden in from the ranch on purpose to see Judge Dale. His -clothes were spattered with mud. There had been a succession of storms, -lasting for several days; last night a cloud had burst out west -somewhere. All the creeks were swollen. - -"Judge, I believe Jesse Black has been on that island of his all the -time." - -"What makes you think so, Langford?" - -"Because our sheriff is four-flushing--he always was in sympathy with the -gang, you know. Besides, where else can Black be?" - -Dale puckered his lips thoughtfully. - -"What have you heard?" he asked. - -"Rumors are getting pretty thick that he has been seen in that -neighborhood on several occasions. It is my honest belief he has never -left it." - -"What did you think of doing about it, Langford?" - -"I want you to give me a bench warrant, Judge. I am confident that I can -get him. It is the shame of the county that he is still at large." - -"You have to deal with one of the worst and most desperate outlaws in -the United States. You must know it will be a very hazardous -undertaking, granting your surmises to be correct, and fraught with -grave peril for some one." - -"I understand that fully." - -"This duty is another's, not yours." - -"But that other is incompetent." - -"My dear fellow," said the Judge, rising and laying his hand on -Langford's big shoulder, "do you really want to undertake this?" - -"I certainly do." - -"Then I will give you the warrant, gladly. You are the one man in the -State to do it--unless I except the gallant little deputy marshal. You -know the danger. I admire your grit, my boy. Get him if you can; but -take care of yourself. Your life is worth so much more than his. Who -will you take with you?" - -"Munson, of course. He will go in spite of the devil, and he's the best -man I know for anything like this. Then I thought of taking the deputy -sheriff. He's been true blue all along, and has done the very best -possible under the conditions." - -"Very good. Take Johnson, too. He'll be glad to go. He's the pluckiest -little fighter in the world,--not a cowardly hair in his head." - -So it was agreed, and the next morning, bright and early, the little -posse, reinforced by others who had earnestly solicited the privilege of -going along, started out on its journey. The rains were over, but the -roads were heavy. In many places, they were forced to walk their mounts. -No one but the initiated know what gumbo mud means. Until they took to -the hills, the horses could scarcely lift their feet, so great would be -the weight of the sticky black earth which clung in immense chunks to -their hoofs. When they struck the hills, it was better and they pressed -forward rapidly. Once only the sheriff had asserted that he had run -across the famous outlaw. Black had resisted savagely and had escaped, -sending back the bold taunt that he would never be taken alive. Such a -message might mean death to some of the plucky posse now making for the -old-time haunts of the desperado. - -The sun struggled from behind rain-exhausted clouds, and a rollicking -wind blew up. The clouds skurried away toward the horizon. - -At White River ford, the men looked at each other in mute inquiry. The -stream was a raging torrent. It was swollen until it was half again its -ordinary width. The usually placid waters were rushing and twisting into -whirlpool-like rapids. - -"What now?" asked Baker, the deputy-sheriff. - -"I'm thinkin' this here little pleasure party'll have to be postponed," -vouchsafed one of the volunteers, nodding his head wisely. - -"We'll sure have to wait for the cloud-bust to run out," agreed another. - -"Why, we can swim that all right," put in Langford, rallying from his -momentary set-back and riding his mount to the very edge of the swirling -water. - -"Hold on a minute there, Boss," cried Jim. "Don't be rash now. What's -the census of 'pinion o' this here company? Shall we resk the ford or -shall we not?" - -"Why, Jim," said Paul, a laugh in his blue eyes, "are you afraid? What's -come over you?" - -"Nothin'. I ain't no coward neither, and ef you wasn't the Boss I'd show -you. I was just a thinkin' o'--somebody who'd care--that's all." - -Just for a moment a far away look came into the young ranchman's eyes. -Then he straightened himself in his saddle. - -"I, for one, am going to see this thing through," he said, tersely. -"What do you say, Johnson?" - -"I never for one minute calculated on doing a thing else," replied the -deputy marshal, who had been standing somewhat apart awaiting the end of -the controversy, with a good humored smile in his twinkling blue eyes. - -"Good for you! Then come on!" - -Paul urged Sade into the water. He was followed unhesitatingly by -Munson, Johnson, and Baker. The others held back, and finally, after a -short consultation, wheeled and retraced their steps. - -"I ain't no coward, neither," muttered one, as he rode away, "but I -plumb don't see no sense in bein' drownded. I'd ruther be killed a -roundin' up Jesse." - -The horses which had made the initial plunge were already in water up to -their breasts. The current had an ominous rush to it. - -"I don't care. I didn't mean to hold over and let our quarry get wind of -this affair," cried Langford, over his shoulder. "Keep your rifles dry, -boys!" - -Suddenly, without warning, Sade stepped into a hole and lost her balance -for a moment. She struggled gallantly and recovered herself, yet it -weakened her. It was not long before all the horses were compelled to -swim, and the force of the current immediately began driving them down -stream. Sade fought bravely against the pressure. She was a plucky -little cow pony and loved her master, but it was about all she could do -to keep from going under, let alone making much headway against the -tremendous pressure of the current. Langford's danger was grave. - -"Steady, my girl!" he encouraged. He flung his feet free of the stirrups -so that, if she went under, he would be ready to try it alone. Poor -Sade! He should hate to lose her. If he released her now and struck off -by himself, she might make it. He had never known White River to run so -sullenly and strongly; it would be almost impossible for a man to breast -it. And there was Mary--he could never go back to her and claim her for -his own until he could bring Black back, too, to suffer for her father's -wrongs. - -At that moment, Sade gave a little convulsive shudder, and the water -rolled over her head. Langford slipped from the saddle, but in the -instant of contact with the pushing current, his rifle was jerked -violently from his hand and sank out of sight. With no time for vain -regrets, he struck out for the shore. The struggle was tremendous. He -was buffeted and beaten, and borne farther and farther down the stream. -More than once in the endeavor to strike too squarely across, his head -went under; but he was a strong swimmer, and soon scrambling up the bank -some distance below the ford, he turned and sent a resonant hail to his -comrades. They responded lustily. He had been the only one unhorsed. He -threw himself face downward to cough up some of the water he had been -compelled to swallow, and Munson, running up, began slapping him -vigorously upon the back. He desisted only to run swiftly along the -bank. - -"Good for you," Jim cried, approvingly, assisting Langford's spent horse -up the bank. Coming up to the party where Langford still lay stretched -out full length, Sade rubbed her nose inquiringly over the big shoulders -lying so low, and whinnied softly. - -"Hello there!" cried Paul, springing excitedly to his feet. "Where'd you -come from? Thought you had crossed the bar. Now I'll just borrow a gun -from one of you fellows and we'll be getting along. Better my rifle than -my horse at this stage of the game, anyway." - -The little party pushed on. The longer half of their journey was still -before them. On the whole, perhaps, it was better the crowd had split. -There was more unity of purpose among those who were left. The sun was -getting hot, and Langford's clothes dried rapidly. - -Arrived at the entrance of the cross ravine which Williston had once -sought out, the four men rode their horses safely through its length. -The waters of the June rise had receded, and the outlaw's presumably -deserted holding was once more a peninsula. The wooded section in the -near distance lay green, cool, and innocent looking in the late summer -sun. The sands between stretched out hot in the white glare. From the -gulch covert, the wiry marshal rode first. His face bore its wonted -expression of good-humored alertness, but there was an inscrutable glint -in his eyes that might have found place there because of a sure -realization of the hazard of the situation and of his accepting it. -Langford followed him quickly, and Munson and Baker were not far behind. -They trotted breezily across the open in a bunch, without words. Where -the indistinct trail to the house slipped into the wooded enclosure, -they paused. Was the desperado at last really rounded up so that he must -either submit quietly or turn at bay? It was so still. Spots of sunlight -had filtered through the foliage and flecked the pathway. Insects -flitted about. Bumble bees droned. Butterflies hovered over the -snow-on-the-mountain. A turtle dove mourned. A snake glided sinuously -through the grass. Peering down the warm, shaded interior, one might -almost imagine one was in the heart of an ancient wood. The drowsy -suggestions of solitude crept in upon the sensibilities of all the men -and filled them with vague doubts. If this was the haunt of a man, a -careless, sordid man, would this place which knew him breathe forth so -sweet, still, and undisturbed a peace? - -Langford first shook himself free of the haunting fear of a deserted -hearthstone. - -"I'd stake my all on my belief that he's there," he said, in a low -voice. "Now listen, boys. Johnson and I will ride to the house and make -the arrest, providing he doesn't give us the slip. Baker, you and Jim -will remain here in ambush in case he does. He's bound to come this way -to reach the mainland. Ready, Johnson?" - -Jim interposed. His face was flinty with purpose. - -"Not ef the court knows herself, and I think she do. Me and Johnson will -do that there little arrestin' job and the Boss he'll stay here in the -ambush. Ef anybody's a countin' on my totin' the Boss's openwork body -back to Mary Williston, it's high time he was a losin' the count, for I -ain't goin' to do it." - -He guided his horse straight into the path. - -"But, Jim," expostulated Langford, laying a detaining hand on the -cowboy's shoulder, "as for danger, there's every bit as much--and -more--here. Do you think Jesse Black will tamely sit down and wait for us -to come up and nab him? I think he'll run." - -"Then why are you a shirkin', ef this is the worst spot o' all? You -ain't no coward, Boss, leastways you never was. Why don't you stay by -it? That's what I'd like to know." - -Johnson grinned appreciatively. - -"Well, there's always the supposition that he may not see us until we -ride into his clearing," admitted Langford. "Of course, then--it's too -late." - -Jim blocked the way. - -"I'm an ornery, no-'count cowboy with no one in this hull world to know -or care what becomes o' me. There ain't no one to care but me, and I -can't say I'm a hurtin' myself any a carin'! You just wait till I -screech, will you?" - -"Jim," said Langford, huskily, "you go back and behave yourself. I'm the -Boss not you. You've got to obey orders. You've sassed me long enough. -You get back, now!" - -"Tell Mary, ef I come back a deader," said Jim, "that women are -s'perfluous critters, but I forgive her. She can't help bein' a woman." - -He gave his horse a dig with his knee and the animal bounded briskly -forward. - -"Jim! You fool boy! Come back!" cried Langford, plunging after him. - -Johnson shrugged his shoulders, and wheeled his horse into clever -concealment on one side of the path. - -"Let the fool kids go," he advised, dryly. "I'm a lookin' for Jess to -run, anyway." - -The two men rode boldly up toward the house. It seemed deserted. Weeds -were growing around the door stoop, and crowding thickly up to the front -windows. A spider's silver web gleamed from casing to panel of the -warped and weather stained door. The windows were blurred with the -tricklings of rain through seasons of dust. Everything appeared unkempt, -forlorn, desolate. - -There was a sound from the rear. It carried a stealthy significance. A -man leaped from the protection of the cabin and was seen running toward -the barn. He was heavily armed. - -"Stop that, Black!" yelled Langford, authoritatively. "We are going to -take you, dead or alive--you'd better give yourself up! It will be better -for you!" - -The man answered nothing. - -"Wing him with your rifle, Jim, before he gets to the barn," said Paul, -quickly. - -The shot went wild. Black wrenched the door open, sprang upon the -already bridled horse, and made a bold dash for the farther woods--and -not in the direction where determined men waited in ambush. What did it -mean? As his horse cleared the stable, he turned and shot a vindictive -challenge to meet his pursuers. - -"You won't take me alive--and dead, I won't go alone!" - -He plunged forward in a northerly direction. Dimly he could be seen -through the underbrush; but plainly could be heard the crackling of -branches and the snapping of twigs as his horse whipped through the low -lying foliage. Was there, then, another way to the mainland--other than -the one over which Johnson and Baker kept guard? How could it be? How -Langford longed for his good rifle and its carrying power. But he knew -how to use a pistol, too. Both men sent menacing shots after the -fugitive. Langford could not account for the strange direction. The only -solution was that Black was leading his pursuers a chase through the -woods, hoping to decoy them so deeply into the interior that he might, -turning suddenly and straightly, gain time for his desperate sprint -across the exposed stretch of sand. If this were true, Baker and Johnson -would take care of him there. - -Black returned the fire vengefully. A bullet scraped his horse's flank. -His hat was shot from his head. He turned savagely in his saddle with a -yell of defiance. - -"You'll never take me alive!" - -The fusillade was furious, but the trees and branches proved Black's -friends. It was impossible to judge one's aim aright. His horse -staggered. Another bullet sang and purred through the foliage, and the -horse fell. - -"My God, Jim!" cried Langford. "My cartridges are out! Give me your -gun!" - -For answer, Jim sent another bullet whistling forward. Black, rising -from his fallen horse, fell back. - -"I got him!" yelled Jim, exultantly. He spurred forward. - -"Careful, Jim!" warned Langford. "He may be 'playing possum,' you know." - -"You stay where you are," cried Jim. "You ain't got no gun. Stay back, -you fool Boss!" - -Langford laughed a little. - -"You're the fool boy, Jim," he said. "I'll go without a gun if you won't -give me yours." - -They rode cautiously up to the prostrate figure. It was lying face -downward, one arm outstretched on the body of the dead horse, the other -crumpled under the man's breast. Blood oozed from under his shoulder. - -"He's done for," said Jim, in a low voice. In the presence of death, all -hatred had gone from him. The man apparently had paid all he could of -his debts on earth. The body lying there so low was the body of a real -man. Whatever his crimes, he had been a fine type of physical manhood. -He had never cringed. He had died like a man, fighting to the last. - -Jim slowly and thoughtfully slipped his revolver into its holster and -dismounted. Langford, too, sprang lightly from his saddle. - -Black had been waiting for this. His trained ear had no sooner caught -the soft rubbing sound of the pistol slipping into its leathern case -than he leaped to his feet and stretched out the crumpled arm with its -deadly weapon pointing straight at the heart of Langford of the Three -Bars. - -"Now, damn you, we're quits!" he cried, hoarsely. - -There was not time for Jim to draw, but, agile as a cat, he threw -himself against Black's arm and the bullet went wild. For a moment the -advantage was his, and he wrested the weapon from Black's hand. It fell -to the ground. The two men grappled. The struggle was short and fierce. -Each strove with all the strength of his concentrated hate to keep the -other's hand from his belt. - -When the feet of the wrestlers left the fallen weapon free, Langford, -who had been waiting for this opportunity, sprang forward and seized it -with a thrill of satisfaction. Command of the situation was once more -his. But the revolver was empty, and he turned to throw himself into the -struggle empty-handed. Jim would thus be given a chance to draw. - -At that moment, Black twisted his arm free and his hand dropped -like a flash to his belt, where there was a revolver that was loaded. -Jim hugged him closely, but it was of no use now. The bullet tore -its cruel way through his side. His arms relaxed their hold--he -slipped--slowly--down--down. Black shook himself free of him impatiently -and wheeled to meet his great enemy. - -"Quits at last!" he said, with an ugly smile. - -Quits indeed! For Jim, raising himself slightly, was able to draw at -last; and even as he spoke, the outlaw fell. - -"Jim, my boy," said Langford, huskily. He was kneeling, Jim's head in -his arms. - -"Well, Boss," said Jim, trying to smile. His eyes were clear. - -"It was my affair, Jim, you ought not to have done it," said Langford, -brokenly. - -"It's all right--Boss--don't you worry--I saw you--in the hall that night. -You are--the Boss. Tell Mary so. Tell her I was--glad--to go--so you could -go to her--and it would be--all right. She--loves you--Boss--you needn't -be afraid." - -"Jim, I cannot bear it; I must go in your stead." - -"To Mary--yes." His voice sank lower and lower. An added paleness stole -over his face, but his eyes looked into Langford's serenely, almost -happily. - -"Go--to Mary in my stead--Boss," he whispered. "Tell her Jim gave his -Boss--to her--when he had to go--tell her he was glad to go--I used to -think it was 'Mouse-hair'--I am glad it is--Mary--tell her good-bye--tell -her the Three Bars wouldn't be the same to Jim with a woman in it -anyway--tell her--" - -And with a sigh Jim died. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE PARTY AT THE LAZY S - - -Mary stared thoughtfully into the mirror. It was a better one than the -sliver into which she had looked more than a year before, when Paul -Langford came riding over the plains to the Lazy S. A better house had -risen from the ashes of the homestead laid waste by the cattle rustlers. -Affairs were well with George Williston now that the hand of no man was -against him. He prospered. - -Louise stepped to the door. - -"I am in despair, Mary," she said, whimsically. "Mrs. White has ordered -me out of the kitchen. What do you think of that?" - -"Louise! Did you really have the hardihood to presume to encroach on -Mother White's preserves--you--a mere bride of five months' standing? You -should be grateful she didn't take the broom to you." - -"She can cook," said Louise, laughing. "I admit that. I only offered to -peel potatoes. When one stops to consider that the whole county is -coming to the 'house-warming' of the Lazy S, one can't help being -worried about potatoes and such minor things." - -"Do you think the whole county is coming, Louise?" asked Mary. - -"Of course," said Louise Gordon, positively, slipping away again. She -was a welcome guest at the ranch, and her heart was in the success of -to-night's party. - -Mary had dressed early. As hostess, she had laid aside her short skirt, -leather leggings, and other boyish "fixings" which she usually assumed -for better ease in her life of riding. She was clad simply in a long -black skirt and white shirt-waist. Her hair was coiled in thick braids -about her well-shaped head, lending her a most becoming stateliness. - -Would Paul Langford come? He had been bidden. Her father could not know -that he would not care to come. Her father did not know that she had -sent Langford away that long-ago night in December and that he had not -come back--at least to her. Naturally, he had been bidden first to George -Williston's 'house-warming.' The men of the Three Bars and of the Lazy S -were tried friends--but he would not care to come. - -Listen! Some one was coming. It was much too soon for guests. The early -October twilight was only now creeping softly over the landscape. It was -a still evening. She heard distinctly the rhythmical pound of hoof-beats -on the hardened trail. Would the rider go on to Kemah, or would he turn -in at the Lazy S? - -"Hello, the house!" hailed the horseman, cheerily, drawing rein at the -very door. "Hello, within!" - -The visitor threw wide the door, and Williston's voice called cordially: - -"Come in, come in, Langford! I am glad you came early." - -"Will you send Mary out, Williston? I need your chore boy to help me -water Sade here." - -The voice was merry, but there was a vibrant tone in it that made the -listening girl tremble a little. Langford never waited for -opportunities. He made them. - -Mary came to the door with quiet self-composure. She had known from the -first the stranger was Langford. How like the scene of a summer's day -more than a year past; but how far sweeter the maid--how much more it -meant to the man now than then! - -"Father, show Mr. Langford in," she said, smiling a welcome. "I shall be -glad to take Sade to the spring." - -She took hold of the bridle rein trailing to the ground. Langford leaped -lightly from his saddle. - -"I said 'help me,'" he corrected. - -"The spring is down there," she directed. "I think you know the way." -She turned to enter the house. - -For an instant, Langford hesitated. A shadow fell across his face. - -"I want you to come, Mary," he said, simply. "It is only hospitable, you -know." - -"Oh, if you put it in that way--," she started gayly down the path. - -He followed her more slowly. A young moon hung in the western sky. The -air was crisp with the coming frost. The path was strewn with dead -cottonwood leaves which rustled dryly under their feet. - -At the spring, shadowed by the biggest cottonwood, she waited for him. - -"I wish my father would cut down that tree," she said, shivering. - -"You are cold," he said. His voice was not quite steady. He took off his -coat and wrapped it around her, despite her protests. He wanted to hold -her then, but he did not, though the touch of her sent the blood -bounding riotously through his veins. - -"You shall wear the coat I--do not want you to go in yet." - -"But Sade has finished, and people will be coming soon." - -"I will not keep you long. I want you to--Mary, my girl, I tried to kill -Black, but--Jim--" his voice choked a little--"if it hadn't been for Jim, -Black would have killed me. I thought I could do it. I meant to have -you. Jim said it was all the same--his doing it in my stead. I came -to-night to ask you if it is the same. Is it, Mary?" - -She did not answer for a little while. How still a night it was! Lights -twinkled from the windows of the new house. Now and then a dry leaf -rustled as some one, the man, the girl, or the horse, moved. - -"It is the same," she said at last, brokenly. - -Her eyes were heavy with unshed tears. "But I never meant it, Paul. I -was wild that night, but I never meant that you or--Jim should take life -or--or--give yours. I never meant it!" - -His heart leaped, but he did not touch her. - -"Do you love me?" he asked. - -She turned restlessly toward the house. - -"My father will be wanting me," she said. "I must go." - -"You shall not go until you have told me," he said. "You must tell me. -You never have, you know. Do you love me?" - -"You have not told me, either," she resisted. "You are not fair." - -He laughed under his breath, then bent his sunny head--close. - -"Have you forgotten so soon?" he whispered. - -Suddenly, he caught her to him, strongly, as was his way. - -"I will tell you again," he said, softly. "I love you, my girl, do you -hear? There is no one but you in all the world." - -The fair head bent closer and closer, then he kissed her--the little -man-coated figure in his arms. - -"I love you," he said. - -She trembled in his embrace. He kissed her again. - -"I love you," he repeated. - -She hid her face on his breast. He lifted it gently. - -"I tell you--I love you," he said. - -He placed her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips to his, once, -softly. - -"I love you," she whispered. - -"My girl, my girl!" he said in answer. The confession was far sweeter -than he had ever dreamed. He held her cheek pressed close to his for a -long moment. - -"The Three Bars is waiting for its mistress," he said at last, -exultantly. "A mistress and a new foreman all at once--the boys will have -to step lively." - -"A new foreman?" asked Mary in surprise. "I did not know you had a new -foreman." - -"I shall have one in a month," he said, smilingly. "By that time, George -Williston will have sold the Lazy S for good money, invested the -proceeds in cattle, turned the whole bunch in to range with the Three -Bars herds, and on November first, he will take charge of the worldly -affairs of one Paul Langford and his wife, of the Three Bars." - -"Really, Paul?" The brown eyes shone with pleasure. - -"Really, Mary." - -"Has my father consented?" - -"No, but he will when he finds I cannot do without him and when--I marry -his daughter." - -Hoof-beats on the sod! The guests were coming at last. The beats rang -nearer and nearer. From Kemah, from the Three Bars trail, from across -country, they were coming. All the neighboring ranchmen and homesteaders -with their families and all the available cowboys had been bidden to the -frolic. The stableyard was filling. Hearty greetings, loud talking, and -laughter floated out on the still air. - -Laughing like children caught in a prank, the two at the spring clasped -hands and ran swiftly to the house. Breathless but radiant, Mary came -forward to greet her guests while Langford slipped away to put up Sade. - -The revel was at its highest. Mary and Louise were distributing good -things to eat and drink to the hungry cowmen. The rooms were so crowded, -many stood without, looking in at the doors and windows. The fragrance -of hot coffee drifted in from the kitchen. - -Langford stood up. A sudden quiet fell upon the people. - -"Friends and neighbors," he said, "shall we drink to the prosperity of -the Lazy S, the health and happiness of its master and its mistress?" - -The health was drunk with cheers and noisy congratulations. Conversation -began again, but Langford still stood. - -"Friends and neighbors," he said again. His voice was grave. "Let us -drink to one--not with us to-night--a brave man--" in spite of himself his -voice broke--"let us drink to the memory of Jim Munson." - -Silently all rose, and drank. They were rough men and women, most of -them, but they were a people who held personal bravery among the -virtues. Many stood with dimmed eyes, picturing that final scene on the -island in which a brave man's life had closed. Few there would soon -forget Jim Munson, cow-puncher of the Three Bars. - -There was yet another toast Langford was to propose to-night. Now was -the opportune time. Jim would have wished it so. It was fitting that -this toast follow Jim's--it was Jim who had made it possible that it be -given. He turned to Mary and touched her lightly on the shoulder. - -"Will you come, Mary?" he said. - -She went with him, wonderingly. He led her to the centre of the room. -His arm fell gently over her shoulders. Her cheeks flushed with the -sudden knowledge of what was coming, but she looked at him with perfect -trust and unquestioning love. - -"Friends and neighbors," his voice rang out so that all might hear, "I -ask you to drink to the health and happiness of the future mistress of -the Three Bars!" - -THE END - - - - -Popular Copyright Books - -AT MODERATE PRICES - -Any of the following titles can be bought of your bookseller at 50 cents -per volume. - - The Shepherd of the Hills. By Harold Bell Wright. - Jane Cable. By George Barr McCutcheon. - Abner Daniel. By Will N. Harben. - The Far Horizon. By Lucas Malet. - The Halo. By Bettina von Hutten. - Jerry Junior. 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