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diff --git a/42423-0.txt b/42423-0.txt index 1493c45..b0a02ad 100644 --- a/42423-0.txt +++ b/42423-0.txt @@ -1,36 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Justin Wingate, Ranchman, by John H. Whitson - -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: Justin Wingate, Ranchman - -Author: John H. Whitson - -Illustrator: Arthur E. Becher - -Release Date: March 28, 2013 [EBook #42423] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark - - - - - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42423 *** [Illustration: “With a boldness that gripped his throat he slipped his hand along the back of the arbor seat”] @@ -9207,358 +9175,4 @@ BOSTON, MASS. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Justin Wingate, Ranchman - -Author: John H. Whitson - -Illustrator: Arthur E. Becher - -Release Date: March 28, 2013 [EBook #42423] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: "With a boldness that gripped his throat he slipped his -hand along the back of the arbor seat"] - - - - -JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN - -By - -John H. Whitson - -Author of "The Rainbow Chasers," "Barbara, a Woman of the West," etc. - -With Illustrations from Drawings by - -Arthur E. Becker - -Boston - -Little, Brown, and Company - - - - -Copyright, 1905, - -by Little, Brown, and Company. - -All rights reserved. - -Published April, 1905. - -Printers, S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, U. S. A. - - - - -CONTENTS - - BOOK ONE--THE PREPARATION - - CHAPTER I--THE DREAMER AND THE DREAM - CHAPTER II--WINGATE JOURNEYS ON - CHAPTER III--CLAYTON'S VISITORS - CHAPTER IV--SIBYL - CHAPTER V--THE INVASION OF PARADISE - CHAPTER VI--WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG - CHAPTER VII--WILLIAM SANDERS - CHAPTER VIII--AND MARY WENT TO DENVER - CHAPTER IX--A REVELATION OF CHARACTER - CHAPTER X--PIPINGS OF PAN - CHAPTER XI--THE TRAGEDY OF THE RANGE - CHAPTER XII--WITH SIBYL AND MARY - CHAPTER XIII--WHEN AMBITION CAME - CHAPTER XIV--IN THE STORM - CHAPTER XV--A FLASH OF LIGHTNING - CHAPTER XVI--BEN DAVISON'S TRIUMPH - - BOOK TWO--THE BATTLE - - CHAPTER I--COWARDICE AND HEROISM - CHAPTER II--THE HARVEST OF THE FIRE - CHAPTER III--LEES OF THE WINE - CHAPTER IV--IN THE WHIRLPOOL - CHAPTER V--HARKNESS AND THE SEER - CHAPTER VI--THE MOTH AND THE FLAME - CHAPTER VII--THE COMPACT - CHAPTER VIII--THE THRALL OF THE PAST - CHAPTER IX--SANDERS TELLS HIS STORY - CHAPTER X--IN THE CRUCIBLE - CHAPTER XI--FATHER AND SON - CHAPTER XII--CHANGING EVENTS - CHAPTER XIII--IN PARADISE VALLEY - CHAPTER XIV--THE DOWNWARD WAY - CHAPTER XV--MARY'S DESPAIR - CHAPTER XVI--THE WAGES OF SIN - CHAPTER XVII--SHADOWS BEFORE - CHAPTER XVIII--PHILOSOPHY GONE MAD - CHAPTER XIX--SIBYL AND CLAYTON - CHAPTER XX--THE RIDE WITH DEATH - CHAPTER XXI--RECONCILIATION - CHAPTER XXII--THE DREAMS THAT CAME TRUE - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - "With a boldness that gripped his throat he slipped his hand along - the back of the arbor seat" - - "The woman sitting there on her chafing horse stared back at him" - - "Sanders twisted round in his chair and began to draw from his - pocket a grimy memorandum book" - - "Behind them broke a bellowing tumult, as the foremost cattle - began to plunge downward into the caon" - - - - -JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN - - - - -BOOK ONE--THE PREPARATION - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE DREAMER AND THE DREAM - - -Before swinging out of the saddle in front of the little school -house which was serving as a church, Curtis Clayton, physician and -philosopher, looked over the valley which held the story of a romantic -hope and where he was to bury his own shattered dream. The rain of the -morning had cleared away the bluish ground haze, the very air had been -washed clean, and the land lay revealed in long levels and undulating -ridges. Behind towered the mountain, washed clean, too, its flat top -etched against the sky and every crag and peak standing out sharp and -hard as a cameo. - -Clayton's broncho pawed restlessly on the edge of a grass-grown -cellar. All about the tiny cluster of unoccupied houses were other -grass-grown cellars, and the foundation lines of vanished buildings, -marking the site of the abandoned town. Beside the school house, from -which came now the sound of singing, horses were tied to a long -hitching rack. A few farm wagons stood near, the unaccustomed mud -drying on their wheels. - -Clayton dismounted and began to tie his horse. His left arm, stiff and -bent at the elbow, swung awkwardly and gave such scant aid that he -tightened the knot of the hitching strap by pulling it with his teeth. -He was dressed smartly, in dust-proof gray, and wore polished riding -boots. His unlined face showed depression and weariness. In spite of -this it was a handsome face, lighted by clear dark eyes. The brow, -massive and prominent, was the brow of a thinker. Over it, beneath the -riding cap, was a tangle of dark hair, now damp and heavy. When he -spoke to his horse his tones were suggestive of innate kindness. There -were no spurs on the heels of his riding boots, and he patted the -horse affectionately before turning to the door of the church. - -The interior was furnished as a school house. Cramped into the seats, -with feet drawn up and arms on the tops of the desks, sat the few -people who composed the congregation, young farmers and their wives -and small children, with wind-burned, honest faces. Apart from the -others was a boy, whose slight form fitted easily into the narrow -space he occupied. He sat well forward and looked steadily at the -preacher, turning about, however, as all did, when Clayton came in at -the door. - -Clayton's entrance and the turning about of the people to look broke -the rhythmic swing of the hymn, but the preacher, standing behind the -teacher's desk which served as pulpit, lifted his voice, beating the -time energetically with the book he held, and the hymn was caught up -again with vigor. He smiled upon Clayton, as the latter squeezed into -a rear seat, as if to assure him that he was welcome and had disturbed -no one. - -The preacher took his text from the thirty-fifth chapter of Isaiah: - -"The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the -desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom -abundantly, and rejoice even with joy and singing.... Strengthen ye -the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees. Say to them that are of -a fearful heart, 'Be strong, fear not.'" - -Clayton was not greatly interested in the Scripture read, in the -preacher, nor in the people. He had entered to get away from his own -thoughts more than anything else. But, weary of thinking, he tried now -to let the preacher lead him out of himself. - -His attention was caught and held by the application of the text. The -preacher was using it not as a spiritual metaphor, but as a promise to -be fulfilled literally and materially in the near future and in that -place. Looking through the open windows at the level grasslands damp -with the recent rain, he saw the good omen. The desert was there now, -but men should till it and it should blossom as the rose; yellow grain -fields should billow before the breezes that came down from the -mountain; the blue bloom of alfalfa should make of the valley a violet -cup spilling its rich perfume on the air and offering its treasure of -honey for the ravishing of the bee; rice corn, Kaffir corn, and -sorghum should stand rank on rank, plumed, tufted, and burnished by -the sunlight. Paradise--Clayton heard the name of the valley and the -town for the first time--should become as the Garden of God. - -Clayton saw that the man was a dreamer, putting into form the -cherished hopes of the people in the narrow seats before him. A land -boom had cast high its tide of humanity, then had receded, leaving -these few caught as the drift on the shore. The preacher was one of -them; and he looked into their eyes with loving devotion and flushing -face, as he contrasted the treeless valley of the present with the -Paradise of his desire. He was a dreamer who believed his dream and -was trying to make his hearers believe it. - -At first Clayton had observed the outer man standing behind that -teacher's desk; he had noted the shabby, shiny suit of black, -scrupulously clean, the coat much too long and every way too large, -the white neatly-set cravat, and the protruding cuffs, which he was -sure were scissors-trimmed. Now he looked only at the man's face, with -its soft brown beard which the wind stirred at intervals, at the -straight goodly nose, at the deep-set dreamy eyes, and through the -eyes into the mind of the dreamer. - -"The temperament of a seer, of a Druid priest, of a prophet of old!" -was his thought. "He prophesies the impossible; yet by and by some one -may appear who will be able to show that the impossible has had -fulfillment. It has happened before." - -Willing to forget himself further and know more of this man who, it -could be seen, longed for a mental companionship which the members of -his congregation could not give him, Clayton remained after the -services, accepting a pressing invitation to tarry awhile. - -"We do not often have visitors here now," said the preacher, -pathetically. - -So through the hot afternoon they sat together in the preacher's -little home, the one occupied house in the town, while he dilated on -his dream; and as the day grew cool, they walked together by the banks -of the tepid stream and looked at the deserted houses and the blaze of -the sun behind the flat-topped mountain. The boy who had sat so far -forward and given such apparent attention to the sermon walked out -with them. Absorbed in studying the personality of the preacher, -Clayton gave the silent boy little attention. - -As the sun slipped down behind the mountain, throwing pleasant shadows -across the valley, Clayton took his horse from the preacher's stable -and set out for a ride. And as he went the preacher stood in his -doorway, smiling and dreaming his dream. - -From his boyhood, Peter Wingate had been a dreamer. In his college -days the zeal of the missionary was infused into his veins, and the -Far West, which he pictured as a rough land filled with rough and -Godless men, drew him. He had found it poorer than the East, more -direct and simple, more serious and sincere, but not Godless. And he -had come to love it. It was a hopeful, toiling land, rough perhaps, -but as yet unspoiled. - -Then a day came which brought a new interest into his life. A youth -climbed down from a white-topped prairie schooner with a bundle in his -arms and entered the preacher's house. The bundle held a baby, whose -mother had died in the white-topped wagon. As the youth, who was -almost a man in stature, but still a boy in years, told the story of -the child, and placed in Wingate's hands its few belongings, he spoke -of Paradise. At first the spiritual-minded minister thought he -referred to spiritual things, then understood that he was speaking of -a new town, situated in a wonderful valley that widened down from the -mountains. Thenceforth, though the child had not come from this new -town, this new town and its promise became linked in the minister's -mind with the child; and by and by he journeyed to it, when the boy -was well-grown and sturdy and the town had been caught up suddenly in -the whirl of a wild boom. - -He began to preach in the new school house, and organized a new -church; and soon the fiery earnestness and optimism of the boom was -infused into his heart, supplementing the zeal of the missionary. He -no longer saw Paradise as it was, but as he wished it to be. The very -name allured him. He had long preached of a spiritual Paradise; here -was the germ of an earthly one. From rim to rim, from mountain to -mesa, it was, to his eyes, a favored valley, fitted for happy homes. -The town vanished, and the settlers departed, but the dream remained. -The dreamer still saw the possibilities and the beauties--the fruitful -soil, the sun-kissed grassy slopes, the alluring blue mountains. And -the dream was associated with the child; the dreamer, the dream, and -the child, were as one, for had not the child brought to the dreamer -his first knowledge of this smiling land? - -So Wingate remained after the boom bubble broke, encouraging the few -sturdy farmers who clung with fondness to the valley. Even when one by -one the houses, all but those belonging to the town company, were torn -down and borne away, the dream was not shattered. The dreamer became -the agent of the company, charged with the care of the remaining -houses until the dream should reach again toward fulfillment. - -While he waited, the dreamer pictured the joy and devotion with which -he would minister to the spiritual needs of the new people, who would -love him he knew even as he should love them. And thus waiting, he -moved the rounds of his simple life, in the midst of the few, who -rewarded his love and zeal with ever-renewed devotion. Even those who -cared nothing for religion cared for the religious teacher, and came -regularly to hear him preach. - -They could not give much to his support; they had not much themselves, -but he needed so very little. He had his small stipend from the -missionary organization of his denomination, the garden he tended on -the low land by the stream yielded well in the favorable seasons, and -the missionary barrel filled with clothing which some worthy ladies -had sent him from the East two years before had held such a goodly -store of cast-off garments that neither he nor the child, a stout boy -now, had required anything in that line since. The shiny, long-tailed -coat which he kept so scrupulously clean and which was a world too -large for him, and the tight-fitting, ink-spattered sailor suit which -the boy wore, had come from the depths of that barrel, which seemed as -miraculous in its way as the widow's cruse of oil. - -And now, when he had seen no stranger in Paradise for months, and no -new face except when he journeyed once a week to preach in the little -railroad town at the base of the mountain, there had come this -pleasant-voiced man, who spoke well of the prophetic sermon and seemed -able to appreciate the promise and future of the land. - -When Curtis Clayton returned from his ride night had fallen. The Milky -Way had stretched its shining trail across the prairies of the sky, -and the Dipper was pouring the clouds out of its great bowl and -shaking them from its handle. - -Clayton sat looking at the night sky, and as he sat thus the boy came -out to put away his horse. Within the house, Wingate, busy with coffee -pot and frying pan, directed him to the room he was to occupy, and -announced that supper would be ready soon. - -At the end of fifteen minutes the boy tapped on Clayton's door. The -latch had not caught, and the door flew open. The boy stood in -hesitation, looking into the little room, wondering if he had -offended. What he beheld puzzled him. Clayton had been burning letters -in the tiny stove; and beside the lamp on the little table, with -scorched edges still smoking, stood the photograph of a beautiful -woman. Clayton had evidently committed it to the flames, and then -relenting had drawn it back. Turning quickly now, when he heard the -door moving on its hinges, he caught up the photograph and thrust it -hastily into an inner pocket of his coat, but not before the boy had -been given a clear view of the pictured face. - -Wingate talked of his dream, when grace had been said and the supper -was being eaten. The boy thought of the burned letters and of the -scorched photograph showing that alluringly beautiful face, and -wondered blindly. He saw that the stranger was not listening to the -talk of the minister; and observed, too, what the dreamer did not, -that the stranger ate very little, and without apparent relish. Though -he could not define it, and did not at all understand it, something in -the man's face and manner moved him to sympathy. - -For that reason, when, after supper, the minister had talked to the -end of his dream and was about to begin all over again, the boy -slipped away, and returning put a small book into the stranger's -hands. Clayton stared at it, then looked up, and for the first time -saw the boy. He had already seen a face and form and a sailor suit, -but not the boy. Now he looked into the clear open blue eyes, set in -an attractive, wind-tanned face. His features lost their grim sadness -and he smiled. - -"Your son?" he said, speaking to Wingate. - -The dreamer showed surprise. He had already spoken to this man of the -boy. - -"My adopted son, but a real son to me in all but the ties of blood." - -The boy drew open the little Bible he had placed in Clayton's hands. -Some writing showed on the fly-leaf. The boy's fore-finger fell on the -writing. - -"My very own mother wrote those words, and my name there--Justin," he -announced, reverently. - -Clayton looked at the writing, and then again at the boy. The record -on the fly-leaf was but a simple memorandum, in faded ink: - -"Justin, my baby boy, is now six months old. May God bless and -preserve him and may he become a good man." - -A date showed, in addition to this, but that was all; not even the -mother's name was signed. - -"This was in it, too; it is my hair." - -The boy pulled the book open at another place and extracted a brown -wisp. - -"We think it is his hair," said Wingate. "It was found beside the -writing on the fly-leaf." - -Then while the boy crowded close against Clayton's knees, and Clayton -sat holding the open Bible in his hands, Wingate told the story of -this child, who now bore the name of Justin Wingate. - -"The young fellow who brought him to me said there were some papers, -which he had left behind, having forgotten them when he set out, and -that he would fetch them later. But he never came again,--he was only -a boy, and boys forget--and I even failed to get his name, being -somewhat excited at the time, because of the strange charge given to -me, a bachelor minister." - -Clayton read the words over slowly, and looked intently at the boy. - -"It is a good name," he said at length. - -The boy took the book and placed the wisp of hair carefully between -the pages as he closed it. He was still standing close against the -knees of this man, as if he desired to help or comfort him, or longed -for a little of the real father love he had never known. But Clayton, -after that simple statement, dropped into silence. This absence of -speech was not observed by Wingate, who had found in the story of the -boy an opportunity to take up again the narrative of his introduction -to Paradise and his life there since. Yet the boy noticed. His face -flushed slowly; and when Clayton still remained mute and unresponsive, -he slipped away, with a choke in his throat. - -Shortly afterward he said good night to the visitor, kissed the -dreamer on his bearded cheek, and with the Bible still in his hands -crept away to bed. Wingate sat up until a late hour, talking of his -dream, receiving now and then a monosyllabic assent to some prophetic -statement. Having started at last to his room Clayton hesitated on the -threshold and turned back. - -"As you are the agent of the town company you could let one of those -houses, I suppose?" was his unexpected inquiry. - -The face of the dreamer flushed with pleasure. - -"Most assuredly." - -"Then you may consider one of them rented--to me; it doesn't matter -which one. I think I should like to stop here awhile." - -It was one o'clock and the Sabbath was past. Wingate, his dream more -vivid than it had been for months, sat down at his little writing -desk, and in a fever of renewed hope began to pen a letter to the town -company, announcing the letting of a house and prophesying an early -revival of the boom. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -WINGATE JOURNEYS ON - - -Justin Wingate tip-toed softly to and fro in front of the improvised -book shelves and looked at the formidable array of books which, -together with some furniture, had arrived for Clayton, and had been -brought out from the town. The books were of a different character -entirely from those which composed the minister's scanty collection. -Justin read the names slowly, without comprehension--"Spencer's -Synthetic Philosophy," "Darwin's Origin of Species," "Tyndall's Forms -of Water," and hard-worded titles affixed to volumes of the German -metaphysicians. There were medical books too, a great many it seemed -to the boy, in leather bindings, with gilt titles set in black squares -on the backs. - -Clayton came in while Justin was tip-toeing before the book shelves. -His appearance and manner had changed for the better. He looked at the -boy with kindly interest, and was almost cheerful. - -"Do you think you would like to become an educated man, Justin?" - -The boy's eyes shone. - -"I don't know. Would I have to read all of those?" - -A smile twitched the corners of Clayton's dark eyes. - -"Not all of them at once, and perhaps some of them never. At any rate -we wouldn't try to begin so high up as that." - -He sat down and began to question the boy concerning his acquirements, -and found they were not inconsiderable, for the lonely minister had -tried to be faithful to his trust. Except in one line, the Scriptural, -the faculty of the imagination had alone been neglected; and that -seemed strange, for Peter Wingate was so quiveringly imaginative that -he lived perpetually in a dream world which he believed to be real. -Justin had never heard of the Greek gods and demi-gods; the brothers -Grimm, Hans Christian Andersen, the Arabian Nights, were unknown names -to him; he had never visited Liliput and the land of the giants with -Gulliver, nor even gone sailing romantic seas and living in blissful -and lonely exile with Robinson Crusoe and Friday. Yet he knew all the -wonderful and attractive stories of the Bible. The friendship of David -and Jonathan was as real to him as the love that existed between -himself and the minister. He knew the height of Goliath, and had even -measured on the ground, with the minister's help, the length of that -giant's spear. He had seen the baby Moses drawn from his cradled nest -in the bulrushes; had witnessed the breaking pitchers and the flashing -lights of Gideon's band; and had watched in awed wonder when, at the -command of Joshua, the sun had stopped over Gideon and the moon had -hung suspended above the valley of Ajalon. - -Clayton's dark eyes looked into the blue eyes of the boy as they -talked, and the choking ache which had been in his heart when he came -to that lonely home in that lonely valley all but ceased. - -"You haven't missed so very much after all, Justin. I guess there -aren't any better stories than those you know anywhere in the world. -But you know them so well now that we will begin on something else." - -Stepping to a box he drew out a book. When he came back with it Justin -recognized the title, "Robinson Crusoe," for he had once heard the -minister mention it in a sermon. - -"Is it a story?" he asked, eagerly. - -"One of the best stories ever written, I think. It has made boys run -away to sea, I've been told, but I don't believe you will be harmed by -it in that way. Seven-league boots would be needed to run away to sea -from here. So we'll risk reading it." - -He sat down and began to read; and the boy, standing close against his -knees as on that first night, felt a strange warmth steal through him. -He wanted to put his arms around the neck of this man; and when at -length Clayton in shifting his position dropped a hand softly on the -boy's shoulder and let it rest there as he read on, the inner warmth -so increased in the heart of the boy that he could hardly follow the -story, fascinating as it was. - -What may be called Justin's course of instruction under Clayton began -that day, after Clayton had talked with Wingate and asked the -privilege of ordering certain books for Justin. The mail of a few days -later brought "Treasure Island." - -"A wild book and a bloody one," said Clayton, as he took it from its -wrapping, while Justin looked on expectantly, "but a little wildness -will be a good thing in this stagnation, and the blood in such a book -doesn't hurt a boy who isn't bloody-minded. I think there must have -been pirates who went about bludgeoning folks in the days of the -cave-dwellers, and certainly books about pirates couldn't have made -those fellows what they were." - -It was a delight to instruct such a natural, inquisitive, imaginative -boy as Justin. And the lessons were not confined to books. Clayton had -a little glass which he slipped in and out of his pocket at intervals -as he walked about with the boy. Looking through that glass the -greenish stuff that appeared on the stones by the margin of the tepid -stream was revealed as a beautiful green moss, the tufted head of a -dusty weed was seen to be set with white lilies, and tiny specks -became strange crawling and creeping things. Suddenly Justin had found -that the very air, the earth, even the water in the tepid pools of the -stream, swarmed with life, and it was an astonishing revelation. And -everywhere was order, and beauty of form and coloring; for even a -common rock, broken and viewed through that glass, showed beautiful -diamond-like crystals. - -One day Clayton plucked the leaf of a weed and holding it beneath the -glass let Justin look at it. - -"It's covered all over with fuzzy hairs!" - -Clayton plucked another of a different kind. - -"Isn't it funny? You can't see them, only through the glass, but the -edges are spiked, just as if there were little thorns set all along -it!" - -Clayton sat down, toying with the weeds and the glass. - -"What do you suppose those spikes and hairs are for?" - -"I don't know." - -"Perhaps no one really knows, but men may have theories. See that -little moth moving now across the weed blade. He is on the under side, -and the hairs help him to hold on. When he reaches the edge and wishes -to climb over, the hairs and the spikes help him to do that. That -shows, to me at least, that nature provides as completely for a moth -as for a man, and that God cares as much for the one as for the other; -only man, having a very high opinion of himself, doesn't think so. -Aha! Mr. Moth's wings are wet and he is having some trouble; we'll see -if we can help him." - -He stretched out his hand to turn the grass blade over, and in doing -so crushed the moth; it was his half useless left hand, heavy and -clumsy. His face flushed as he looked at his crooked arm, and then at -the moth, its mail of silver dust smeared over the green, sword-like -blade. - -"Poor little thing," he said. - -He put away the glass and rose, and there was no further lesson that -morning. - -Sometimes Justin rode forth with him on a visit to the home of a -settler. All knew him soon, and were glad of his coming. That he -appeared to have established himself permanently in one of the -abandoned houses of the town gave them selfish pleasure, for it was -good to have a doctor near. - -Often Clayton rode forth alone, spending whole days off in the hills, -or on the level lands stretching away from their base. He found Justin -always watching for him when he returned, and he never failed to bring -home something of interest in the shape of a crystal, a flower, a -lichen, or mayhap an abandoned bird's nest, which furnished either a -lesson or food for conversation. - -Always on his return from any trip, far or near, Wingate questioned -him with anxious yearning. Were the farmers still hopeful, what crops -looked most promising, did the deceptive clouds about the mountain -promise rain, had he seen any land-hunters or white-topped schooners -on the trail? And when Clayton had answered, the dreamer talked of his -dream. He was sure of its fulfillment some day. - -"A baseless dream," thought Clayton; "but all dreams are baseless, -gaudy, unsubstantial things, wrought by hope and fancy out of -foundationless air, and to shatter his dream would be to shatter his -heart." - -As he returned one day, Clayton beheld in the trail the vanishing -wheels of the mail carrier's cart and saw Justin running toward him in -great excitement. Quickening the pace of his horse he was soon at the -boy's side. - -"Father--Mr. Wingate--has--had a fit, or something. He's lying on the -floor and won't speak to me, and I can't lift him." - -Clayton leaped from the saddle and rushed into the house, with Justin -at his heels. The preacher lay on the floor, with arms spread out. -Beneath him was an open letter, across which he had fallen. Clayton -made a hurried examination, and with Justin's aid placed him on the -low bed. Picking up the letter he glanced at it. It was from the -secretary of the town company, and was apparently an answer to one -which Wingate had sent: - - "Mr. Peter Wingate. - - "My Dear Sir:--We regret that we cannot view the prospects of the - town and valley of Paradise as hopefully as you do. In fact we - have concluded to abandon it definitely and permanently, and to - that end we have sold all the buildings. The agent of the - purchaser will visit you at once and make arrangements for their - removal. - - "Very truly yours, - "Royce Gilbert, - "Secretary Paradise Land and Town Company." - -"Is he--very sick?" wailed the boy anxiously. - -Clayton dropped the letter to the floor, and swinging about in his -chair drew Justin to him, pressing him close against his heart. There -were tears in his eyes and his voice choked. - -"Justin," he said, "you will need to be a very brave boy now; Mr. -Wingate is dead." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -CLAYTON'S VISITORS - - -When jack-screws and moving teams had done their work in the town of -Paradise but one house remained, the minister's, and that only because -Curtis Clayton had purchased it and moved into it, with Justin. The -farmers of the valley wondered that he should remain, but tempered -their surprise with gratitude. - -He and Justin seemed even more closely linked now. But not even to -Justin did he ever speak of why he had come to the valley or why he -tarried. The coming appeared to have been a thing of chance, as when a -batted ball rolling to some obscure corner of the field stops there -because no force is applied to move it farther. If there was any -observable change in him after Wingate's death, it was that he became -more restless. The mind of the dreamer, in its workings somewhat akin -to his own, yet with a simple faith which he did not possess, had -soothed and rested him. - -Clayton wore out his increased restlessness by long walks with Justin, -abandoning the rides apparently because he disliked to leave the boy -alone. But his fame as a doctor was spreading through the -thinly-settled country, and when forced away from home by calls he -left Justin at the house of some farmer, usually that of Sloan Jasper, -for there the boy found pleasant companionship in the person of Mary -Jasper, a dark-eyed girl, with winning, mischievous ways and cheeks -like wild rose petals. Time never hung heavily with Justin at Sloan -Jasper's. - -In addition to his work of instructing Justin, and his reading, -Clayton spent much time in writing, in the little room which the -minister had fitted up as a study. Sometimes Justin was given the -privilege of dusting this room, and once when so engaged he whisked -from the table the scorched photograph he had seen before. Clayton had -evidently been looking at it, had placed it under a large blotter, and -then had neglected to put it away before admitting Justin. The boy -stared intently into the beautiful face shadowed forth on that bit of -cardboard, for he wondered; then he replaced it beneath the blotter -and resumed his dusting. But a question had arisen in his heart. - -To give Justin pleasant occupation and make the time pass more -rapidly, Clayton purchased a few sheep and placed the boy over them as -a herder; and, as if to furnish diversion for himself, he assisted -Justin in building a sod-walled corral and sod shelters for the sheep. - -It was a delight to Justin to guard the sheep on the grassy slopes and -drive them to the tepid water-holes. Often he did this in company with -Mary Jasper; he on foot, or high on Clayton's horse, the rosy-cheeked -girl swaying at his side on her lazy gray burro, which she had to beat -continually with a small cudgel if she progressed at all. - -Once Clayton remonstrated with her for what he deemed her cruelty to -the beast. - -"Doctor Clayton," she said severely, wrinkling her small forehead, -"the only way to make this critter go is to kill him; that's what my -paw says!" and she swayed on, pounding the burro's back with the stick -and kicking his sides energetically with her bare heels. - -Yet the valley life was lonely, so that the coming of any one was an -event; and it was a red-letter day when Lemuel Fogg drifted in with -his black-topped, wine-colored photograph wagon, and William Sanders -with his dirty prairie schooner. Fogg was a fat young man, whose -mustache drooped limply over a wide good-humored mouth, and whose -round face was splotched yellow with large freckles. Sanders was even -younger than Fogg. He lacked Fogg's buoyancy and humor, had shrewd -little gray eyes that peered and pried, and slouched about in shabby -ill-fitting clothing. Clayton gave them both warm welcome, and they -remained with him over night. - -Sanders, who was alone in his wagon, was looking for land on which to -settle. Apparently Fogg's present business was to take photographs, -and he began by taking one of Justin standing in the midst of his -sheep, with Mary Jasper sitting on her burro beside him, her bare feet -and ankles showing below her dusty gray dress. - -In addition to the land, which he looked over carefully with his -shrewd little eyes, Sanders cast furtive glances at Clayton's stiff -arm. He ventured to word a question, when he and Fogg sat with Justin -and Clayton in the little study after supper, surrounded by Clayton's -books and papers, while the sheep were securely housed in the sod -corral and the unrelenting wind piped insistently round the house. - -"'Tain't any my business as I know of," he began, apologetically, "but -I can't help lookin' at that arm o' your'n, and wonderin' what made it -so. I had my fortune told onc't by a man who had an arm like that, and -he said a tiger bit it. He was an East Injun, er a Malay, I reckon. It -come to me that you might have met with an accident sometime, er -somethin' er 'nuther? There's a story about it, I reckon?" - -The blood rushed in a wave to Clayton's face and appeared to suffuse -even his dark eyes. He did not answer the question, being sensitive on -the subject, and deeming it an impertinence. - -Sanders waited a time, while Fogg talked; then he returned to his -inquiry, with even greater emphasis. - -"Yes, there is a story," said Clayton, speaking slowly, after a moment -of hesitation, while a ghastly smile took the attractiveness out of -his thoughtful countenance. "It wasn't an accident, though." - -"No?" said Sanders. - -"The thing was done in cool deliberation. I was in college, in a -medical college, for I'm a doctor you know. I was a student then; and -it was the custom among the students to perform various operations on -each other, by way of practice, so that when we went out from there to -begin our work we would know how things should be done. One day I -sawed a student's skull open, took out a spoonful of his brains, and -sewed the wound up so nicely that he was well in a week. The operation -was a great success, but I dipped a little too deep and took out too -much of the gray matter, and after that he was always omitting -something or other that he should have remembered. In return for what -he had permitted me to do he put me on the operating table one day, -broke my arm with a mallet, and then proceeded to put it together -again. In doing so he omitted the funny bone, and my arm has been this -way ever since." - -Fogg broke into a roar of laughter. Sanders flushed slowly; and -getting up walked to the other end of the room, chewing wrathfully, -splintering the story with his teeth as he splintered the grass blades -that he plucked and chewed when walking about to view the valley land. - -"Huh!" he grunted, coming back and dropping lumpily into his chair. -"Tell that to a fool an' mebbe you'll git a fool to believe ye, but I -don't!" - -Fogg slapped his fat knee and roared again. - -"Ha, ha! Ho, ho! Ask him something else, Sanders! Who-ee! Doc, I -didn't think it was in you! If you do anything like that again I'll -have to let a reef out of the band of my trousers. Fire another -question at him, Sanders." - -"No," said Sanders, while a sullen fire glowed in his little eyes; "I -was goin' to ask him some other things, but I'm done!" - -Then he chewed again, tried hard to laugh, and seemed about to say -something; but Fogg broke in. - -"I say, Doc, you can tell a story so well you'd ought to be in my -line. Story telling is my long suit. Lincoln ought to have altered his -immortal saying before giving it to the world. My experience is that -if you keep the people in a good humor you can fool _all_ of them -_all_ of the time, and there ain't any better way than by feeding -them anecdotes and jollying them until they think they are the -smartest ever. For instance, Sanders believes in fortune tellers; they -jolly him, and that pleases him, and they get his coin. It's the same -way with everything and everybody." - -In addition to the photographic apparatus stored in the wine-colored -wagon Fogg had a collection of Navajo blankets, Pueblo pottery, Indian -baskets, bows and arrows, and such things. Seeing that his host was -not to be a purchaser, and being in a communicative mood, he did not -hesitate to expose now the secrets of his trade, in proof of his view -of the gullibility of the general public. - -"See that," he said, taking up a hideous image of Pueblo workmanship. -"Ninety men out of a hundred will believe that thing, with its froggy -mouth, is a Pueblo idol, without you telling them, and the others will -believe it when you do tell them." - -"Huh!" grunted Sanders, still angry; "if 'tain't an Injun idol, what -is it?" - -It seemed natural for Fogg to laugh, and he laughed again, with easy -gurgling. - -"You may call it anything you want to, but it ain't an idol. I've seen -Pueblo idols; there's a room full of them in the old Governor's Palace -in Santa F, and they look more than anything else like stone fence -posts with holes gouged near one end for the eyes, nose and mouth. -Them are genuine old Pueblo idols, but you bet the Pueblos didn't sell -them, and they didn't give 'em away. Did you ever know of a people -that would sell their God? I never did." - -"None, except Christians!" said Clayton, speaking slowly, but with -emphasis. - -Fogg set the staring image on the table and looked at him. - -"I hadn't thought of that. Yes, I reckon they do, a good deal of the -time. But an Indian wouldn't; he would never sell his God. Maybe it's -because Christians think so little of theirs that they're so ready to -believe a Pueblo will sell his for 'most any old thing. Them images -are just caricatures, made to sell. I go among the Pueblos three or -four times a year and buy up a lot of their pottery, and I encourage -them to make these images, which the average tourist thinks are gods, -for they sell better even than the water jars and other things that -they turn out. - -"Then I buy blankets of the Navajos, which they make dirt cheap now. I -helped to put 'em onto that. You can sell a dozen cheap blankets -easier than a single expensive one, especially when the people you're -selling to think they're getting the genuine goods at a bargain. It's -easier for the Navajo weavers to tear old government blankets to -pieces and re-weave them and color them with analine dyes than it is -for them to take their own wool and their own dyes and put the things -together in the old way. They won't wear of course, and the colors -fade, but they sell like hot cakes. - -"I buy for a dealer, who snaps up everything of the kind I can bring -him and hollers for more. You ought to see the crowds of people, -especially tourists, who wear out his floors. I'm going to have a -store of that kind myself some day. I take photographs for him, of -scenery and other things that will sell; and bring him loads of basket -work and bows and arrows from the Jicarilla Apaches just over the New -Mexican line. He grabs for the Jicarilla work, which I can get almost -cheaper than anybody, for I know the head men. The Jicarillas used to -be slow workers and too honest, like the Navajo weavers; but they're -onto their job now, and can put a willow basket together and dye it -with patent dyes in almost no time." - -Thus Lemuel Fogg discoursed of his business methods, until he had -succeeded in proving several things concerning himself, in addition to -his easy belief that the whole world is either covetous or dishonest. - -Fogg departed the next morning, on his way to Denver. Sanders lingered -in the valley for two or three days, peeking and prying, at intervals -visiting a fortune teller of local repute in the town, who saw land, -houses, and cattle for him, in the grounds of a coffee cup. But he was -angered against Clayton and did not return to his house. A dozen times -he told inquiring farmers that he "reckoned" he would take land there -and become one of them. But the grounds in the coffee cup did not -settle just right, and at length he, too, departed. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -SIBYL - - -One day there came, across the level lands, a wave of horsemen and -hounds in a rabbit hunt, the baying of the dogs breaking sharply on -the peaceful calm of the valley. Justin rushed from the house when he -heard the clamor. Clayton followed more slowly, and looked across the -valley from his doorway. The flutter of skirts told him that some of -the saddles bore women. He frowned. This slaughter of rabbits was -particularly distasteful to him, though he knew that the few farmers -on the low land by the stream would welcome it, if the horses and dogs -did not cut up the cultivated fields. - -Big gray jack rabbits, routed from their coverts, were bobbing on in -advance of the baying hounds and galloping riders. More rabbits were -seen to start up, bouncing out of bunches of grass or scattered clumps -of sage. Following behind, driven at a lively gait, came a mule team, -drawing a light spring wagon into which the slain rabbits were thrown. - -The extended line had advanced in a big semicircle; and the ends -bending in, the chase drew on toward the solitary home of the solitary -doctor. Justin was filled with excitement. The lust of killing, which -seems to be in the racial blood, stirred strongly within him, and was -only held in partial leash by certain teachings and admonitions well -hammered in by his instructor. Suddenly, quite carried away, he swung -his hat and yelled: - -"Mary is on one of those horses! See her, out there on the right side, -on the white horse! She must have been at the station and joined them -when they started." - -Clayton drew back from the doorway without a glance at the form of -Mary Jasper borne onward with flying leaps. A rush of disgust shook -him, so that he did not care to look longer. But Justin remained -outside, swinging his hat and whooping at intervals, quite taken out -of himself. - -Then a louder clamor, and a cry from Justin, drew Clayton to the door -again. One of the rabbits was approaching the house, springing on with -indescribable swiftness, yet unable either by running or dodging to -shake off the pursuit of the lithe-limbed, baying creatures that cleft -the air behind it. Two of the foremost of the hounds were in chase of -this rabbit, one twenty yards in advance of the other. Pushed hard, -the rabbit crouched and dodged again with such celerity that the -hound, whose open mouth at the instant was almost closing on it, was -thrown headlong in a frantic effort to stop and turn as quickly as the -rabbit itself. The second hound rushed at it, and the change of -direction flung the fleeing rabbit upon the bit of trampled grass in -front of the open door in which Clayton stood. - -It saw the opening, and in desperation darted into it as into a cave, -whisking past Clayton's legs. The hound came close after, yelping -fiendishly. With an exclamation that sounded like an oath, Clayton -kicked at it; but the hound almost overthrew him, leaped into the -house, and he heard the rabbit's death cry, and a crunching of bones -as the dog's ponderous jaws closed on its quivering body. - -Then Clayton heard a pounding of hoofs, and with eyes blazing -wrathfully he looked up, and saw the original of the photograph which -he had hurled into the fire and then had drawn out and treasured as if -he could not bear to part with it. The blood receded from his face, -leaving it livid and ghastly. - -"Sibyl!" he exclaimed. - -[Illustration: "The woman sitting there on her chafing horse stared -back at him"] - -The woman drew up her horse in front of the door through which the dog -had darted. She saw the man, and her clutch of the rein tightened. -Clayton looked up at her, and, standing in the doorway, while the dog, -having completed its bloody work panted out past him with furious -haste, he put his strong right hand against the side of the door, with -a faltering motion, as if he felt the need of aid to sustain him from -falling. - -The woman sitting there on her chafing horse stared back at him, while -the clamor of the hounds broke over them. Her face had flushed more -than even the excitement of the chase warranted; yet he knew she was -marvellously beautiful, as he looked at her full rounded throat and -chin, at her olive cheeks in which dimples nestled, and into her great -dark eyes, that held now a surprised light. Her hair was as dark as -her eyes, and even though much hidden beneath her riding hat, it was -still a crown of glory. Clayton saw only enough of the blue riding -habit to know that it became her; his eyes were drawn to her face. - -"Are you living here?" she asked in astonishment, giving a glance at -the small house. - -"Yes," he answered huskily. "I thought it as good a place as any, and -out of the world; but it seems you found your way here. And Death came -riding with you, as usual." - -"Curtis, you're always ridiculous when you say foolish things! I've -been wondering where you were. You don't intend to return to Denver?" - -"No." - -"Not even if I wanted you to?" - -She looked at him with her fascinating unfathomable eyes, noting his -manly presence, his clear-cut dark features, and the stiff, awkward -left arm. As she did so the color flamed back into his face. - -"No! Not unless--" - -"Unless I would consent to be as poky as you are!" - -"No, not that. I shouldn't expect you to take an interest in the -things I do. You never did, but I didn't care for that." - -He stopped as if in hesitation and stood trembling. - -"Well, I'm glad I've found where you're living. I suppose your post -office address is the town over there by the side of the mountain, -where the station is? I shall have something to send you by mail by -and by." - -"Yes, my mail comes to the station post office." - -He still trembled and appeared to hesitate. - -"It's queer, how I happened to find you here, isn't it? I have an -acquaintance in that little town, and she invited me down the other -day. Some other strangers to the place chanced to be there, and this -rabbit hunt was gotten up for our entertainment." - -"A queer form of entertainment!" he observed, with caustic emphasis. - -"To you I suppose it isn't anything short of murder?" - -"It's strange to me how any one can find pleasure in it." - -"I suppose that is as one looks at it. But I must be going. I don't -care to have people see us talking too long together. I'm glad, -though, that I found you." - -"Good bye!" he said, his lips bloodless again. - -She pulled her horse sharply about, and in another moment was -galloping on in the hunt, leaving him standing in the doorway staring -after her. He stood thus until the clamor of the dogs sounded faint -and she became a mere swaying speck, then he turned back into the -house. Justin came in at his heels. He had seen the woman and -recognized the pictured face of the photograph. - -"Take the rabbit out and bury it somewhere, Justin," said Clayton -wearily. - -Then he passed on into his study and closed the door behind him. - -A few days later the mail carrier brought him a Denver newspaper of -ancient date with ink lines drawn round a divorce notice. The paper -had been sent to his address by Sibyl. Clayton read the marked notice -carefully, and thrusting the paper into the stove touched a lighted -match to it. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE INVASION OF PARADISE - - -Lemuel Fogg made other visits to Paradise Valley, as the seasons came -and went, and Justin learned to look forward with pleasure to his -coming. Always he stayed over night, and talked long with Clayton, for -whom he had conceived a liking. - -Clayton continued to cling to his lonely home. Though more than once -tempted to depart he had never been able to make up his mind to do so. -He averred to Fogg, and to other acquaintances, that, having been -dropped down into Paradise Valley quite by chance, mental and physical -inertia held him there; he was lazy, he said, and the indolent life of -Paradise Valley had strong attraction for him. - -Yet, as his reputation as an excellent doctor spread, he often rode -many weary miles to visit a patient. Always the studies went on, and -the writing, and the little glass slipping out of and into his pocket -made the whole earth radiant with life and beauty. And Justin became a -stalwart lad, whose strong handsome face, earnest blue eyes, and -attractive personality, won new friends and held old ones. - -The few farmers who remained had learned well some lessons with the -passing of the years. Ceasing to rely on the uncertain rainfall, they -had decreased the areas of their tilled fields and pushed them close -to the stream, where the low-lying soil was blest with sufficient -sub-irrigation to swell the deep taproots of the alfalfa. They kept -small herds of cattle, and some sheep, which they grazed on the bunch -grass. The few things they had to sell, honey rifled from the alfalfa -blooms by the bees, poultry, eggs and butter, they found a market for -in the town, or shipped to Denver. - -Sloan Jasper was of those who remained, and Mary, a tall girl now, had -taken the place of her mother in the farmer's home. Mrs. Jasper had -given up the struggle with hard climatic conditions, and had passed -on, attended in her last illness by the faithful doctor. - -With Lemuel Fogg there came, one day, a ranchman named Davison; and in -their wake followed herds of bellowing, half-wild cattle, and groups -of brisk-riding, shouting cowboys, who rode down the fields in the -moist soil by the stream, as they galloped in pursuit of their -refractory charges. - -The advent of the cattle and the cowboys, the establishment of the -Davison ranch, the erection of houses and bunk-rooms, stables and -corrals, filled Justin's life to the brim with excitement. He -fraternized with the cowboys, and struck up a warm friendship with -Philip Davison's son Ben, a lively young fellow older than himself, -who could ride a horse not only like a cowboy, but like a circus -athlete, for he could perform the admirable feat of standing in the -saddle with arms folded across his breast while his well-trained -broncho tore around the new corral at a gallop. - -When the other members of the Davison household came and were -domiciled in the new ranch house, Justin found that Lucy Davison, the -ranchman's niece, the "cousin" of whom Ben had talked, was a beautiful -girl of Mary's age, with more than Mary's charm of manner. She was -paler than Mary, and had not her rose-leaf cheeks, but she was more -beautiful in her way, and she had something which Mary lacked. Justin -did not know what it was, for he was not yet analytical, but he was -interested in a wholly new manner. He could not be with her enough, -and when he was absent thoughts of her filled his mind and even his -dreams. - -Mary Jasper hastened to call on Lucy Davison; and in doing so made the -acquaintance of that most interesting person, Miss Pearl Newcome, -Davison's housekeeper. Miss Newcome had passed the beauty stage, if -indeed she had ever dwelt at all in that delectable period which -should come by right to every member of the sex; but she still -cherished the romantic illusions of her earlier years, and kept them -embalmed, as it were, in sundry fascinating volumes, which were warded -and locked in her trunk up stairs. She brought these out at -psychological moments, smelling sweetly of cedar and moth balls, and -read from them, to Mary's great delight; for there never were such -charming romances in the world, and never will be again, no matter who -writes them. Some of them were in the form of pamphlets, yellow and -falling to pieces; others were in creaky-backed books; and still -others, and these the most read, in cunning bindings of Miss Newcome's -own contriving. - -Sitting on the flat lid of the trunk, with one foot tucked under her -for comfort, while Mary crouched on the floor with her rose-leaf -cheeks in her palms, Pearl Newcome would read whole chapters from -"Fanny the Flower Girl, or the Pits and Pitfalls of London," from -"Lady Clare, or Lord Marchmont's Unhappy Bride," from "The Doge's -Doom, or the Mysterious Swordsman of Venice," and many others. The -mysterious swordsman in the "Doge's Doom" was especially entrancing, -for he went about at night with a black mask over his face, and made -love and fought duels with the greatest imaginable nonchalance. It -taxed the memory merely to keep count of his many loves and battles, -and it was darkly hinted that he was a royal personage in disguise. - -"The Black Mask's scabbard clanked ominously as he sprang from the -gondola to the stone arches below the sombre building, while the -moonlight was reflected from his shining coat of mail and from the -placid waters of the deep lagoon, showing in the pellucid waves alike -the untamed locks that hung about his shoulders and the white -frightened face of the slender, golden-haired maiden who leaned toward -him with palpitating bosom from the narrow, open window above him." - -When that point was reached Mary clasped her hands tightly across her -knees and rocked in aching excitement; for who was to know whether the -Black Mask would succeed in getting the lovely maiden out of the -clutches of the foul doge who held her a prisoner, or whether some -guard concealed in a niche in the wall would not pounce out, having -been set there by the shrewd doge for the purpose, and slice the Black -Mask's head off, in spite of the protecting coat of mail? - -Aside from her duties as housekeeper, which she never neglected, there -was one other thing that could cause Pearl Newcome to surrender -voluntarily the joys of that perch on the trunk lid in the midst of -her redolent romances with Mary Jasper for an appreciative listener, -and that was the voice of Steve Harkness, the ranch foreman. The -attraction of the printed page palled when she heard Harkness's heavy -tones, and stopping, with her finger between the leaves, she would -step to the window; and sometimes, to Mary's regret, would go down -stairs, where she would cut out a huge triangle of pie and place it on -the kitchen table. - -Harkness was big and jovial, and in no manner resembled the Black -Mask, who was slender, lithe, had a small supple wrist, hair of -midnight blackness, and "a voice like the tinkle of many waters." -Harkness's voice was big and heavy, and his wrist was large and red. -But he was usually clean-shaven, scented himself sweetly with cinnamon -drops, and was altogether very becoming, in the eyes of Pearl Newcome. -And she knew he liked pie. Sometimes Pearl came back to the trunk and -continued the dropped romance. That was when Harkness was in a hurry -and could not linger in the kitchen to joke and laugh with her. But if -time chanced to hang heavily on his hands and no troublesome cowboy or -refractory steer claimed his attention, she did not return at all, and -Mary, tired of waiting, crept down in disappointment. - -Delightful as Mary Jasper and Justin Wingate found the people of the -new ranch, Curtis Clayton secluded himself more than ever with his -books and his writing, and was not to be coaxed out of his shell even -by Justin's stories of Ben's marvellous acrobatic and equestrian feats -and of Lucy's brightness and clever talk. - -Yet he was drawn out one day by a summons that could not be disobeyed. -Harkness had been hurled against the new wire corral by a savage -broncho, and Clayton's services as a surgeon were demanded. He never -refused a call like that. - -He found Harkness sitting in the kitchen of the ranch house, to which -he had come as to a shelter, with Pearl Newcome bending over him, a -camphor bottle in one of her hands and a blood-stained cloth in the -other. Davison, Fogg, and several cowboys, stood about in helpless -awkwardness. Harkness's face looked white and faint, in spite of its -red tan. The sleeve of his flannel shirt had been rolled to the -shoulder and a bloody bandage was wound round the arm. - -"Nothin' to make a fuss about," he said, when he saw Clayton. "I got -slung up ag'inst the barbed wire and my arm was ripped open. It's been -bleedin' some, but that's good fer it." - -"I shall have to take a number of stitches," Clayton announced, when -he had examined and cleansed the wound. He opened a pouch of his -saddle-bags. - -"No chloryform ner anything of that kind fer me," said Harkness, -regarding him curiously. "Jist go ahead with your sewin'." - -Clayton obeyed; while Harkness, setting a lighted cigarette between -his teeth, talked and laughed with apparent nonchalance. - -Brought thus into close contact with the people of the ranch, the -shell of Clayton's exclusiveness was shattered. After that, daily, for -some time, he rode or walked over to the ranch house to see how his -patient was doing, or Harkness came over to see him. And he found that -these people were good to know. They lessened the emptiness which had -gnawed. They were human beings, with wholly human hearts. And he -needed them quite as much as they needed him. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG - - -Justin shot up into a tall youth; he was beginning to feel that he was -almost a man; and love had come to him, as naturally and simply as the -bud changes into the flower. It flushed his face, as he came with Lucy -Davison up the path to the arbor seat in the cottonwoods, after a -stroll by the stream. Planted when the ranch was established, the -trees were now a cool and screening grove. Justin had made for her a -crown of the cottonwood leaves, and had set it on her brown hair. As -they walked along, hand in hand, he looked at her now and then, with -the light of young love in his eyes. He was sure he had never seen a -girl so beautiful and it gave him a strange and delightful pleasure -just to look at her. - -"Tell me more about Doctor Clayton," she said, dropping down upon the -arbor seat. "You told me about that scorched photograph. What is that -woman to him, anyway?" - -"I don't know," he said, as he sat down by her. - -"I think she must have been his sweetheart." - -"Just because he couldn't burn her picture?" - -"Because he came down here in that queer way and has stayed here ever -since. Something happened to separate them." - -"If that is so I ought to be sorry, I suppose, but I can't; it was a -good thing for me; it kept me here, and gave me a chance to--get an -education." - -"And we do need a doctor here," she said, with unnecessary emphasis. - -"If he hadn't come, I'm afraid I should have been sent away when Mr. -Wingate died, and then I shouldn't ever have--met you." - -"Oh, you might have!" she declared, tossing her crowned head -coquettishly. - -She crumpled a cottonwood leaf in her fingers. With a boldness that -gripped his throat he slipped his hand along the back of the arbor -seat. - -"And if--if I had never met you?" - -"Then you wouldn't have known me!" - -"No, I suppose not; but, as you said, I might have; it seems to me -that something would have drawn me to you, wherever you were." - -The hot color dyed her fair cheeks. Her brown eyes dropped and were -veiled by their dark lashes. A strand of the brown hair blown in a -tangle across the oval of her face, the delicate curve of the white -throat, the yielding touch of her body as he pressed his extended arm -close up against it, intoxicated his youthful senses. - -"I don't want to think how it would have been if I had never known -you," he declared earnestly. "We have been good friends a long time, -Lucy." - -"We're good friends now, aren't we?" - -"Yes, but I want it to be something more than just friends." - -He pressed his arm closer about her and bent toward her. - -"I hope you won't mind my saying it; but I do love you, and have -from--from the very first. I didn't understand so well what it meant -then, but now I know--I know that I love you, and love you, and love -you!" The arm tightened still more. "And--and if you would only say -that you love me, too, and that--" - -She lifted her face to his. A dash of tears shone in the brown eyes. - -"I--I have--hurt your feelings!" - -"No, Justin." - -The sight of those tears, and her tremulous lips, so moved him that, -with an impulsive motion, and a courage he would not have thought -possible, he stooped and kissed her. - -"If you would only say that you do love me," he urged. - -"I do love you, Justin," she said, with girlish earnestness, "and you -ought to know that I do." - -"I have always dreamed of this," he declared, putting both arms about -her and drawing her close against his heart. "I have always dreamed of -this; that we might love each other, and be always together. I think -that has been in my heart since the day I first saw you." - -He held her tightly now, as if thus he would keep her near him -forever. - -"Have you truly loved me always?" she asked, after a long silence. - -"Always; ever since I knew you!" - -"But you--you did care for Mary, before I came?" - -"I always liked Mary." - -"And you like her now?" - -"Yes, but I love you; and that is very different." - -She sat quite still, but picked at the leaf of the cotton wood. He -seemed so strong and so masterful that the touch of his hands and the -pressure of his arms gave her a delightful sense of weakness and -dependence, a hitherto unknown feeling. - -"You never cared for Mary as--as you do me?" - -"I truly never loved Mary at all; I liked her, and we used to have -great fun together. But we were only children then, you know!" - -She saw one of the hands that enfolded her; the sleeve of his coat was -drawn up slightly, disclosing the clear white of the skin and the deep -line of tan at the wrist. She ventured to look at his face--the side -of it turned toward her; it was as tanned as his hand. Something more -than admiration shone in her brown eyes. - -"And now you think you are a big man!" - -"I am older," he said, simply. - -"And was that--that the reason why you tamed my mustang that day, so -that he wouldn't be killed? Because you loved me? I've wondered about -that." - -"That was the reason; but I was anxious, too, to save him." - -She was silent again, as if pondering this. - -"I've thought that might be the reason; and, you won't laugh at me if -I tell you, that's why I've ridden him so much since. Uncle Philip -didn't want me to go near him after that. But I would; and I've ridden -him ever since; though Pearl has told me a dozen times that he would -throw me and kill me. But I was going to ride him if I could, -because--because you conquered him--for me." - -He kissed her again, softly. - -"You musn't take too many risks with the mustang; for--for some time, -you know, you are going to marry me, I hope?" - -She did not answer. - -"It's a long way off, that some time, but--" - -She did not look at him. - -"Yes, some time, if I can," she said timidly. - -"If you can?" - -"If Uncle Philip will let me." - -"He's only your guardian, and you'll be of age by and by." - -"It seems a good while yet." - -"But it will come." - -"Yes, it will come." - -"I'll wait until that some time," he promised in a low voice. - -Time sped swiftly beneath the cottonwoods. To the boy and girl in the -morning glow of love hours are minutes. They did not know they had so -many things to talk over. Every subject was colored with a new light -and had a new relationship. But love itself was uppermost, on their -lips and in their hearts. - -Justin bore away from that arbor seat a conflicting sense of -exaltation and unworthiness. The warm inner light that illumined him -flowed out upon the world and brightened it. He walked with a sense of -buoyancy. There was a tang in the air and a glow in the sky before -unknown. - -Meeting Ben Davison he had a new sense of comradeship with him; and -though Ben talked of the young English setter he had recently -purchased, and sought to show off the good points of the dog, Justin -was thinking of Ben himself, who was a cousin to Lucy, and now shared -in some degree her superior merits. - -Also, when Philip Davison came out of the ranch house and walked -toward the horse corrals, the glance of his blue eyes seemed brighter -and kindlier, his manner more urbane and noble, and the simple order -he gave to Ben concerning work to be done fell in kindlier tone. -Though Davison's words bit like acid sometimes, Justin was resolved -now to remember always that he was Lucy's uncle and guardian. - -Walking homeward, Justin looked now and then at the ranch house. He -had seen Lucy flutter into it like a bird; she was in that house now, -he reflected, brightening it with her presence. The house, the -grounds, and more than all the cottonwood grove, became sacred. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -WILLIAM SANDERS - - -The feeling which hallowed the mere local surroundings of love held -its place tenaciously in Justin's heart and seemed not likely to pass -away. It was no sickly sentimentality, but had the power to strengthen -his inner life and add to his growing manliness. - -Justin was employed on the ranch now, and though there were many -distasteful things connected with the work, he desired to remain, -because it gave him so many opportunities to be near Lucy Davison. The -necessary cruelties connected with the rearing and handling of cattle -on a great range sickened him at times; for a love that was almost a -worship of all life, the lower forms equally with the higher, had been -instilled by Clayton into every fibre of his being. To Justin now even -the elements seemed to stir with consciousness. Did not certain -chemicals exhibited by Clayton rush together into precipitates and -crystals, as if they loved and longed to be united, and did not so -common a thing as fire throw out tentacles of flame, and grapple with -the wood as if hungry? And who was to say that the precipitates and -crystals and the fire did not know? Certainly not ignorant man. - -With this love of every form of life there grew a manly gentleness, -broken strangely at times by outbursts of temper, so that often it -seemed whimsical. - -Riding forth one day, in cowboy attire, along the line fence that held -in the cattle from the cultivated valley lands, he came upon Philip -Davison engaged in angry controversy with a young man of somewhat -shabby appearance. The shrewd little eyes of this man observed Justin -closely. Beside the fence was a dirty prairie schooner, from which the -man had descended, and to it two big raw-boned farm horses were -hitched. Eyeing Justin the man pushed back his hat, then awkwardly -extended his hand. - -"So you're Justin, air ye--the little boy I met one't? I reckon you -don't know me? I wouldn't knowed you, but fer hearin' the name." - -Justin acknowledged that the man's face was unfamiliar. - -"Well, I'm William Sanders!" He plucked a spear of grass and began to -splinter it with his teeth. "I landed hyer some seasons ago with Mr. -Fogg, and stayed all night with the doctor over there. Mebbe you'll -remember me now. I've thought of you a good many times sense then. -You've growed a lot. I was thinkin' about you t'other day while on my -way hyer; and a fortune teller I went to in Pueblo picked you out -straight off, from the cards she told with. She showed me the jack of -hearts, and said that was the young feller I had in mind. Sing'lar, -wasn't it?" - -Justin recalled this young man now, and shook his hand heartily. - -"It was singular," he admitted. - -"We'll have to talk over old times by and by," said Sanders, amiably. - -But Davison was not pleased to see Sanders, whom he had never met -before. Sanders, it appeared, had bought a quarter-section of land not -far from the stream, and had now come to occupy it. Trouble had arisen -over the fact that it was included in a large area of mortgaged and -government land which Davison had fenced for his cattle. Sanders was -demanding that he should cut the fence. - -"Cut it and let me git my land," he insisted, "er I'll cut it fer ye. -I know my rights under the law." - -"You can't farm there, and you know you can't," said Davison, in a -tone of expostulation. "This is simply a piece of blackmail. You want -me to pay you not to trouble me about the fence. But I won't do it. If -I did I'd have dozens of men landed on me demanding the same thing. -You know that nothing but bunch grass will grow on that land." - -Though he chewed placidly on the grass spear, Sanders' little eyes -glittered. - -"Cut the fence and let me git to my land, er I'll cut it fer ye!" - -His love for Lucy, which extended now to Philip Davison as a warm -regard and intense boyish admiration, would have inclined Justin to -the ranchman's side; but it was clear that Sanders was in the right -and Davison in the wrong. - -"I'll see you again, Mr. Sanders," he said; and rode on while the two -men were still wrangling. It was remarkable, he thought, that Sanders -should have remembered him so long, and more remarkable that a fortune -teller who had never seen him should be able to describe him even in a -dim and uncertain way. - -Farther along he encountered Ben, ranging the mesa with dog and gun, -training his young English setter. It was Ben's duty to ride the line -on this particular day; but Ben had shirked, and Justin had been -assigned to his place. The current opinion of the cowboys was that Ben -was shiftless and unreliable. - -"What's that hayseed mouthing about?" Ben asked. - -"He has bought some land in there, and wants your father to cut the -fence so that he can get to it." - -"These farmers are always making trouble," Ben growled. - -Then his face flushed. - -"Why didn't you stand up with me against that granger the other day, -when I told him that his horses, and not ours, had damaged his crops?" - -Justin desired to think well of Ben and remain on terms of friendship -with him because of Lucy. - -"I couldn't very well," he urged, "for I saw our horses in his millet, -myself." - -"Well, he didn't; he was in town that day. He would have believed you, -if you had said they were his horses. You might have backed me up, -instead of flinching; I'd have done as much for you." - -"You've got a handsome dog there!" said Justin. - -"Oh, that setter's going to be fine when I get him broke," Ben -asserted, with enthusiasm. "I only wish we had some Eastern quails -here. Harkness put you on this line today, did he? I wanted to train -my setter; so I told him I wasn't well, and slipped out of it." - -As the dog was now far ahead, Ben hastened to overtake him, and Justin -rode on, thinking of Ben, of Lucy, and of William Sanders. Ben's easy -disregard of certain things he had been taught to consider essentials -troubled him. He wanted to think well of Ben. - -When Justin learned the outcome of the controversy between Davison and -Sanders he was somewhat astonished. Sanders' truculence had made him -think the man would persist in his demands; but Sanders had agreed to -fence his own land, if Davison would but give him a right of way to -it. - -Within a week Justin understood why. Sanders, visiting the ranch-house -to see Davison, had also seen Lucy. He became a familiar visitor, -where his presence was not desired. If Lucy rode out, William Sanders -invariably chanced to be in the trail going in the same direction. If -she remained at home he came to the house to get Davison's advice as -to the best manner of constructing a fence, and Lucy's advice -concerning the proper furnishing of a dug-out for a single man who -expected to live alone and do his own cooking. - -Lucy came to Justin with the burden of her woes. - -"He follows me round all the time, just as if he were my dog!" - -"You ought to feel flattered," said Justin, though he was himself -highly indignant. "I don't suppose you want me to say anything to him -about it?" - -"Oh, no--no!" she gasped, terrified by the threat concealed behind the -words. - -"I've noticed he hasn't come near me since our meeting down by the -line fence. He told me then that he wanted to have a talk about old -times, but he hasn't seemed in any hurry to begin it." - -As Justin rode away in an angry mood Lucy Davison looked at his -receding figure with some degree of uneasiness. Justin had on a few -occasions showed a decidedly inflammable temper. Ordinarily mild in -word and manner, borrowing much of that mildness doubtless from -Clayton, when he gave way to a sudden spasm of rage it was likely to -carry him beyond the bounds of reason. - -The provocation came in a most unexpected, and at the time -inexplicable, way. Justin, riding along the trail by the stream, saw -Lucy come out from the shadows of the young cottonwoods near Sloan -Jasper's and walk in his direction, as if to join him. The sight of -her there filled his sky with brightness and the music of singing -birds. He pricked up his broncho and turned it from the trail. - -As he did so he beheld William Sanders appear round the end of the -cottonwood grove, mounted on one of his big, raw-boned horses. Riding -up to Lucy, Sanders slipped from his saddle and walked along by her -side. Justin's anger burned. It was apparent to him, great as was the -separating distance, that Sanders' presence and words were distasteful -to her. She stopped and seemed about to turn back to the grove. Justin -saw Sanders put out his hand as if to detain her. As he did so she -stooped; then she screamed, and fell forward, apparently to avoid him. - -Justin drove his broncho from a trot into a wild gallop. His anger -increased to smoking rage. It passed to ungovernable fury, when he -beheld Sanders catch the screaming girl in his arms, lift her to the -back of his horse, and scramble up behind her in the saddle. Justin -yelled at him. - -"Stop--stop, you villain!" - -In utter disregard of him and his shouted command Sanders plunged his -spurs into the flanks of his big horse, and began to ride away from -the cottonwoods at top speed. Lucy lay limp in his arms. - -"I'll have his life!" Justin cried, longing now for one of the cowboy -revolvers he had made it a practice, on the advice of Clayton, never -to carry; and he drove the broncho into furious pursuit of the big -horse that was bearing Lucy and Sanders away. - -The light, clean-limbed broncho, unimpeded by a cumbersome double -weight, began to gain in the mad race. Justin ploughed its sides -mercilessly with the spurs, struck it with his hands, and yelled at -it, to increase its speed. - -"Go, go!" he cried; "we must catch that scoundrel quick!" - -His line of action when that was accomplished was not formulated, -further than that he knew he would hurl himself on Sanders, tear him -from the saddle, and punish him as it seemed he deserved. - -Steadily the separating distance was decreased. Sanders still sent the -big horse on, almost without a backward glance. He held Lucy tightly -in his arms. Apparently she had fainted, for Justin could not observe -that she struggled to release herself. - -Again Justin bellowed a command to Sanders to halt. He was close upon -the big horse now. Sanders turned in his saddle heavily, for the -weight of the girl impeded his movements. Justin fancied he could see -the man's little eyes glitter, as they did that day when he delivered -his ultimatum to Davison. - -"You go to hell!" he bellowed back. - -The momentary slacking of his rein caused his horse to stumble, and it -fell to the ground. - -Justin galloped up in an insanity of blazing wrath. Lucy, hurled from -the back of the horse with Sanders, sprang up with a cry, and ran -toward Justin. Sanders, having picked himself up uninjured, stared at -her. His flushed face whitened and his little eyes showed a singular -and ominous gleam. - -"Take her," he said, hoarsely; "damn you, take her--I was doin' the -best I could!" - -Lucy's face was white--piteously white; her dry hot eyes gushed with -tears, and a sob choked in her throat. - -"Justin--Justin, it was not--his fault--nothing he did; it was the -snake; see, it bit me, here!" She thrust forward her hand. "Near the -wrist, there; and--and it is swelling fast, fast! We--we must--get to -Doctor Clayton's quick--quick!" - -Justin staggered under the revulsion of feeling. He caught the shaking -and terrified girl in his arms. - -"Help me--get her into the saddle, Sanders," he begged, stammering the -words. "And--and I ask your pardon! Later I will tell you what I--but -now I need you to--" - -Sanders sprang to his assistance. - -"Better take my horse; he's bigger!" - -"The broncho is faster," said Justin. "That's right. Now--that's -right!" - -He climbed shakily into the saddle. He felt his very brain reeling. -Then the broncho leaped forward. Sanders struck it a smart blow to -hurry it on; and stood looking at them, as they galloped wildly on -toward Clayton's, which had been his own destination. - -"Damn him!" he cried hoarsely. His little eyes glittered and his lips -foamed. "I was doin' the best I could, and I would have made it all -right." He clenched his fists. "I would 'a' been his friend--and -helped him; but now--" - -The sentence, the threat, died, gurgling, in his throat. - -As for Justin, he had no thought now but to reach Doctor Clayton's in -the quickest time possible. He did not spare the broncho. Yet, even in -these minutes of whirling excitement, when anxiety, fright, love, -chagrin, and regret, fought within him for the mastery, he did not -forget some of the things learned of Clayton. He took out his -handkerchief, rolled it into a cord with hands and teeth, and with -hands and teeth knotted it round the bitten arm just above the two -small punctures made by the teeth of the rattlesnake. - -The arm was already swollen, and he thought it was becoming -discolored. At times burning tears gushed from his eyes in a way to -blind him and keep him from seeing anything clearly. Lucy lay in his -arms as if dead. For aught he knew she might even then be dying. The -poison of the rattlesnake had been injected near the great artery of -the wrist, as she stooped in her embarrassment to pluck a flower, and -it would be speedy in its malignant effects. With that terrible fear -upon him, Justin blamed himself ceaselessly for the delay he had -wrought in the mistaken notion that Sanders was acting with sinister -intent. If that brief delay should aid to a fatal result he knew he -should go mad or kill himself. - -When Lucy stirred, or moaned, he bent over her with wild words of -inquiry. Her eyes were closed, and she was very white. - -"We are almost there--almost there!" he cried. - -Yet how long the distance seemed! - -Clayton came to the door, when he heard the clatter of hoofs. He wore -a faded smoking jacket and had a black skull cap perched on the top of -his head. His half lounging manner changed when he saw the trembling -broncho, dripping sweat and panting with labored breath from the -strain of its terrible run, and saw Justin climbing heavily out of the -saddle with Lucy. When her feet touched the ground she stood erect, -but tottered, clinging weakly to Justin's arm. She made a brave effort -to walk, as Clayton hurried to her side. He saw the knotted -handkerchief and the swollen arm, and knew what had happened. - -"Into the house," he said, tenderly supporting her. "Don't be -frightened, Lucy--don't be frightened! Justin, help me on the other -side--ah, that's right! A little girl was here only the other day, -from the Purgatoire, who had been bitten hours before, and I had her -all right in a little while. So, there's really nothing to be alarmed -about." - -Clayton's cheering words were a stimulant. Yet the battle was not -fought out. Before victory was announced, word had gone to the -ranch-house and to Jasper's. Philip Davison came, with Harkness and -Pearl Newcome, and Mary Jasper rode in on her pony, wild-eyed and -tremulous. Among others who arrived was William Sanders. - -Justin found him in the yard, out by the grass-grown cellar, where he -stood in a subdued manner, holding the reins of his raw-boned horse. -His manner changed and his little eyes burned when he saw Justin. - -"I don't keer to have you speak to me," he said, abruptly. "I reckon -from this on our ways lays in different directions. I don't know what -you thought I was up to, but I was doin' the best I could to git that -girl to this place in a hurry. You chipped in. I s'pose you think it -was all right, and that you helped matters?" - -"I have already asked your pardon, and I ask it again. I see now that -I was a fool. We'll forget the whole thing, if you're willing." - -Justin held out his hand in an amicable manner. - -Sanders disdained to take it. - -"I'm not willin' to fergit it, myself. I wanted to think well of you, -rememberin' when I first come to this house, and some other things, -but that's past. You made me look and feel cheaper than thirty cents -Mexican, and I ain't expectin' to fergit it." - -He turned away, and walked along the edge of the old cellar, leading -his horse. That William Sanders had in him all the elements of a -vicious hater was shown then, and many times afterward. He did not -speak to Justin again that day; and when the announcement came that -Clayton had won his hard fight and Lucy was on the high road to -recovery, he mounted and rode away. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -AND MARY WENT TO DENVER - - -Mary Jasper did not know that she went to Denver because she had read -Pearl Newcome's romances; but so it was. She was in love with Ben, and -expected to become his wife by and by, but her day-dreams were of -conquests and coronets. - -The alluringly beautiful lace of Sibyl had reappeared in Paradise -Valley. On her first visit, long before, Sibyl had marked the rare -dark beauty of Mary Jasper. Mary was now a fair flower bursting into -rich bloom, and wherever a fair flower grows some covetous hand is -stretched forth to pluck it. - -Though Sibyl had flung Curtis Clayton aside with as little compunction -as if his pure heart were no more than the gold on the draggled wings -of the butterfly crushed in the road, curiosity and vanity had drawn -her again and again to the little railroad town at the base of the -flat-topped mountain. There in the home of an acquaintance she had -found means to gratify her curiosity concerning the life led by -Clayton, and could feed her vanity with the thought that he had -immured himself because of her. - -Twice she had seen him, having taken rides through the valley for the -purpose; once beholding him from afar, watching him as he strolled -near the willows by the stream, unconscious of her surveillance, his -bent left arm swinging as he walked. On the second occasion they had -met face to face in the trail, while he was on his way to the town to -inspect some books he had ordered conditionally. Sibyl was on a -mettlesome bay, and he on his quick-stepping buckskin broncho. She -towered above him from the back of the larger horse. He lifted his hat -with a gentle gesture, flushing, and holding the reins tightly in his -stiff left hand. - -"You are looking well!" she cried gaily. It touched her to know that -he still carried himself erect, that he was still a handsome, -pleasant-eyed man, whom any woman might admire. "And really I've been -thinking you were moping down here, and suffering from loneliness and -hopeless love!" - -"Love is no longer hopeless, when it is dead!" he declared, voicing an -indifference he did not feel. Her light laugh fell like the sting of a -whip. "Oh, dear me! Is it so serious as that? But of course I don't -believe anything you say. Love is a bright little humming-bird of a -boy, who never dies. Truly, it must be lonesome down here, in this -poky place. I can't understand why you stay here. You might come to -Denver!" She looked at him archly, half veiling her dark eyes with -their lustrous lashes, while her horse pawed fretfully at the bank. "I -mean it, Curtis. You could be as far from me in Denver as you are down -here, if you wished to be. You know that as well as I do." - -"I don't think I could," he said, and though his voice showed pain it -showed resolution. "I find this a very good place. I like the quiet." - -"So that no one will ever trouble you while you're studying or -writing! You'll be a great author or scientist some day, I don't -doubt." - -He did not answer. - -"Well, good bye, Curtis. I'm not so bad as I seem, perhaps; you don't -see any horns or cloven hoof about me, do you?" She waved her hand. -"And I'm glad to know you're looking so well, and are so contented and -happy!" - -She gave her horse a cut with her riding whip and galloped away. - -How many more times Sibyl Dudley (she had taken her maiden name) came -to the little town by the mountain Curtis Clayton did not know, and -never sought to discover; but one day he was almost startled, when -Justin brought him news that Mary Jasper had accompanied Sibyl to -Denver, and was to remain there with her. - -Clayton at once mounted his horse and rode up the valley in the waning -afternoon, to where Sloan Jasper's house squatted by the stream in the -midst of a green plume of cottonwoods of his own planting. He found -Jasper in a stormy temper. There had been heavy August rains and a -cloud-burst. The sluggish stream had overleaped its banks, smearing -the alfalfa fields with sticky yellow mud and a tangle of weedy drift, -in addition to softening the soil until it was a spongy muck. Hundreds -of cattle had ploughed through the softened soil during the night, for -the storm had torn out a section of fence and let them drift into the -cultivated area of the valley. Standing with Jasper was Clem -Arkwright. - -"Glorious, sublime!" Arkwright was saying. - -He had taken off his hat, and stood in reverent attitude before the -lighted mountain, a young, red-faced, pudgy man, with thick mustache. -Though Sloan Jasper was not gifted with keen discernment he felt the -attitude to be that of the Pharisee proclaiming his own excellence -rather than that of his Maker. Arkwright seemed to be saying to him, -"Behold one who has been endowed with a capacity which you lack, the -capacity to appreciate and enjoy this sublime picture!" - -All the way up the valley trail Curtis Clayton had been delighting in -the beauty of that evening scene. The misty clouds lingering after the -storm had hung white draperies about the wide shoulders of the -mountain. Into these the descending sun had hurled a sheaf of -fire-tipped arrows, and straightway the white draperies had burned red -in streaks and the whole top of the mountain had flamed. The colors -were fading now. - -"Glorious, sublime!" Arkwright repeated. - -"The sunlight on that mountain don't interest me a little bit, -Arkwright," said Jasper, with curt emphasis; "what I want to know is -how I'm going to protect myself? You say there ain't any herd law. -You're a justice-of-the-peace, and I reckon a lawyer, or a half of a -one. We can have a herd law passed, can't we? And what's to keep me -from shootin' them steers when I catch 'em in here? Powder and lead -air cheap, and that's what I'll do; and then I'll let Davison do the -sum'. I ain't got nothin' much, and he'll find it hard work to git -blood out of a turnip. Let him do the sum', and see if he can collect -damages; you say I can't." - -"You're hopeless, Jasper! - - "'A primrose by the river's brim, - A yellow primrose was to him-- - And it was nothing more!'" - -Arkwright made the quotation and sighed, as Clayton rode up. "But see -the fading light on those clouds! Was there ever anything like it? -What does it make you think of?" - -"It makes me think that if I had my way I could improve on nature a -bit in this valley; I wouldn't send all the rain in a bunch and jump -the river out of its banks and roll it over everything, but distribute -it a little through some of the other months of the year." - -Arkwright turned his pudgy form about. - -"Ah, Doctor! Glad to see you. You ought to get over to the town -oftener. You wouldn't care to ride up this evening, I suppose? The -sunlight is going, and I must be going, too." - -Clayton did not care to ride to town. When Arkwright was gone he -questioned Jasper concerning the occasion of his visit. - -"I reckon he come down for a word with Ben Davison; I don't know what -else. He and Ben air gittin' thick as fleas lately. It's my opinion -that Ben's gamblin' away his wages up there in the town with him, but -I don't know; and I don't care. I'd be glad to have both of 'em keep -away from me. Look at that millet, Doctor; just look at it! Ruined by -Davison's cattle; and Arkwright tells me I can't do anything, because -there ain't any herd law in this county. But I can shoot 'em; and I'll -do it next time they git in here, see if I don't." - -Clayton had heard Jasper rave in that way before, and nothing had ever -come of it. Other settlers had raved in the same manner, and then -realized their helplessness. Looking into Jasper's angry face, he -tried now to speak of Mary. - -"I hear that your daughter has gone to Denver, Mr. Jasper!" - -Jasper drew himself up, forgetful for the moment of his millet. A look -of pride and pain overspread his hairy face. - -"Yes, she's gone there to stay awhile with Mrs. Dudley. I didn't want -her to, but she would go; it makes it mighty lonesome here, but she'll -be happier up there, I reckon. Mrs. Dudley took a likin' to Mary, and -wants to give her a better chance fer an ejication and other things -than she can have here. So I reckon it's all right, though I didn't -see at first how I could git along without her." - -All at once Clayton's heart seemed to shrivel and shrink. He fumbled -with the yellow mane of the broncho and with the reins that swung -against its neck. When he spoke after a little, trying to go on, his -voice was husky. - -"That woman is--" - -"Yes, I allow Mrs. Dudley is a fine woman!" - -Clayton's resolution failed utterly. - -"And she's smart," Jasper declared, "smart as a steel-trap; when she -talked with me about takin' Mary, and what she could do fer her, I -could see that. She's mighty good-lookin', too; though I don't think -anybody can come up in looks to my Mary. I wisht you could have seen -her with some of her new fixin's on, which Mrs. Dudley bought fer her. -She was certainly handsome. And she's goin' to enjoy herself there, I -don't doubt. I've already had a letter from her, tellin' me how happy -she is. I reckon I ought to be willin' fer her to have things her -mother never had, fer she's fit fer it, and not have to slave as her -mother did, and as I've always done. Yes, I reckon I'm glad she's -gone; though 'tis a bit lonesome here, fer I ain't got anybody with me -at all now, you see." - -Though Curtis Clayton had visited Sloan Jasper for the express purpose -of uttering a warning against Sibyl, he permitted Jasper to talk on, -and the warning words remained unsaid. Jasper was inexpressibily -lonely, now that his daughter was gone; yet it was plain that he would -not call her back, and equally plain that he knew she would not return -if he called never so loudly. And he was trusting that the thing he -could not help was the very best thing for the child he loved. Clayton -felt that he could not stir up in the heart of this man a useless, -peace-destroying, and perhaps a groundless, distrust. - -So he rode away as the night shadows were falling, and gathered a -great contempt for himself as he returned slowly homeward. He had no -right to judge Sibyl, and possibly, very probably, misjudge her, he -thought; yet he had a fear, amounting almost to conviction, that she -was not a woman to whom should be given the charge and training of -such a girl as Mary Jasper. That fear had sent him to Jasper; his -retreat seemed a cowardly flight. - -As for Mary, she was childishly happy in Denver. The only present -cloud on the sky of her life was that her father had not really wished -her to go. He had objected stoutly at first, but ever since her -mother's departure from the earthly Paradise, which had been full of -all manner of hard labor, to that upper and better one where, her -simple faith had assured her, she should toil no more, Mary had -contrived to do pretty much as she pleased. Her head was filled with -romantic ideas, garnered from Pearl Newcome's much-read novels. In -this matter, as in all others, she had taken her own way, like a -high-headed young horse clamping the bit tightly between its teeth and -choosing its road in defiance of the guiding rein. And her father had -submitted, when he could do nothing else, had admired and praised her -in the wonderful new clothing provided for her by Mrs. Dudley, and had -driven her to the station with her little trunk packed with pretty -trifles. He had kissed her good bye there, bravely enough, with hardly -a quiver in his voice, and so she had gone away. She recalled him -often now, standing, a pathetic figure, in his cheap clothing, waving -his hand to her as she looked from the car window to throw a kiss as a -final farewell. - -But this picture seldom troubled her long. Denver was too attractive -to the girl who had scarcely in her whole life seen a place larger -than the little town at the base of the familiar flat-topped mountain. -And what a gay, care-free life Denver led, as viewed by her through -the eyes of Mrs. Dudley! This was Vanity Fair, though Mary had never -even heard that name. Mrs. Dudley kept a carriage, which rolled with -shining wheels through the Denver streets to the merry tattoo of -trotting hoofs and the glint of silver-mounted harness. A driver sat -on the box in blue livery, and the easy sway and jounce of the springs -made her feel as if she were being lifted forward on velvet cushions. - -Young men and old men turned about to admire her and the woman who sat -by her side, as the carriage rolled along. Women looked at them, too, -sometimes with shining eyes of envy; looked at the carriage, at the -beautiful clothing, and the two bright faces. Mary wore jewels now, -and Sibyl had roped her slender neck with a heavy gold thread which -bore a neat little locket at its end. Into that locket Mary had put -the gnarled wisp of hair which in a moment of devotion at home she had -clipped from her father's head. To wear it now was something of a -penance for leaving him in his loneliness. - -Sibyl had a "set," which was very gay and overflowed with parties -where cards were played for favors, and in little dances which were -said to be very "select." Gay debonair men and handsomely dressed -women attended these dances and parties and made life one never-ending -round of merriment. Mary thought she had never known what it was to -really live until now. Sibyl delighted in her; the girl's fresh -flower-like face and inevitable gaucherie set off and added to Sibyl's -own attractiveness. - -Mary wrote to her father with religious regularity every Sunday. -Sunday was a religious day, and the writing of a letter to her father -was performed almost as a sacred duty, so that Sunday seemed the -appropriate day for it. She wrote also to Ben Davison, more fully than -to her father, describing to him the joys of her new mode of life, and -appealing to him not to be "savage" about her comments concerning some -of the young men she met. - -"Dear Ben," she said in one of her letters, "Sibyl Dudley is a perfect -darling. I am surprised that you didn't know she had been married. I -thought you knew all the time. She is divorced now, I think, though -she never says anything to me about it. I'm sure there must be a -beautiful romance in her life, as lovely as any of those Pearl reads, -for sometimes when she thinks I'm busy she sits for a long time -perfectly silent, as if thinking of something serious. But in spite of -that she is as gay and happy as can be. Yes, she is a darling; and so -are you, you old grumpy, grizzly bear! I wish you could send me a -pony--not a broncho! It would be such fun to go galloping on my own -pony through the streets. I ride a good deal, but these Denver horses -are such big things. Mrs. Dudley is a superb horsewoman. Is that -right, horsewoman?--it sounds funny, worse than cowboy. Sometimes when -we meet people she introduces me as her niece, and the people smile -and say how much we look alike. Isn't that funny, too?" - -Sibyl abounded in "charities," and had numbers of feeble men and old -women who devoutly, or otherwise, blest her shadow as she passed. -Under her tutelage Mary also found it pleasant to play Lady Bountiful. -It gave her quite as much comfort as the penning of that Sunday letter -to her father. Her father had lived a saving and scrimping life and -had never given anything to anybody, so that to Mary this was an -entirely new and pleasing phase of life's conduct. It made her feel so -superior to bestow with unstinting hand, and be blest for the largess, -as if the donor were a veritable gift-showering angel, or -luxury-distributing fairy, with red gold on her wings. - -All in all, Mary found Denver to be a place of unheard-of delights, in -which, especially to those who were not poor and in want, life passed -like one of the plays which she sometimes witnessed from a box in the -opera house, or after the fashion of the rollicking fanfare of the -romances in Pearl Newcome's wonderful trunk. And it was good, all of -it; much better than Paradise Valley, or even the society of Ben -Davison, though she was sure that she still loved Ben. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -A REVELATION OF CHARACTER - - -William Sanders did not forget nor forgive. - -He ceased to annoy Lucy Davison, and even in time affected to overlook -the humiliation to which he felt Justin had subjected him; but deep in -his heart he nursed both for Philip Davison and Justin an ineradicable -hate, which revealed itself at times in disputes fomented with the -farmers. - -Sanders' half-veiled enmity troubled Justin less than the discovery -which came to him one day of the innate dishonesty of Ben Davison's -character. - -Philip Davison was in one of the bunk rooms, paying off his "hands," -when Justin and Ben arrived from the high mesa where for a month they -had been line-riding together. Bronchos stood outside on the trampled -grass. Within, where the walls above the rude wooden bunks were hung -with bridles and quirts, saddles and ponchos, ropes and spurs, sat -Davison, at a small unpainted table, counting out money to his -employes and keeping a record of the amounts paid by writing names and -sums with a stub pencil in a soiled account book. Davison was fifty -years of age now, red-faced, blue-eyed, and bearded. Justin had -learned to admire and like him, for there were admirable traits in his -character. Though he swore horrible oaths at times, which he -complained a man had to do if he handled cattle and cowboys, he had -generally been kind to Justin, and he had conceived a fondness for -Clayton, whom he respected for his learning and skill as a physician. - -Having received his wages from the hands of Philip Davison, Justin -went out behind the bunk house, and was counting his bills in the -drizzle that was falling, when Ben appeared, his manner nervous and -his eyes shining. - -"I'm ahead this time!" he said. - -Then, to Justin's astonishment, he lifted one of his boots, and there, -sticking to the muddy sole, was a five-dollar bill. He pulled it away -with a chuckle, wiped off the mud as well as he could, and added it to -the pile in his hands. - -Justin stared at him, with a look which Ben resented. - -"Some money was on the table and the wind flirted that bill to the -floor. I set my boot on it, and when I walked out it walked out with -me." - -"You didn't do that!" - -"What's the difference? Father will never know! And he's got plenty -more where that came from. He only pays me beastly cowboy's wages, -when I'm his own son. So I helped myself, when I saw my chance." - -Justin's look showed reproof, and Ben flushed in angry irritation. - -"You'd tell, would you?" - -"That's stealing!" - -A flush of red waved into Ben's face. Stung by the inner knowledge of -his wrong, this blunt condemnation roused the latent devil in him. He -leaped at Justin blindly, and struck him in the face. - -Justin had never fought any one in his life, nor could he remember -that he had ever before been struck in anger. But when that blow fell -on his face with stinging force, his head became unaccountably hot, he -trembled violently, and with a hoarse cry gurgling from his lips he -sprang upon Ben and struck him to the earth with one blow of his fist. - -Having done that, he drew back, shaken and dismayed. He had knocked -Ben Davison down, when but a moment before they had been friends! He -stared at Ben, who had dropped heavily to the ground. Already he was -remorseful and almost frightened. Ben scrambled up, cursing. - -"I'll make you pay for that!" he said, wiping a speck of blood from -his trembling lips with his hand. - -"It--it was your fault! I--" - -Philip Davison came round the corner of the building upon this scene, -having heard the blows and the fall. He saw Ben's cut and quivering -lip, his clothing wet and muddy, and Justin standing before him with -hot, flushed face. - -"You struck Ben?" he cried. - -Ben was his pride. - -Justin looked at him, after an appealing glance at Ben. - -"Yes," he acknowledged, with humility and a feeling of repentant -uneasiness. He had gained Ben's enmity, and he feared he had lost -Philip Davison's regard, which he valued highly. - -Ben was crumpling together the wad of bills, and thrust them into his -pocket. - -"Yes, he struck me, but I hit him first," he confessed. "We had a -little quarrel, a few words, that's all." - -Though no larger than Justin, he was older, and it humiliated him to -confess even this much. - -Davison was annoyed and angry. - -"Go into the house, Ben," he commanded; "I'll see you later." - -When Ben was gone he turned to Justin. - -"I've tried to do right by you, Justin, and I've liked your work; but -you must remember that Ben is my son. I can't think that you had any -good reason to strike him." - -"I didn't intend to strike him," Justin urged, "and I shouldn't have -done so if he hadn't struck me first." - -"Well, I won't have you two quarreling and fighting. Just remember -that, will you?" - -"He struck me first!" said Justin, sturdily, though deeply troubled by -the knowledge that he had offended Philip Davison. - -Davison followed Ben into the house, leaving Justin weak and -bewildered. He had smothered his sudden explosive rage, yet he still -felt its influence. That he could have struck Ben in that way seemed -incredible; yet he tried to justify the deed to himself. He was about -to walk away, when Ben reappeared and came up to him. - -"Justin, you're a brick, to stand by a fellow that way! You knocked me -down, but I don't hold it against you, for you can keep your mouth -shut." - -"You still have that money?" - -"Of course." - -"I haven't changed my opinion about that!" - -Ben's face reddened again. - -"What if I did keep it? You're fussy, and you're a fool! What is my -father's is mine, or it will be mine some day; I just took a little of -it ahead of time, that's all. It will all be mine, when he goes over -the divide." - -Justin was horrified. Ben had expressed reckless and defiant views on -many subjects, but nothing like this flippant speculation concerning -his father's death. - -"I won't listen to you when you talk that way," he declared; and he -moved away. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -PIPINGS OF PAN - - -The result of this quarrel was that Justin was banished temporarily -from the ranch, though it was not assigned as the reason for his -exile. Fogg had been forced to take a flock of sheep in payment for a -debt owed him by a sheepman. The sheep were already in Paradise -Valley, and were to be sent at once into the mountains. Davison -ordered Justin to take charge of these sheep, and hurried shepherd and -flock into the hills, while Lucy was temporarily away from home. -Justin could not rebel against this order except mentally, if he -wished to remain in Davison's employment and retain, or regain, his -good-will. - -Before setting forth he left a letter for Lucy with Pearl Newcome, and -was sure she would get it. Yet he departed from the ranch with a heavy -heart; and as he went on his way he questioned why he and not another -had been selected for this life of lonely exile in the mountains. He -was almost sure it was because of his trouble with Ben. - -Justin was assisted in driving the sheep to the high altitudes, where -they were to graze until cold weather would make it advisable to bring -them into the lower foot-hills. A sufficient supply of food for a -month or more was taken along, and he was helped in the work of -erecting a brush-and-pole house. - -He was well up among the pines and aspens, where the nights are always -cool, with often a sharp frost even in mid-summer. Snow banks were in -sight, and here and there streams and small lakes of the purest ice -water. Occasionally a lordly elk crashed through a grove, or came out -with such suddenness on the lonely herder and his woolly charges that -it whistled and fled in astonishment. Black-tailed deer passed -frequently on the slopes, and now and then Justin came upon the track -of a bear. The only animals he could not love were the worthless -coyotes, that made life a burden to him and murdered sleep in their -efforts to slay the sheep. - -Of all, the sheep were the most vexatious and stupid, having no -originality of impulse, and being maddeningly, monotonously alike. -When hungry, in the earlier part of the day, they exhausted his -strength and that of his dog, as he followed them, while they swarmed -everywhere, nibbling, nibbling, with a continual, nerve-racking -"baa-a-a! baa-a-a!" Justin could not wonder that sheep-herders often -go mad. The sheep were more than two thousand in number; and to keep -anything like a count of them, so that he might be sure that the flock -was not being devastated by the sly coyotes, was trying work. - -But there were other times when he was given hours of lazy ease, when -he could lie with the faithful dog on the cool grass and look up into -the cool sky; could listen to the foaming plunge of the mountain -stream, to the fluttered whisperings of the aspens and the meanings of -the pines, and could watch the flirting flight of the magpies, or the -gambolings of playful deer. - -So Justin had much opportunity for thought; and his thoughts and -imaginings ran wide and far, with Lucy Davison and Doctor Clayton not -very far from both center and periphery wherever they ran or flew. -That he had been forced to come away without a parting word with Lucy -troubled him sorely. - -He had his mother's little Bible with him, containing the wisp of -brown hair, and the written flyleaf: - -"Justin, my baby-boy, is now six months old. May God bless and -preserve him and may he become a good man." - -He read in it much, in his leisure; and studied that writing many, -many times, thinking of his mother, and wondering about his father. -And he questioned as to what his life probably would have been if his -mother had lived, or if he had known of his father. Yet he was very -well satisfied to have it as it had been ordered. It had brought to -him Lucy Davison; and he might have missed her, if fate had not led -him to Paradise Valley and kept him there. - -He was quite sure that no father could have done more for him than -Clayton, nor loved him with a more unselfish love. To the missionary -preacher, Peter Wingate, and to Curtis Clayton, he acknowledged that -he owed all he was or could ever be. He thought very lovingly of -Clayton, as he lay on the cool slopes looking into the cool sky. - -And, indeed, the lonely doctor had been wondrously kind to the boy -whose life and future had been so strangely committed to his keeping. -Without intending anything in particular beyond the impartation of -knowledge, he had rounded, on the foundation laid by Peter Wingate, a -structure of character that combined singular sweetness with great -nobility and strength, for Justin had inherited from his mother -certain qualities of sturdy resolution which Clayton himself lacked. -The one great blemish, or fault, was a quick and inflammable temper, -that almost resisted control. - -Utterly unaware of the fact himself, as he lay thus among his sheep, -while his thoughts ranged far and wide, Justin was like that ruddy -David, youthful son of Jesse, with whose life story, told in his -mother's little Bible, he was so familiar, or like Saul in his boyhood -days. His lusty youth, his length of limb, his shapely head covered -with its heavy masses of hair, his tanned strong face with its kindly, -clear-cut profile, and his steady unwinking eyes that looked into the -blue skies with color as blue, all spoke of unrecognized power. - -He dreamed of the future, as well as of the past, building cloud -castles as unsubstantial as the changing clouds that floated above -him. He knew that many of them were but dreams. Others it seemed to -him might be made to come true, with Lucy Davison to help him. He did -not intend to remain either cowboy or sheep-herder, he was sure of -that; and he did not think he would care to become a doctor, like -Clayton. He would like to accomplish great things; yet if he could -not, he would like to accomplish the small things possible to him in a -manner that should be great. Not for his own sake--he felt sure it was -not for his own sake--but for Lucy and Clayton! He wanted to be worthy -of them both. - -It must be confessed that his wandering thoughts were chiefly occupied -with Lucy Davison. He delighted to recall those happy moments under -the cottonwoods. Always in his dreams she was true to him, as he was -to her; and she was longing for his letters, as he was for hers. - -Naturally, other things and people were often in Justin's thoughts. He -thought of Philip Davison, of Ben, with whom he had quarreled, and of -Mary Jasper and her father. With a keen sense of sympathy he pictured -Sloan Jasper plodding his slow rounds, trying to satisfy with his -horses and his cows that desire for loving companionship which only -the presence of his daughter could satisfy. He marveled that Mary -could leave her father to that life of loneliness for even the -gayeties of Denver. And thinking thus, he pitied Mary. - -Often Justin lay under the night sky, rolled in his blankets, when the -coyotes were most annoying, ready to leap up at the first alarm given -by the dog. He carried a revolver for use in defending the sheep -against the coyotes. This was a case in which, as he knew, even Curtis -Clayton would approve of slaying. He began to see clearly, too, in -this warfare with the coyotes, that nature, instead of being uniformly -kind, as Clayton liked to think, is often pitilessly cruel, and seems -to be in a state of armed combat in which there is never the flutter -of the white flag of truce. - -It was the visualizing to him of that age-old conflict in which only -the fittest survive. As he looked out upon this warring world, all the -animals, with few exceptions, seemed to be trying to devour all the -others. The coyotes slew the sheep, the mountain lions pulled down the -deer, the wild cats devoured the birds, and for all the fluttering, -flying insect life the birds made of the glorious turquoise skies an -endless hell of fear. - -Often there came to Justin under the night sky rare glimpses of the -wild life of the mountains. Playful antelopes gamboled by, all -unconscious of his presence, frisking and leaping in the light of -early morning, or scampering in wild rushes of fright when they -discovered his presence or the dog gave tongue; bucks clattered at -each other with antlered horns, or called across the empty spaces; -wild cat and cougar leaped the rocks with padded footfalls and -occasionally pierced the still air with screams as startling in their -suddenness as the staccato, Indian-like clamor of the coyotes. Always -wild cat, cougar and coyote brought Justin from beneath his blankets -with every sense alert, and sent the dog scurrying into the gloom in -the direction of the sound. - -Clayton's habits of study and writing had not been lost on Justin, and -now and then he tried to set down in his little note book some -description of the things that moved him. He composed letters, too, to -Lucy, many letters which he never meant to send. In them he told her -of his life with the sheep, and of how much he loved her. Often these -letters were composed, but not written at all. - -In one of those letters to Lucy which were not intended to be sent he -incorporated some of his thoughts concerning the farmers of the -valley, together with a bit of verse. The old hope of Peter Wingate -had come back to him for the moment, and he saw the valley as Wingate -saw it in his dream of the future: - - "The crooking plumes of the rice-corn, - The sorghum's emerald spear, - The rustle of blue alfalfa, - Out on this wild frontier, - Whisper of coming thousands, - Whose hurrying, eager tread - Shall change this mould into kerneled gold - And give to the millions bread. - - "Tis now but a dream prophetic; - The plover tilts by the stream, - The coyote calls from the hilltop, - And the----" - -Justin got no further. The impossibility of the fulfillment of that -dream had come to him as he sought to picture the present. - -When the driver of the "grub wagon" came with supplies and the news of -the ranch, he brought a letter from Lucy; and he took away a letter -for her, when he departed. The news from home was cheering. Outwardly -at least matters had not changed there. No one had come, and no one -had gone, and the usual work was going on. - -More than once the driver came, and each time Justin saw him depart -with unspoken longing. He would have given much to be privileged to go -back with him. Yet Justin was not and had not been lonely in the -ordinary meaning of that word; he was lonely for the companionship of -Lucy Davison, for the glance of her brown eyes, for the music of her -words; but, possessing that inner light of the mind in which Clayton -believed, it brightened his isolation as with a sacred fire, filled -the wooded slopes and craggy heights with life and beauty, and -suggested deep thoughts and deeper imaginings. - -Filled with dreams and work, with desire and accomplishment, the slow -months rolled by. With the descent of the snow-line on the high peaks -the sheep were driven into the foot-hills, and then on down into the -plain itself, where not only grass, but the various sages--black, -white, salt and bud sage--together with shad-scale and browse, -furnished an abundance of the food they liked. - -Then they were taken away, their summer herding having been a good -investment for Fogg; and Justin returned to Paradise Valley, -clear-eyed, sturdy, and handsomer even than before. He had learned -well the to him necessary lesson of patience, and had tasted the joy -of duty well done. More than all, he had begun to find himself, and to -know that childhood and youth had fallen from him, and that he was a -man. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE TRAGEDY OF THE RANGE - - -Justin was startled by the changes which had come to Paradise Valley -in the closing weeks of his long isolation in the mountains. Steve -Harkness and Pearl Newcome were married, and Lucy Davison had been -sent East to school. The latter filled him almost with a feeling of -dismay. Among the other changes to be noted was that William Sanders -had written letters to a number of farmers, some of whom were now in -the valley and had taken government land or purchased mortgaged -quarter-sections. - -Justin discovered, in talks with them, that these men had been -neighbors of Sanders on the irrigated lands at Sumner. They had sold -out there, as Sanders had done, and having heard from him of the -possibilities of Paradise Valley, they had moved to it, with their -families and belongings. Others, it was reported, were coming. Some of -them brought a few cows, as well as horses; and before the winter -storms came they erected cheap dug-outs for themselves, and prepared -flimsy shelters and cut wild hay for their stock. It was their -intention to try irrigation. - -Justin soothed his disappointment at not seeing Lucy Davison by -writing many letters to her, to which she replied sparingly. He was -away from home much of the time, riding lonely lines with other -cowboys. Whenever he came home and found no letter from Lucy he felt -discouraged; when one was there, he returned to his work cheered and -comforted. As for Ben, Justin saw little of him. Davison kept them -well apart, by giving them separate assignments. - -In the severest of the winter storms, when the grass of the range had -been covered with snow for many days, the cattle breached the fences, -and mingling with cattle from other ranches they began to roam over -the mesas and valley, a terror to the settlers, and as destructive as -the locusts of Egypt. The cowboys could do nothing with them; could -not hold them on the open lines, and could not repair the broken -fences in the bitter cold and the blinding snow. It was a repetition -in miniature of the days when the whole of the Great Plains was an -open range, and cattle, shelterless and without food, wandered in the -winter storms in pitiable distress, dying by thousands. - -As it was useless and perilous to try to ride any line, Justin and the -other cowboys came home. Justin's feet and hands were frosted, and he -went to Clayton's, where he remained, to have the benefit of Clayton's -medical skill as well as his companionship. - -Clayton was so troubled by the sufferings of the cattle that he could -talk of little else. From his frost-covered windows weary bands of the -starving animals could be seen ploughing through the drifts. In each -band the largest and strongest were usually in the lead, breaking a -way through the snow; the others followed, moving slowly and weakly, -in single file, across the white wastes, their legs raw and bleeding -from contact with the cutting snow-crust. Their hair was so filled -with fine snow beaten in and compacted that often they resembled snow -banks, and they were wild-eyed, and gaunt to emaciation. - -Now and then a band would turn on its course and move back along the -path it had broken, eating the frozen grass which the trampling had -uncovered. Nothing in the way of food came amiss. The dry pods and -stalks of the milk-weed and the heads of thistles protruding through -the snow were hungrily snatched at. Unfenced stacks of wild hay -prepared by the farmers and settlers for their own stock, disappeared -like snow drifts in the spring sun, unless the owners were vigilant -and courageous enough to beat back the desperate foragers. Many wild -combats took place between the cattle and the exasperated farmers, and -more than one man escaped narrowly the impaling horns of some -infuriated steer. It seemed cruel to drive the cattle from the food -they so much needed, but the farmers were forced to it. - -Even Clayton and Justin found it necessary to issue forth, armed with -prodding pitchforks, and fight with the famishing cattle for the stack -of hay which Clayton had in store for his horse. He had fenced it in, -but the cattle breached the fence and he could not repair it perfectly -while the storm lasted. - -"The cattle business as it is carried on in this country is certainly -one of the most cruel forms of cruelty to animals," Clayton declared, -as he came in exhausted by one of these rights for the preservation of -his little haystack. "The cattlemen provide no feed or shelter; in -fact, with their immense herds that would be an impossible thing; and -you see the result. Their method works well enough when the winters -are mild, but more than half of them are not mild. Yet," he continued -sarcastically, "the cattlemen will tell you that it pays! If they do -not lose over twenty per cent, in any one year the business can stand -it. Think of it! A deliberate, coldblooded calculation which admits -that twenty out of every hundred head of cattle may be sacrificed in -this method of raising cattle on the open range! And the owners of the -cattle will stand up and talk to you mildly about such heartless -cruelty, and dare to call themselves men! Even Fogg will do it. As for -Davison, I suppose he was born and bred to the business and doesn't -know any better. But it's a burning shame." - -Justin was stirred as deeply. Clayton's viewpoint had become his own. -It lashed his conscience to feel that he was in some slight measure -responsible for the condition he was witnessing. He was connected with -the Davison ranch, if only as an employee. As for holding the cattle -behind the fences and the open lines, that had not been possible; yet, -if it could have been done, their condition would have been worse. By -breaking away they were given more land to roam over, and that meant -more milk-weed pods and thistle heads, and more slopes where a bit of -frosted grass was bared by the knife-like winds, to say nothing of the -stacks of hay now and then encountered. - -Yes, it was a burning shame. Justin felt it; and he grew sick at heart -as day by day he watched that tragedy of the unsheltered range, where -hundreds of hapless cattle were yielding up their lives. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -WITH SIBYL AND MARY - - -On her way home for a brief visit at the close of the summer, which -she had spent in the East, Lucy Davison stopped in Denver, to visit -Mary Jasper, from whom she had received glowing letters. Mary had not -written for several weeks, and Lucy was surprised to find her ill; an -illness resulting from the unaccustomed excitement of the Denver life -she led under the guidance of Sibyl Dudley and the too sudden -transition from the quiet of Paradise Valley. She was not seriously -ill, however, and looked very attractive, as she lay propped about -with cushions and pillows, her dark hair framing her face and her dark -eyes alight with eagerness when Lucy appeared. Lucy was almost -envious, as she contemplated Mary's undeniable beauty. - -Sibyl lavished attention and care on her charge, and she greeted Lucy -with every evidence of delight and affection. - -"My dear, you are tired!" she said. "Let me have some cakes and tea -brought up for you at once. A little wine, or some champagne, would be -good for you. You wouldn't care for it? Then we'll have the tea and -cakes. And Mary may sit up in bed a few minutes, just in honor of this -visit. It was so good of you to stop off in Denver to see her." - -Sibyl was very beautiful herself, quite as beautiful as Mary, though -very much older. Lucy thought she had not aged a day in appearance -since she had first met her, in the home of that acquaintance in the -little town at the entrance to Paradise Valley. Sibyl was past-master -of that wonderful preservative art which defies wrinkles and gray -hairs and the noiseless flight of that foe of all beautiful women, -Time. She defied Time, as she defied everything, except the small -conventionalities of life, and the changing fashions. She made friends -with these, and they served her well. - -While talking with Lucy, and nibbling at the cake or sipping the tea, -she stopped now and then to caress with coaxing tones her canary, -which she had brought into the room and hung in its gilded cage at the -window to brighten the place for Mary. She possessed naturally, or had -cultivated, that soft, low voice which a Great Poet has declared to be -an excellent thing in a woman, and she had assiduously cultivated an -outward appearance of much kindness; so that altogether she was very -charming, even in the eyes of Lucy Davison, and a most agreeable -hostess. Mary was delighted with her. - -"Do you know," said Mary, in a burst of confidence, which a favorable -opportunity brought, "she is so good! And she is as kind to the poor -as she can be. I know of two old women, and one old man, whom she -nearly supports. Of course it isn't really any sacrifice for her to do -it, for she is wealthy. It's the funniest thing, the way she speaks -about it. She says she gives things to poor people just because the -giving makes her feel good. 'Give a quarter to a beggar,' she says, -'and you will feel warm inside all day. It is a cheap way to purchase -comfort.'" - -In that same conversation Mary chanced to mention Curtis Clayton. - -"I spoke of him to Mrs. Dudley one day, and I asked her if she knew -him." - -"'Oh, yes, I know him,' she said; 'he is a fool, a poor fool!' - -"'He looks so comical,' I said to her, 'swinging that stiff arm!' - -"Then she looked at me--oh, I can't tell you how funny her eyes were -then, just as if coals were shining behind them, and she said, awfully -quiet: - -"'I happen to know how he got that--it was by doing a brave and -unselfish deed! He was in love with a beautiful but silly girl, whom I -knew.' - -"Then she told me the story. He was with this girl on his vacation. He -was in Yale then, and she was the daughter of a worthless -hotel-keeper. He first met her at the hotel while he was spending a -summer in the mountains. She knew that he loved her, and she was vain -of it, and she wanted to make him show it. There was a flower growing -in a cleft of a caon, and she asked him to get it for her. He -descended. It was dangerous; and she, looking over and pointing out -the flower, lost her footing and fell. She was caught by some bushes, -but she had a good fall, and landed at a point where she could not get -up. The fright that he got by seeing her fall caused him to lose his -footing, and he slipped and broke his left arm. To get her up he had -to reach down with one hand and hold to an aspen with the other. He -could only hold with his right hand, for his left arm was broken; so -he dangled his broken left arm over for her to clutch; and she, -frightened and selfish, gripped the hand, and after a great effort -scrambled up. He held on until she was safe, and then (he had already -turned white as death) he fainted. He revived after a time, and they -got out of there, forgetting the flower; and though the doctors did -what they could, he has had a stiff arm ever since." - -Mary shivered a little, sympathetically. - -"I can't ever think of Doctor Clayton now without seeing him with that -girl, dragging her out of that place with his broken arm. I asked Mrs. -Dudley if the girl married him after all that; and she said yes, but -it would have been better for him if she hadn't, if she had gone to -her death in the caon that day, for she wasn't a girl who could ever -make any man happy. And do you know, I think it must have been that -girl who caused him to live the life he is living!" - -A sudden confusion had attacked Lucy Davison, who recalled certain -conversations with Justin. They were in the nature of sacred -confidences, so could not be mentioned even to Mary Jasper; but she, -at least, knew that Sibyl was herself the girl whom Clayton had drawn -from the caon with that dangling broken arm, and whom he had -afterward married. Why had he deserted her, or she him? And why were -they now living apart? Believing that the name of Sibyl's husband had -been Dudley, Mary had failed to guess the truth. - -Mary told Lucy that it would not be surprising if Mrs. Dudley married -again, as there was "just the dearest man" who called on her with much -frequency and seemed to be greatly enamored of her. - -"He has a funny little bald head," said Mary, "and he wears glasses, -the kind you pinch on your nose; he keeps them dangling against his -coat by a black cord. And he is as kind as kind can be, and a perfect -gentleman. Mrs. Dudley says he is very rich, and I really believe she -will marry him some time, for she seems to like him." - -The name of this amiable gentleman, Lucy learned, was Mr. Plimpton, -and he was a Denver stock broker. Neither Mary nor Lucy dreamed of the -truth of his relations with Sibyl Dudley. - -Having recurred to people and affairs in Paradise Valley, Mary -chattered on like a gay little blackbird, and knew she was very -bewitching, bolstered among the pillows. Her illness had taken some of -the color out of her cheeks, yet they still showed a rosy tint when -contrasted with the pillows, and the whiteness of the pillows -emphasized the color of her eyes and hair. She asked Lucy to move the -little dresser farther along the wall, that she might see herself in -the mirror. She desired to get certain stubborn tangles out of her -hair, she averred; but she really wanted to contemplate her own -loveliness. - -"Mrs. Dudley puts the dresser that way for me sometimes, even when I -don't ask her to; and often I lay for hours, looking into the mirror, -when she has gone out of the room. It's like looking into the clouds, -you know. You remember how we used to lie on the rocks there by the -edge of the Black Caon and look up at the clouds? We could see all -kinds of things in them--men and horses, and wild animals, and just -everything. When I let myself dream into the mirror that way I can see -the same things there. And sometimes I try to picture what my future -will be. Once I thought I saw a man's face looking out at me, and it -wasn't Ben's! Mrs. Dudley said I had been dreaming, and didn't see -anything, but it seemed real. I suppose I shall marry Ben, of course, -just as you will marry Justin." - -Lucy's face flushed. - -"I don't see why that should be a matter of course!" - -"So you've seen some one in the East who is better looking? You can't -fool me! I know! What's his name?" - -"Truly I haven't seen any one in the East who is better looking. I -wasn't thinking of anything of the kind." - -"Then he is still the best looking, is he? If you still think so, it's -a sure sign that you'll marry him. That's why I think I shall marry -Ben. I haven't seen any one in Denver I like as well as Ben, or who is -as good looking; and one has a chance to see a good many men in a city -like this." - -"Has Ben been to call on you?" - -"Oh, yes; he was here only last week. When I first came up here I -couldn't get him to call, though I was told I might invite him. But -when he got started he kept coming and coming, and now he comes almost -too often. Mrs. Dudley has been very kind and good to him, and -sometimes I'm almost jealous, thinking he likes her almost as much as -he does me. I should be truly jealous, I think, if I didn't know about -Mr. Plimpton." - -She studied her mirrored reflection, wondering if it could be possible -for Ben to find Mrs. Dudley, who was so much older and had already -been married, more charming than herself. It was so unpleasant a -thought that she frowned; and then, remembering that frowns will spoil -even the smoothest forehead, she drove the frown away, and began to -talk again. - -Though Lucy Davison would not admit it, she was anxious to hasten on -to Paradise Valley; so she remained but a day with Mary Jasper. Yet in -that time Sibyl contrived to exhibit to her the carriage, the -magnificent horses and the liveried driver, taking her as she did so -on a long drive through some of the fashionable streets and avenues. - -As the carriage swung them homeward Sibyl made a purchase of fruits -and flowers, with which she descended into a shabby dwelling. When she -came out she was followed to the door by a slatternly woman, who -curtsied and thanked her volubly with a foreign accent. - -"She's an Italian--just a dago, as some people say--but her husband -has been sick for a month or more, and I try to brighten her home up a -bit. I don't know what he does when he's well; works for the railroad, -I believe." - -Then the carriage moved on again, away from the cheap tenements, and -into the wealthier sections once more, where Sibyl lived. - -"You mustn't tell father that I'm sick," was Mary's parting injunction -to Lucy. "If he knew he might want me to come home. I will be entirely -well by another week. I write to him every Sunday, just as if I was in -the best of health; and so long as I don't tell him he thinks I'm as -well as ever. And truly I am as well as ever, or will be in a few -days. If you tell him anything, tell him I'll be down to see him this -fall. I thought I should go last winter, but those awful storms came -on, and I was so busy besides, that I just didn't. But I do think of -him often, and you may tell him that, too, if you tell him anything." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WHEN AMBITION CAME - - -Lucy Davison was seldom absent from Justin's mind; and he was thinking -of her as he drove to town to make some purchases for Pearl, who, -though married, was still the housekeeper at the ranch. The knowledge -that Lucy was to arrive at home in a short time filled him with -longing and delight. - -As he drove along he could but note the appearance of the valley, and -the houses of the new settlers and the old. Sanders had purchased more -land, and had moved his dug-out close up to the trail and much nearer -to the river. He had been indefatigable in his efforts to induce -settlers to come into the valley, and successful to a degree that -surprised Justin and the Davisons, Of the newer arrivals several were -men of force and intelligence. They had given the valley their -approval, and had set to work. - -Sanders, it now appeared, had sold his land at Sumner for a -considerable sum of money. At Sumner, irrigation was being practiced -successfully. He was firm in his belief that Paradise Valley could be -irrigated as easily, and would make an agricultural section as rich. -Therefore, he and the new farmers, joined by certain of the older -ones, among them Sloan Jasper, had built a dam across the stream near -Jasper's and turned the water thus secured into some small canals, -from which laterals conveyed it to the places where it was required. - -They were working under unfavorable conditions, however; their dam was -cheaply and hastily constructed, and the canals and ditches being new -sucked up the water almost as fast as it could be turned into them. - -Naturally Davison and Fogg were not pleased. The water which the -farmers were using decreased the supply in the water-holes, and -threatened suffering for the cattle if a dry season came on. They did -not accept the theory promulgated by the farmers, that the water would -find its way back through the soil into the stream. That the new -enterprise troubled the ranchmen gave secret joy to William Sanders, -whose bitter and vindictive mind was filled with ineradicable hatred -of Davison and all connected with him. To strike a blow at Davison -delighted him immeasurably. - -Justin had a dusty drive that afternoon, for the land was dry. For -several days a strong south wind had been blowing, and the mountain -was draping its wide shoulders in misty vapor. These were good -portents of rain; and when rain came at that season, after a period of -drought, it came usually in a heavy storm. - -Ben Davison had set out for the town ahead of Justin, on his pony. Ben -had practically ceased to work on the ranch, except at intervals. He -was much in the company of Clem Arkwright, and enjoyed certain -pleasures of the town, to which Arkwright had introduced him. For one -thing, Arkwright played a game of poker that few men could beat. -Arkwright was a small politician, and by virtue of that fact held the -office of justice-of-the-peace. Arkwright had thrown his political -following to Ben's support, in a recent county convention; and that, -with the influence of Davison and Fogg, had given to Ben Davison the -nomination to the state legislature. - -As the bronchos climbed to the summit of a low divide, giving a long -view of the trail, Justin saw Ben, far ahead, nearing the town. It -gave him thought. Ben was not only ahead of him on the trail that day, -but in other ways. - -That summer of patient toil and sturdy thought spent high in the -mountains with the sheep had brought to Justin the knowledge that he -was now a man. As a man he was beginning to feel that he must do -something, must set about the work of making a place and a name for -himself in the world. Influenced by the idealist, Clayton, and by his -love for Lucy, he had heretofore fed on love and dreams. He still -loved, and he still dreamed, but he knew now that to these must be -added action and accomplishment. - -No one understood Ben Davison's unworthiness more thoroughly than -Justin. Because of the influence of his father and the support given -to his candidacy by a tricky politician Ben was apparently on the high -road to political preferment and honors. His name was mentioned in the -Denver dailies, and his picture was in the county paper. - -Philip Davison was pleased, probably Lucy was pleased also, and Justin -felt that he really ought to look upon the matter in a kindly and -amiable light. Yet, even as he thought so, he felt his heart burning. - -"I might have had that nomination, if things had been different!" - -That was Justin's thought. He knew to the core of his being that in -every way he was better qualified than Ben Davison to fill that -important place. He had not only mental but moral qualities which Ben -totally lacked. In addition, the position and the honor appealed to -his growing desire to be something and do something. It would give -opportunity to talents which he was sure he possessed. Denver -represented the great world beyond, where men struggled for the things -worth while. Ben Davison would go to Denver, become a member of the -legislature, and would have the doors of possibility opened to him, -when he had not the ability nor the moral stamina to walk through them -when they were opened, and he--Justin--would remain--a cowboy. - -When Justin reached the town, which consisted of a double row of frame -houses strung along the railroad track, he hitched the bronchos to the -pole in front of one of the stores and proceeded to the purchase of -the groceries required by the housekeeper. That done he walked to -the postoffice for the ranch mail. As he came out with it in his hands -and began to look over the county paper, where he saw Ben Davison's -name and political qualifications blazoned, he observed several men -converging toward a low building. Over its door was a sign, "Justice -of the Peace." - -"Arkwright's got a trial on to-day," said one of the men, speaking to -him. "You ranchers air gittin' pugnacious. Borden has brought suit -against Sam Turner for the killin' of them cattle. I s'pose you heard -about it?" - -Justin's interest was aroused. He was acquainted with both Arkwright -and Borden, and he knew of the killing of the cattle, but he had not -heard of the lawsuit. Borden's ranch lay over beyond the first mesa, -along Pine Creek. It had been established since the Davison ranch. Not -all the line between the two ranches was fenced, and the open line -Justin had ridden for a time with one of Borden's cowboys. - -There were a few settlers along Pine Creek, one of them being Sam -Turner, a young farmer from Illinois. Justin remembered Turner well, -and Turner's wife, a timid little woman wholly unfit for the life she -was compelled to live in this new country. She had a deathly fear of -Borden's cowboys, a fear that was too often provoked by their actions. -They were chiefly Mexicans and half-breeds, a wild lot, much given to -drinking, and often when they came riding home from the town in their -sprees they came with their bronchos at a dead run, firing their -revolvers and yelling like Indians as they swept by Turner's house. -Whenever she saw them coming Mrs. Turner would catch up her little -girl in her arms, dart into the house, lock and bar the doors, and -pull down the blinds. The cowboys observed this, and it aroused them -to even wilder demonstrations; so that now they never passed Turner's -without a fusillade and a demoniacal outburst of yells. - -The death of the cattle had come about through no fault of Turner. -They had simply broken down a fence during a storm, and getting into -Turner's sorghum had so gorged themselves with the young plants that -some of them had died. It did not seem to matter to Borden that -Turner's sorghum had been devoured. In his rage over his loss Turner -had threatened violence, and Borden was answering with this suit for -damages for the loss of the cattle. - -Justin squeezed into the midst of the crowd that already filled the -office. Clem Arkwright's red face showed behind his desk, which was -raised on a platform. Justin, still thinking of Lucy and Ben, looked -at Arkwright with interest. He did not admire Arkwright himself, but -Ben Davison thought highly of him, and that was something. A heap of -law books was stacked on Arkwright's desk. A pair of pettifogging -lawyers had been kicking up a legal dust, and one of them, Borden's -lawyer, was still at it. As the lawyer talked, Clem Arkwright took -down one of the books and began to examine a decision to which his -attention was called. - -While Arkwright looked at the decision, the lawyer went right on, -pounding the book he held in his hand and shaking his fist now and -then at the justice and now and then at Sam Turner and the opposing -lawyer. Turner sat with his counsel, and at intervals whispered in his -ear. Justin had never attended a trial and he found it interesting. -His sympathies were with Turner. - -From the claims made by Borden's lawyer, it appeared that Sam Turner -was wholly in the wrong. He should have guarded his crops or fenced -his land. He had done neither, and as a result Borden's cattle had -lost their lives and Borden had sustained financial loss. Borden was -not required to maintain a fence, nor to employ riders to hold the -cattle beyond any certain imaginary line, the lawyer maintained; but -he had kept riders so employed, and had built a fence on a part of his -range. He had done these things, that his cattle might not become -mixed up with cattle belonging to other ranches, and particularly, as -it appeared, in pure kindness of heart, that they might not trespass -on the farms of such men as the defendant. It was admitted that Turner -had a perfect right to live on and cultivate his land; it was his, to -do with as he pleased, by virtue of title conveyed to him by the -government under the homestead laws. But he was compelled, if he -wished to prevent trespass of this kind, to erect and maintain a -stock-tight fence, or guard his land in some other substantial way; -and having failed to do that, he should be mulcted in damages for the -loss sustained by the plaintiff. - -Justin was listening with much interest to the argument of Borden's -lawyer, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning about he beheld -William Sanders. - -"We want to see you outside a minute er two," said Sanders. - -He tried to smile pleasantly, but there was a queer gleam in his -little eyes. - -"All right," said Justin, wondering what Sanders could want. - -Several farmers and a few of the citizens of the town were awaiting -him outside, he discovered, and had sent Sanders in to get him. - -"We want to have a talk with you about the election," said one of -them. "We'll go into that back room over there; we've got the -privilege of using it awhile." - -Sloan Jasper shambled up, his hands in his pockets. - -"Howdy, Justin!" he exclaimed, with an anxious smile. "I've been -talkin' round a bit amongst my friends, and what I've said about you I -don't take back for any man." - -Somewhat bewildered, Justin accompanied these men into the vacant room -they had indicated, back of one of the stores. Here William Sanders -established himself at a small table; the doors were closed, the men -dropped into seats, and Sanders rapped with his knuckles for order. -That queer gleam still shone in his little eyes. - -"Gentlemen," he said, rising, "I'm goin' to ask Mr. Jasper to set out -the object of this meetin'. Me and him talked it up first, I guess; -and he understands it as well as I do, and maybe can set it out -better." - -Sloan Jasper shambled to his feet, declaring that he was no speaker; -and then proceeded to a heated denunciation of the ranchmen and their -methods. - -"How many times have they tramped me an' my farm under foot as if we -was muck?" he asked. "That trial over there before that scoundrel, -Arkwright, is a sample of it. They've run the county till they think -they own it. But they don't own me! Justin hyer is a cowboy and can -draw cowboy votes. We all think well of him, because we know he can be -depended on to do the fair thing by everybody. That's all we're -askin'--the fair thing; we don't want to take advantage of anybody, er -injure anybody; but we do intend to protect ourselves, and to do it -we've got to stand together, and stand up fer men who will stand up -fer us. There's certain things that will come before this next -legislature in which we're interested. If Ben Davison sets in it as -the representative frum this county he'll vote ag'inst us every time. -Now, there's a lot o' men in this town who don't like him, ner -Arkwright; and all over the county it's the same way. So I say if -we'll stand together, us farmers, as one man, and can git somebody -that the cowboys like to run ag'inst Ben Davison, we can beat him out -of his boots, fer he ain't popular, though the newspaper and his -friends is tryin' to make it out that he is. And that's why we're -hyer--a sort of delegation of the farmers an' the people of the town -who have talked the thing over; an' we're goin' to ask Justin Wingate -to make the race fer us ag'inst Ben Davison. If he does it, we'll take -off our coats and work fer him until the sun goes down on the day of -election; and so help me God, I believe as truly as I stand hyer, that -we can elect him, and give Ben Davison the worst beatin' he'll ever -git in his life." - -Sloan Jasper sat down with flushed face, amid a round of applause. -Before Justin could get upon his feet, William Sanders was speaking. -He said he had come to see that Justin was the man they wanted--the -man who could make the race and have a chance of winning; and for that -reason he favored him, and would do all in his power for him, if he -would run. - -Justin was confused and gratified. His pulses leaped at the bugle call -of a new ambition. He knew how justly unpopular Ben was. It was -possible, it even seemed probable, that if he became the candidate of -the men who would naturally oppose the ranching interests he could -defeat Ben Davison. But would not such an attempt be akin to -treachery? He was in the employ of Philip Davison. - -"I don't think I ought to consider such a thing," he urged, in some -confusion, without rising to his feet. "Mr. Davison has treated me -well. I want to remain on friendly terms with him and with Ben. I -couldn't do that, if I ran against Ben. I'm obliged to you, just the -same, you know, for the compliment and the honor; but, really, I don't -think I ought to consider it." - -He saw these men believed that he and Ben Davison were not on terms of -good friendship; on that they based their hope that he would become -their candidate. They were not to be dissuaded easily, and they -surrounded him, and plied him with appeals and arguments. - -"We'll give you till Thursday to think it over," they said, still -hoping to win him. "We're going to put some one up against Ben, and -you're the one we want." - -Though Justin did not retreat from his declaration that it was a thing -he should not consider, they observed that he did not say he would not -consider it. The stirrings of ambition, the flattery of their words, -and the gratifying discovery that the world regarded him now as a -full-grown man, kept him from saying that. - -Just beyond the town, as he proceeded homeward, he was overtaken by -Ben Davison, who had ridden hard after him on his pony. Ben's face was -white, his eyes unnaturally bright, and his hand shook on his -bridle-rein. - -"I've been hearing that talk in town," he began, "and I want to know -about it!" - -Justin felt the hot blood sing in his ears. With difficulty he crowded -down the violent temper that leaped for utterance. - -"What did you hear?" he asked. - -"That you intend to run against me." - -Justin gave him a look that made the shining eyes shift and turn away. - -"Some of the farmers, and others, want you to run," said Ben. - -"Yes, that is true." - -"And do you intend to?" - -"I haven't said that I did." - -"Well, I want to know!" - -"What if I decline to answer?" - -Ben changed his tone. - -"It will make trouble for me, if you run. If you keep out of it I've -got the thing cinched--they can't beat me, for I will pull the cowboy -vote. You might split that vote. I don't say I think you could be -elected, for I don't; but it would make me a lot of trouble, and would -kick up bad feeling all round." - -"In what way?" said Justin, speaking coldly. He was studying Ben -closely; he had never seen his face so white nor his eyes so -unnaturally bright. - -"Well, with father, for one thing. He wouldn't like it; he wants me to -be elected, and has already spent a lot of money." - -"Ben," said Justin, speaking slowly, "you have yourself to blame -largely for this stirring up of the farmers. You have made them hate -you. They will put up some one against you, whether I run or not." - -"They can't beat me, unless they run some fellow who can swing the -cowboy vote, and they know it. That's why they came to you." - -"Yes; they said it was." - -"You told them you wouldn't run?" - -"I told them I ought not consider it." - -"Well, that's right; you oughtn't." - -"But I want you to understand, Ben, that I have just as good a right -to run as you have!" - -"I don't think so; not while you're working for father, and when I'm -already in the race." - -Mentally, Justin acknowledged that this was a point well taken. - -"You won't run?" said Ben, anxiously. - -Justin hesitated, shifting uneasily on the high spring seat. - -"N-o, I hardly think I ought to." - -"Thank you! I wanted to make sure." - -Ben wheeled his pony, and galloped back toward the town. - -"Am I easy?" Justin asked himself, as his eyes followed the receding -figure. "But, really, it does seem that I oughtn't to think of such a -thing, under the circumstances. Davison would be angry--and I don't -suppose Lucy would be at all pleased." - -He drove on, turning the matter over in his mind, recalling with -pleasure the flattery of the farmers, and wondering why Ben Davison's -face looked so unnaturally white and his eyes so bright. He knew that -anger alone was not the cause. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -IN THE STORM - - -The threatened rainstorm broke, bringing early night, as Justin -reached home. Lemuel Fogg was at the ranch house with Davison. Fogg's -shining photograph wagon had been brought out and a pair of horses -hitched to it. - -"Ben isn't here," said Davison; "I suppose he's in town, looking after -election matters; so, as soon as you can get those things into the -house, I want you to ride along the line fence and see that everything -is all right, for we don't want any cattle breaking out and making -trouble with the farmers just now. Fogg and I are going up the trail -together in his wagon. He wants to get a photograph. We'll be near the -dam, or a short distance below it, where Jasper's lateral makes out -into his fields. I think you will find us at the bridge there over the -lateral, and you can come there and make your report, when you've -looked at the fence. Report promptly, if there's any trouble." - -Fogg came out of the house in oil hat and slicker, buttoned to the -chin against the storm. He resembled a yellow, overgrown Santa Claus, -minus the beard. - -"Hello, Justin!" he cried, advancing and extending his hand, as Justin -swung a bag of meal to the ground. "We're in for a good ground-soaker, -I guess. The lightning is beginning to play fine. It's great over -there on the mountain. When she gets to going good I'll try to nail -one of the flashes down on a negative. I've tried a dozen times and -failed; now I'm going to try again." - -Having shaken hands, Fogg ran heavily toward the wine-colored wagon; -the rain was beginning to roar, and the interior of the wagon, as he -knew, was as tight as a house. Then the shining wagon whirled away, -with the rain drops glistening on it, revealed by the lightning, which -was already waving fiery swords in the sky. - -Justin followed on his cow-pony as quickly as he could, garbed like -Fogg in a yellow oil slicker, and galloped along the wire fence that -ran here toward the town. It was not a pleasant ride. The gusty rain -beat in his face and the wind blew a tempest. The lightning, -increasing in frequency, showed the fence intact, as far as the lower -end of the deep chasm called the Black Caon, which cut through the -mesa above Jasper's. There was no need to go farther than this, for he -had inspected that portion of the fence earlier in the day. - -The storm was in full swing before he reached Jasper's lateral. He -followed it until he came to the tiny bridge that spanned it, and -there found the photograph wagon. Sheltered within the wagon, Fogg had -trained his camera toward the mountain. There the play of the -lightning had become something stupendous. Davison was trying to hold -the bronchos and keep them quiet in the beating rain. - -"I've taken several exposures already," Fogg announced, when Justin -made his appearance and his report. "If those horses can be kept still -another minute I'll try it there just over the dam." - -A blinding flash burned across the sky. It was so vivid that Justin -closed his eyes against it. The burst of the thunder, like the -explosion of a cannon, was thrown back by the stony walls of the -mountain, and rolled away, booming and bellowing in the clouds. The -thunder roll was followed shortly by a confused and jarring crash. - -"I got that flash all right, I think," said Fogg, "and there goes the -side of the mountain!" - -Landslides occurred occasionally on the sides of the mountain, and -Fogg thought this was one. - -"No," Davison shouted, "it's--the dam!" - -Another crash was heard, accompanied by a popping of breaking timbers; -then, with a roar like a cyclone, the dam went out, sweeping down the -swollen stream in a great tangle of logs and splintered timbers. -Justin galloped toward the stream. - -"Better look out there, Justin," Fogg bellowed at him. "That will -bring the river out on the jump, and you don't want to get caught by -it!" - -Justin heard the wagon being driven away from the little bridge. It -was an exciting minute, yet he had time to think with regret of what -the loss of the dam would mean to the farmers. His reflections were -cut short by a scream, followed by a cry for help. - -Then in the lightning's white glare he saw on the ground before him a -woman clinging to the prostrate form of a man. Justin galloped wildly, -and reaching them leaped down. To his amazement the woman was Lucy -Davison and the man was Ben. She had apparently dragged him beyond the -reach of the water that splashed and rolled in a wild flood but a few -yards away. - -"Help me," she said, without explanation. "He--he is hurt, I think." - -Justin had his arms round Ben instantly, and began to lift him. The -rain was falling in sheets, and both Lucy and Ben were drenched. Ben -began to help himself, and climbed unsteadily to his feet, with -Justin's assistance. Only in the intervals between the vivid lightning -flashes could Justin see either Ben or Lucy. - -"I'm--I'm all right!" said Ben, staggering heavily. - -"I'm afraid he was hit by one of the timbers of the dam," Lucy -declared. - -To Justin she seemed abnormally brave. She took hold of Ben's arm and -assisted in supporting him. - -"We must get him to the house--to Jasper's," she urged, tremulously. - -"The photograph wagon is right over there," Justin informed her. -"We'll take him to that. If you'll lead my horse maybe I can carry -him." - -"I don't need to be carried," said Ben, stubbornly. "I tell you I'm -all right. I slipped and fell--that's all. Take your hands off of me; -I can walk." - -Lucy clung to him, and Justin did not release his hold. He hallooed -now to Davison and Fogg. They did not hear him in the roar of the -storm, but by the glare of the lightning they saw the little group -swaying near the margin of the wild stream and drove back to discover -the meaning of the strange sight. They shouted questions of surprise, -as they came up. Justin had not attempted to voice his bewilderment. - -Lucy became the spokesman of the group. - -"Uncle Philip, we will explain later," she said, with emphasis. "The -first thing is to get Ben home." - -"Yes, that's so!" Davison admitted, his anxiety for Ben betrayed in -his shaking voice. - -Ben was helped into the photograph wagon; where he would not lie down, -but insisted on sitting in the driver's seat. Justin assisted Lucy -into the wagon. It was a large wagon, in which Fogg had lived and -slept in the old days when he went about taking photographs and -selling curios. Justin wished he might climb in there by Lucy's side, -and do something, or say something, that would allay her evident -distress. Her voice was unnaturally hard, and her manner singularly -abrupt and emphatic. He knew that she was suffering. - -And he had not known she was in Paradise Valley! That was the most -inexplicable of all--that she should be there and no one on the ranch -aware of the fact. - -"She must have arrived on the evening train," was his conclusion. - -However, that explained little. How did she and Ben chance to be -there by the river? Had they been walking home from the town -together--through the storm? Where was Ben's pony? That might have -escaped from him, or he might have left it somewhere; but the other -question was not to be answered readily. The whole subject was so -cloaked in the mysterious that it seemed to defy analysis. - -The storm still raged, with sheets of beating rain, with lightning -fire and roll of thunder, as the wagon moved swiftly in the direction -of the ranch house along the soaked and gullied trail. And behind it, -galloping on his cow-pony, rode Justin, pondering the meaning and the -mystery of the things he had seen and heard. - -Yet through it all there was a certain sense of joy and gratification. -He had been able to serve the woman he loved, and she was here at -home. The first long, long separation was ended--she was home again. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -A FLASH OF LIGHTNING - - -As the photograph wagon was halted at the gate which led to the ranch -house grounds Lucy Davison spoke to Justin, from the rear of the -wagon. Her tones were solicitous, and anxious: - -"Justin," she said, "it's too bad to have to ask you to do it in this -storm, but I wish you would go back to Mr. Jasper's and get Ben's -pony, which he left there in the stable. I have a horse there, too, -which I rode out from town. Get both of them, and put them in the -stable here. You won't mind the extra trip? I ought to have spoken to -you of it before." - -Justin was about to assure her that he would go willingly; when she -continued, in lower tones: - -"And Justin! Don't say anything about getting the horses from there, -please. I will tell you why later. And I will explain everything to -Uncle Philip." - -She had lifted the closed flap that protected the rear end of the -wagon, and in the flame of the lightning which still burned across the -skies he saw her pale and anxious face. She had always been beautiful -in his eyes, but never more so than at that moment, while making this -distressed appeal, even though her clothing exuded moisture and her -hair was plastered to her head by the rain. Her pleading look haunted -him for hours afterward. - -"I'll go," he said promptly, "and I will have the horses here in a -little while." - -"Thank you, Justin," she said, in a way she had never spoken to him -before. "And say nothing to anybody! I think you will not find Mr. -Jasper at home; but you know where the stable is, and how to get into -it." - -The wagon rolled on into the ranch house grounds, where Ben was helped -out and into the house; and Justin galloped back along the trail to -Sloan Jasper's, having been given another surprise and further food -for thought. - -When he returned with Ben's pony and the horse Lucy had hired in the -town, and had put them in the stable with his own dripping animal, he -entered the ranch house. Pearl opened the door for him; and as he -removed his wet slicker he heard Philip Davison explaining to Steve -Harkness that the farmers' dam had been torn out by the storm. Then -Fogg came toward him, and in the light at the farther end of the long -hall he saw Lucy, who had changed her clothing and descended from her -room. Ben Davison was not to be seen. - -"I reckon you're as wet as they make 'em," said Fogg, "but, just the -same, if you'll step in here we'll see what I've got on this plate." - -He was on his way to the dark room he had fitted up in the house for -his photographic work. - -Lucy came up to Justin, as Fogg walked on to this room. She looked him -anxiously in the face. - -"Yes, I brought the horses?" he said, interpreting the look. - -"And said nothing to any one?" - -"I have spoken to no one." - -She thanked him with her eyes. - -"You are just soaked," she said, "and you ought to go out to the bunk -rooms and get dry clothing at once. I don't want to have you get sick -because of that." - -"A little wetting won't hurt me, and I'm going in here before I change -my clothes. Fogg wants to show me his picture, if he got one." - -He followed Fogg, and she went with him, without invitation. - -"What sort of picture did he take? I heard him saying something about -it." - -"He was trying to photograph a flash of lightning. I don't know how he -succeeded." - -He stopped at the doorway and might have said more, if Fogg had not -requested him to come on in and close the door. - -"This is the last plate I exposed, and I'm going to try it first," -said Fogg, as he made his preparations. - -Fogg was an enthusiast on the subject of photography, and had long -desired to catch a lightning flash with his camera. - -"If I haven't got it now I'll never have a better chance. That flash, -just before the dam broke--wasn't it great? The whole sky flamed in a -way to blind a fellow. For a second or so I couldn't see a thing. I -had the camera focussed and pointed just right to get that in great -shape, it seems to me. Now we'll see the result." - -He placed the plate in the tray and turned the developer on it. Justin -and Lucy were standing together, with heads almost touching, watching -with interest to see the picture appear. - -"I've got something, anyhow," said Fogg, when he saw the streak which -the lightning had printed stand out, as it were, on the plate. "I -think I've got a picture of the dam, too. The camera was trained on -the mountain, right across the top of the dam; I thought if I got the -lightning I might have a great combination, with the dam and other -things showing." - -"You've got the lightning flash all right," said Justin, bending -forward. - -"Yes, that's coming out great; see the image develop!" - -He stopped, with a whistle of astonishment. - -"Hello!" he exclaimed. "What's this?" - -A remarkable picture was coming--had come--into view. Fogg stared, -with rounded eyes; Lucy uttered a little cry of dismay and fright; -Justin caught his breath with a gasp of astonishment. - -Small wonder. On the end of the dam nearest the trail two human -figures were shown--a man standing on the dam with axe descending and -a woman rushing toward him over the slippery logs. The figures were -not large, but they were portrayed clearly. They were the figures of -Ben and Lucy Davison, caught there by the camera, in the mad turmoil -of the lashing storm. - -For a moment not a word was spoken, while the figures seemed to swim -more clearly into view. Lucy broke the dead silence. - -"May I see that plate, Mr. Fogg?" - -Her voice was repressed and hard, as if she struggled with some -violent emotion. - -"I--don't--why, yes, of course, look at it all you want to. But I -don't--" - -The sentence was broken by a crash of falling glass. Lucy had either -dashed the plate to the floor, or had let it fall in her agitation. - -Justin almost leaped when he heard that sound. Lucy looked at him, and -for a moment he thought she was going to cry out. But again she spoke, -turning to Fogg. - -"Well, I'm glad it's broken!" she declared, nervously. "You saw what -you saw, Mr. Fogg; but there is no reason why you should remember it. -I hope you won't. Perhaps one of the other plates will show a -lightning flash. You couldn't have used this, anyway." - -"Well, may I be--" Fogg caught himself. "Lucy, you broke that -intentionally!" - -She turned on him with flashing eyes. - -"Mr. Fogg, I did. You saw what was in that picture. You know what it -told, or you will know when you think it over. I broke it so that it -could never be used or seen by anybody. I'm glad I saw it just when I -did. I beg your pardon, but I had to do it." - -Was this the Lucy Justin fancied he knew so well? He was astonished -beyond measure. - -"Yes, I guess you're right," Fogg admitted, as soon as he was able to -say anything. "That dam went out, and--yes, I guess you're right! It -wouldn't do for that picture to be seen. I've been wondering how you -happened to be where we found you, and what you and Ben were doing -there." - -"Mr. Fogg," her tones were sharp, "don't accuse me even in your mind; -I had nothing to do with it, but tried to stop it." She hesitated. -"And--whatever you think, please don't say anything to Uncle Philip; -not now, at any rate; and don't tell him about the picture." - -She turned to the door. - -"Justin," she said, and her tones altered, "I'll see you to-morrow; or -this evening, if you like." - -"This evening," he begged; and following her from the room, he hurried -out to the bunk house to shift into dry clothing. - -When he saw her again, in the little parlor, she was pale, and he -thought she had been crying, but her agitation and her strange manner -were both gone. He came to the window where she stood, and with her -looked out into the stormy night. The white glare of the lightning -illuminated the whole valley at times. About the top of the mountain -it burned continually. The cottonwoods and willows were writhing by -the stream. On the roof and the sides of the house the dashing rain -pounded furiously. - -"Justin," she said, as he stood beside her, "I must explain that to -you. You know what that picture meant?" - -He wanted to fold her in his arms and comfort her, when he heard her -voice break, but he checked the desire. - -"I could guess," he said. - -"I came down from Denver on the late train, having missed the earlier -one." - -"I was in town when the earlier one came in," he informed her, -regretting for the moment that his too speedy return had kept him from -meeting her there. "If I had known you were coming!" - -She looked at him fondly, as in the old days. How beautiful she was, -though now very pale! He felt that he had not been mistaken in -thinking her the most beautiful girl in the world. The East had -certainly been kind to her. - -"It was to be a surprise for you--you great boy, and for Uncle Philip. -I had no idea how it would turn out. In the town I got a horse. The -storm was threatening, but I thought I could get home. Just before I -reached Jasper's I overtook Ben on his pony. I'm telling you this, -Justin, because I know you will never mention it!" - -"I will never speak of it," he promised. - -"I knew you wouldn't. Now, you must never mention this, either--but -Ben had been drinking." - -Justin understood now the meaning of Ben's white face and glittering -eyes. - -"I never knew him to drink before," she went on, "and I shouldn't have -known it this evening but for the way he talked. Politics, and that -man Arkwright, caused it, I'm sure. He was raging, Justin--that is the -word, raging--against you and the farmers, and particularly against -Mr. Jasper and Mr. Sanders. He claimed they had tried to get you to -run against him for the legislature. He talked like a crazy man, and -made such wild threats that he frightened me." - -Justin wanted to express his mind somewhat emphatically. It seemed -best to say nothing; yet that picture of Ben Davison raging against -him and frightening Lucy gave him a suffocating sense of wrath. - -"The storm struck us just before we reached Mr. Jasper's house, and we -turned in there for shelter. Jasper wasn't at home, but the door -wasn't locked and we went in." - -"Jasper was in town," said Justin. - -"Ben put the horses in the stable," she went on, without noticing the -interruption. "When he had done that, and had come into the house out -of the rain, he began to rave again. After awhile he said he would go -out and see how the horses were doing and give them some hay; but I -saw him pick up an axe in the yard and start toward the dam. Though -the storm was so bad, I followed him, for he had been swearing -vengeance against the farmers, and from some things he had said I -guessed what he meant to do. When I reached him he was on the dam, -chopping at one of the key logs, and had cut it almost in two." - -She trembled, as that memory swept over her. - -"I rushed out upon the dam, when I saw what he was doing, and begged -him to stop. He tried to push me away, and I came near falling into -the water; but I clung to him, and then the axe slipped out of his -hands and fell into the stream. The logs began to crack; and that, -with the loss of the axe, made him willing to go back with me. We ran, -and had just reached the shore when the dam gave way. The ground was -slippery, and he fell as we ran toward the house through the storm; -and when he lay there like a log, and I couldn't get him up, my nerves -gave way, and I screamed. Then you heard me. That is all; except the -photograph." - -The calm she had maintained with difficulty forsook her as she -finished, her voice broke, and her tears fell like rain. - -Justin slipped his arm about her. - -"You were brave, Lucy!" was all he could find to say. - -He had never realized how brave she could be. - -"And, Justin, nothing must ever be said about it! It would ruin Ben; -it might even put him in prison. I needn't have told you; but I wanted -to, and I know you won't say anything about it." - -Justin did not stop to think whether this were right or wrong. He gave -the promise instantly. - -They began to talk of other things. She seemed not to want to say -anything more on the disagreeable subject; and Justin was glad to have -her talk of herself, of her school life, and her Eastern experiences. -Somehow the old sense of intimacy had in a measure departed. He -withdrew his hand from about her waist, that was still slender and -girlish. She had been removed to a great distance from him, it seemed. -Yet, outwardly, she had not changed, except for the better. She was -more womanly, more gracious, now that her tears had been shed and her -thoughts had turned into other channels, even than in the old days. -Nevertheless, Justin could not at once summon courage to say to her -the old sweet nothings in which both had delighted. - -"You are still my sweetheart?" he ventured timidly, by and by. "The -East hasn't changed you any in that respect, I hope?" - -She looked at him earnestly, and her eyes grew luminous. - -"No, Justin, not in the least; but there is one thing, which has come -to me while I was away. We aren't children any longer." - -"I am well aware of that fact," he said; "I have been painfully aware -of it, all evening." - -She knew what he meant. - -"We aren't children any longer; you are a man now, and I am a woman. I -heard a sermon the other Sunday, from those verses in which Paul said -he had put away childish things and no longer acted or thought as a -child. Long ago I told you that I loved you, and promised to marry you -some time; I haven't forgot that." - -"I shall never forget it!" - -"But now that we're no longer children, I think it is your duty to -speak to Uncle Philip." - -The thought of facing Philip Davison on such a mission flushed -Justin's face. Yet he did not hesitate. - -"I will do so," he promised; "I ought to have been courageous enough -to do it long ago, and without you telling me to." - -Instantly he felt taller, stronger, more manly. He knew he was -deliriously happy. To feel the soft pressure of her body against his, -the electric touch of her hand, and to hear her say that she loved -him, and would some time marry him, thrilled him. He looked down into -her face, with the love light strong in his eyes. He recalled how he -had loved her during her long absence. - -"You didn't see any one while you were gone that you thought you could -love better?" - -He believed he knew what the answer would be, but he awaited it -breathlessly. - -"I oughtn't to say so, Justin, until after you have spoken to Uncle -Philip; but I saw no one I could love half as much as you--no one." - -"Yet you saw many men?" - -She laughed lightly; it was like sunshine after rain. - -"Not so very many as you might think. Mrs. Lassell's Finishing School -for Young Ladies is a very exclusive and select place, you must -remember. She holds a very tight rein over the girls placed in her -charge." - -"Is it so bad as that? It's a good thing for me, I guess, that she is -so careful; you might get to see someone you could like better than -me." - -She laughed again, seeing the anxiety he strove to cover. - -"If you've been accumulating wrinkles and gray hairs on account of -that you've been very foolish." - -"Your last letter didn't seem quite as genial as some others!" - -"I didn't underscore the important words, or write them in red ink?" - -She became suddenly grave. The events of the evening haunted her like -a bad dream. - -He stooped low above her bended head. - -"I love you," he whispered; "and I'm going to ask you again if you -love me, just to hear you say it!" - -She looked up at him, tremulously. - -"Justin, I love you, and I love you! There, don't ask me again, until -after you have spoken to Uncle Philip." - -His blue eyes were shining into the depths of her brown ones; and with -a quick motion he stooped and kissed her. - -"No one was looking, and no one could see us in here," he said, as she -gave a start and her pale face flushed rosy red. - -"I will speak to Mr. Davison to-morrow," he promised, as if to make -amends. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -BEN DAVISON'S TRIUMPH - - -Justin made that call on Philip Davison in much trepidation, and -broached the subject with stammering hesitation and flushed face. -Davison was non-committal, until he had heard him through. Yet, -looking earnestly at this youth, he saw how prepossessing Justin was -in appearance, how clear-cut, frank and intelligent was his face, with -its expressive blue eyes, how shapely the head under its heavy, -dark-brown hair. Justin's costume was that of a cowboy, but it became -him. There was a not unkindly light in Davison's florid face and he -stroked his beard thoughtfully, as Justin made his plea. But his words -were not precisely what Justin hoped to hear. - -"I don't blame you for thinking well of Lucy," he said; "she is a rare -girl; and the man who takes her for his wife with my consent must show -some qualities that will make me think he is worthy of her. I've -thought well of you, Justin, and I think well of you now. That you're -a cowboy isn't anything that I would hold against you; a cowboy can -become a cattle king, if he's got the right kind of stuff in him. -Everything depends on that." - -"I intend to do something, to become something, make something of -myself," Justin urged, his face very hot and uncomfortable. "I haven't -had time to do much yet, and my opportunities haven't been very good. -I've succeeded in getting a pretty fair education." - -"But would you have done even that, if Clayton hadn't driven you on to -it? You've got brains, and he coaxed you to study, and of course you -learned. But in other things you're not doing nearly so well as Ben, -for instance. Ben will go into the state legislature this fall, and -he's not so very much older than you." - -The flush deepened on Justin's face. - -"I shall try to make the most of myself," he declared, somewhat -stiffly. That reference to Ben was not pleasing. - -"See that you do. Then you can come to me later. I shall speak to Lucy -about this. There isn't any hurry in the matter, for she has two more -years in that school." - -He dismissed the matter abruptly, with an inquiry about the line -fences and a mention of the destroyed dam. - -"I told those farmers their dam wouldn't hold," he declared, with -something akin to satisfaction in his tone. "I knew it couldn't, the -way they put it together. They wouldn't believe me, for they thought I -had some axe to grind in saying it; but now they see for themselves." - -Justin wondered what Philip Davison would say if he knew the truth. He -did not even comment on Davison's statement, but left the room as soon -as he could do so without brusqueness. - -Sloan Jasper, representing the opposition to Ben Davison, came to him -the next day, which was Thursday. - -"How about that, Justin?" he asked, anxious yet hopeful. - -Justin had been given time to think, and his answer was ready. - -"It wouldn't be possible for me to run against Ben--it wouldn't be -right." - -"He ain't fit fer the place, and you know it!" - -"I can't run against him, Mr. Jasper." - -Jasper was almost angry. - -"Well, we'll git somebody that will. You could split the cowboy vote." - -"Perhaps I could, but I can't make the race." - -"Maybe Davison thinks we're done fer, jist because that dam went out; -but he'll soon know better. We'll put in a new dam, and we'll have our -rights hyer in the valley; and we're goin' to beat Ben Davison fer the -legislature, if talk and votes and hard work can do it." - -Sloan Jasper and the farmers were very much in earnest. They found a -man who was willing to stand in opposition to Ben Davison, and the -campaign which followed was heated and bitter. With sealed lips Justin -continued his round of work on the ranch. A word from him, from Fogg, -or from Lucy Davison, would not only have wrecked Ben's political -prospects, but would have landed him in prison. That word was not -spoken. The opposition exerted its entire strength, but Ben Davison -was elected triumphantly. - -The day Ben drove away from the ranch on his way to Denver, to become -one of the legislators of the state, Philip Davison spoke again to -Justin. - -"There goes Ben, a member of the legislature! He's not so very much -older than you, Justin; yet see what he has accomplished, young as he -is." - -"Yes, I see!" said Justin, quietly. - - - - -BOOK TWO--THE BATTLE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -COWARDICE AND HEROISM - - -Though Justin Wingate was no longer connected with the Davison ranch -he was not the less concerned when he beheld the sudden flare of flame -near the head of the caon and the cloud of smoke which now concealed -it. A fire starting there in the tall grass and sedge might destroy -much of the Davison range, and would endanger the unharvested crops -and the homes of the valley farmers. Forest fires were ravaging the -mountains, and for days the air had been filled with a haze of smoke -through which the sun shone like a ball of copper. The drought of late -summer had made mountain and mesa a tinder box. Hence Justin turned -from the trail and rode rapidly toward the fire. - -There had been many changes in Paradise Valley; but except that it had -grown more bitter with the passage of time, there had been none in the -attitude of the farmers and cattlemen toward each other. William -Sanders was still vindictively hostile to the people of the ranch, and -they disliked him with equal intensity of feeling. As for Justin, he -had developed rather than changed. He was stronger mentally and -physically, better poised, more self-reliant and resourceful. He had -come to maturity. - -He was on his way to Borden's ranch, with some medicines for one of -Clayton's patients there. The distance was long, and he had a pair of -blankets and a slicker tied together in a roll behind his saddle. Lucy -Davison was in the town, making a call on an acquaintance, and he was -journeying by the valley trail, hoping to meet her, or see her, as he -passed that way. But thoughts of Lucy fled when he saw that fire. As -he rode toward it and passed through the strong gate into the fenced -land, he wondered uneasily if any plum gatherers were in the sand-plum -thickets by the caon. - -Justin had not proceeded far when he heard a pounding of hoofs, and -looking back he beheld Steve Harkness riding toward him at top speed. -He drew rein to let Harkness approach. - -"Seen Pearl and Helen anywhere?" Harkness bellowed at him. - -Helen was the child of Steve and Pearl Harkness, and was now nearly -two years old. - -"No," said Justin, thinking of the plum bushes. "Are they out this -way?" - -"I dunno where they air; but they said at the house Pearl come this -way with Helen. That was more'n an hour ago. They was on horseback, -she carryin' Helen in front of her; and she had a tin bucket. So she -must have been goin' after plums. That fire made me worried about -'em." - -He rode on toward the plum bushes, and Justin followed him, through -the smoke that now filled the air and obscured the sun. Harkness's -horse was the speedier, and he disappeared quickly. As he vanished, -Ben Davison dashed out of the smoke and rode across the mesa. In the -roar and crackle of the fire Justin heard Harkness shout at Ben, but -he could not distinguish the words. Justin called to Ben, repeating -what he believed had been Harkness's question, asking if he had seen -Pearl and Helen; but Ben did not hear him, or did not wish to answer. -He rode right on, as if frightened. And indeed that fire, which -pursued him even as he fled, was not a thing to be regarded lightly. -Yet Justin wondered at Ben's action, his wonder changing to -bewilderment when he saw that a woman's saddle was on the horse Ben -rode. - -A horrible suspicion was forced upon him. He knew that Ben had -deteriorated; had become little better than a loafer about the stores -of the little town, consorting with Clem Arkwright and kindred -spirits. Arkwright had also changed for the worse. He had lost his -position as justice-of-the-peace, and was now often seedy and much -given to drinking. He was said to be an inveterate gambler, gaining an -uncertain livelihood by the gambler's arts. Ben Davison was never -seedy. Whether he obtained his money from Davison or secured it in -other ways Justin did not know, but Ben was always well dressed and -had an air of prosperity. - -Ben was again the candidate of the ranch interests for the -legislature. Lemuel Fogg, also representing the ranch interests, had -secured for himself a nomination to the state senate; for which -purpose he had become temporarily a resident of the town of Cliveden, -some miles away, where he had established a branch of his Denver -store. - -Justin's desire for justice made him put aside the conclusion almost -inevitably forced upon him by that sight of Ben Davison riding wildly -away from the fire in a woman's saddle. - -Following Harkness toward the plum thickets, where the roar of the -fire was loudest, he heard a woman's scream. It was off at one side, -away from the fire. Justin pulled his horse about and galloped toward -the fire through the pall of smoke. In a few moments he beheld the -plump form of Pearl Harkness. Helen was not with her. Seeing Justin, -she ran toward him, screaming frantically. - -"Helen! Helen!" - -Justin stopped his horse. - -"What is it? Where is she?" - -"Oh, I don't know, I don't know! I've lost her! She was right here a -while ago. The fire started, and I left her to get the horse; but the -horse was gone, and when I tried to find her I couldn't, the smoke was -so thick. I must have got turned round." She started on again, wildly. -"Helen! Helen!" - -"Can you stay here just a minute? I'll find her, and I'll bring her to -you. Stay right here. The fire can't get here for at least ten -minutes. Stay right here." - -He feared to leave her, yet felt that he must if he hoped to save the -child. Pearl Harkness seemed not to hear him. Calling the name of her -child she ran on, in an agony of apprehension, choking and gasping. -Lifted high above her by his horse, Justin found breathing difficult. -His mind was in a puzzled whirl, when he heard the fog-horn bellow of -Harkness's heavy voice. Pearl heard it also, and ran toward Harkness -with hysterical cries. Justin rode after her. Harkness appeared out of -the smoke like a spectre, his horse at a dead run. When he saw Pearl -he drew rein and jumped to the ground. - -"Helen! Helen!" she screamed at him, stretching out her hands. - -Then, before either Harkness or Justin could reach her, she pitched -forward, overcome by excitement and the thick smoke. Harkness lifted -her in his strong arms, clinging to his bridle rein as he did so. The -bronchos were snorting and uneasy. - -"I've got to git her out of here," said Harkness, with tender -solicitude. "Where's Helen?" - -"She must be right here somewhere; over that way, your wife said. I'll -find her." - -Harkness glared at the smoke. - -"Yes, find her, and find her quick! That fire will be right on top of -this place in another minute." - -He swung Pearl toward the saddle. Justin assisted him to hoist the -heavy woman to the back of the horse, and held her there while he -mounted. Harkness took the limp form in his arms. - -"We ain't got any time to lose!" he gasped. "Find Helen! For God's -sake, save Helen! It will kill Pearl, and me too, if you don't. The -fire is right here. For God's sake, save her; I know you'll do it if -anybody can." - -Justin was in the saddle. - -"Save your wife!" he cried. "Save your wife! I'll find Helen! I'll -find her!" - -"You've got to find her! Don't stop till you find her! I reckon I'd -better help you look for her." - -He could not abandon Helen; and holding his wife in his arms he rode -toward the fire. - -"Save your wife!" Justin shouted to him. - -He was already moving off, forcing the broncho toward the point where -the smoke lay heaviest. Again he shouted to Harkness, begging him to -save his wife. Then a moving wall of smoke swept between them. - -"Helen! Helen!" Justin began to call, circling swiftly about the spot -where Pearl Harkness believed she had left her child. - -The heat and smoke were becoming unbearable. - -"I must find her!" was his thought, as he recalled Pearl's hysterical -screams and the anguished face of Steve Harkness. - -Then, as if in a fire-framed picture, he saw her, well up toward the -head of the caon, whither she had fled in a panic of fright. The -strong upward pull of the heated air, lifting the smoke for an -instant, revealed her, clad in her short dress of striped calico, her -yellow head bare. - -As the flames flared thus on high, their angry red blending and -tangling with the thick black smoke on the rim of the caon, Justin's -broncho became almost unmanageable. He struck it now, pounding his -fist against its body, kicking it mercilessly, and jerking like a -madman at the sharp bit. Fighting with the scared broncho, he drove it -toward the child. - -She heard him call to her; and seeing him, she began to run toward -him. She stumbled and fell, and rose crying. Her small face was -smeared with soot and tears, with charred plum leaves and with sand. -All about her, as the flames and the smoke lifted and fell under the -force of the wind, flakes of soot, plum leaves, and burning grass, -floated and flew. It was a wonder to Justin that her striped dress was -not already ablaze. In a few moments he was at her side. - -"I want my mamma!" she wailed, as he leaped down by her. "Where is my -mamma?" - -She pushed back the tangle of yellow hair that the wind tumbled into -her face, and coughed violently. Her chubby hands were stained with -tears and soot. She doubled one of them and gouged it into her eyes. - -"I want my mamma!" - -"I will take you to her," Justin promised, as he tore the blankets and -slicker from behind the saddle. - -One of the blankets he wrapped about her; the other he threw over his -shoulders and secured in place with a pin. The slicker he cast away, -fearing its coating of oil would make it inflammable. Having done -this, he clambered into the saddle, with the child in his arms. - -But the fire had been as busy. A long red prong thrown in the -direction of the ranch buildings had widened and was drawing back -toward the caon. It lapped across the open grassy space toward which -he rode before he could gallop a dozen rods, thus hemming them in. - -As Justin dashed furiously at this wall of flame, he drew the hood of -the blanket well over his head; and while still holding the child -closely wrapped, and clinging to the rein, he sought protection for -his hands in the folds of the blanket. There was no protection for the -horse. Yet he drove it to the plunge, which it took with blind and -maddened energy. - -The fire flashed about him and roared like a furnace. The flesh of his -hands and face cried out in pain and seemed to crisp under the lash of -that whip of flame. Giddy and reeling, he set his teeth hard and -gouged his booted heels furiously into the broncho's flanks. The -blanket seemed to be burning about his head. - -For a few brief moments after that he was but half conscious; then he -felt the broncho fall under him, and was pitched from the saddle. He -staggered to his feet, still holding the child. His blanket had been -torn aside by the fall; and he saw that he had broken through the -cordon of flame, and that the fire was behind him. The broncho lay -quivering where it had dropped, having run to the last gasp. He could -not have recognized it. Its hair was burnt off, and blood gushed from -its nostrils. - -Helen seemed to be uninjured, though she cried lustily. Still resolved -to save her from the fire, Justin began to stagger with her across the -unburned grass. As he did so he heard a shout, followed by galloping -hoofs. He saw the horsemen dimly as they rode toward him, and he ran -in their direction. As he thus ran on he fell. - -When he came to himself he was on a horse in front of some one who -clasped him firmly about the body. Horses' feet were rustling noisily -over the grass. The sky was black with smoke; its taste was in his -mouth, it cut his lungs and pinched his quivering nostrils. His face -and eyes; his hands, his whole body, throbbed with the smarting pain -of fire. - -"You're still all right, air ye?" - -It was the voice of Dicky Carroll, one of the cowboys. - -It was Dicky's arms that held him, and he was on Dicky's horse. He -drew himself up, looked about, and saw Steve Harkness galloping at -Dicky's side with Helen in his arms. - -"He's got to be made all right if he ain't," he heard Harkness shout. -"He's too gamy to be let die!" - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE HARVEST OF THE FIRE - - -The fire ravaged a large part of the mesa range. In the valley it did -small damage, for the farmers checked it there by flooding the canals -and laterals with the water they had stored for the fall irrigation. -Some of their hay land was swept over, and a few stacks of alfalfa -were destroyed, but no house was burned. One of the destroyed stacks -belonged to William Sanders. And it did not mitigate his hostility to -the people of the Davison ranch to know that the fire had been started -by Ben Davison. - -Ben was voluble with excuses and explanations. He stated that he had -gone to the plum bushes by the rim of the caon. There, tossing away a -smoked-out cigarette, it had fallen into some dry grass, which at once -leaped into flame. He had tried to stamp out the fire, and failed. -Startled by the rapidity with which it spread, and by the increasing -heat and smoke, he had fled. As he did so he came on a loose horse, -bearing a woman's saddle. No one was near it, or to be seen, and he -supposed very naturally that the rider had let the horse get away. At -any rate, it offered him a chance to escape from the fire, which he -believed to be ringing him in, and he accepted it. He did not hear -Harkness shout at him, he said, nor Justin. Riding toward the ranch -house, he had encountered the cowboys who were hastening to the fire, -and had turned back with them, thus meeting Steve Harkness, who was -holding his wife in front of him and had ridden out of the smoke. And -he had continued with the cowboys, and was with them when Justin -appeared with Helen. - -Dicky Carroll's version, poured into the ears of Justin Wingate as he -lay convalescing from the effects of his burns, held some peppery -additions: - -"Gee! wasn't Harkness wild; wasn't he hot? He was hotter than the fire -he had run from. He was simply crazy. He didn't say anything to Ben -when we first met him, fer there wasn't time right at that minute. But -he come on him at the ranch house. That was after you was carried in, -and while Doc Clayton was fingerin' you over to see if you was all -there. Ben was standin' by the door; and Harkness stepped up to him, -his face as white as a sheet, where it wasn't all smoked up; and he -says to him, jest like this: - -"'Damn you fer a sneakin' coward! You took my wife's horse, and left -her and Helen in that hell of fire to be roasted to death!' And then -he hit him square on the mouth and knocked him up ag'inst the side of -the house. - -"After that he never said a word to Ben, but as soon as the Old Man -come he told him what he'd done, and handed in his resignation as -ranch foreman. The Old Man was as hot as Harkness, the fellers say -that saw it; fer a minute he looked as swelled up and porkupiny as a -horned toad. Then he calmed down. 'I'll see Ben,' he says, jest like, -that. And he did see Ben; and of all the roastin's, that feller got -it; things couldn't have been much warmer fer him if he'd let the -horse go and stayed in the fire. And Harkness is still foreman. He's -too good a man, you see, fer Davison to lose. But there's one thing to -be said fer Ben, which I reckon he don't want to say fer hisself. He -was drinkin' that day, up by the caon. Nobody but a drunk man or a -fool would have throwed that burnin' cigarette butt into grass as dry -as that. Ben was too drunk to realize the danger, and I reckon he was -too drunk to know or care whose horse he took. But he was middlin' -sober, I tell you, when we met him. The scare did that. He was scared -good. And I will say fer him that he turned right round, though he'd -been ridin' like the devil was after him, and went back with us, and -afterward he done his part in puttin' out the fire." - -Lucy Davison must have heard this story from Pearl Harkness; and it -was possible, as Justin knew, that she had seen Harkness strike Ben. -Yet she said nothing to Justin on the subject, but left him to his own -conclusions. - -In one way, the aftermath of that unpleasant experience was not -unpleasant to Justin. Much of the time he had for a nurse no less a -person than Lucy Davison herself. Whether engaged in the actual work -of nursing him or otherwise, she made constant and solicitous -inquiries which strengthened and soothed him more than anything within -the range of Clayton's skill. Her presence would have more than -counter-balanced the suffering but for one thing. He knew that his -appearance was worse than grotesque. Even a comely youth loses all -comeliness, with his eyelashes and eyebrows gone, and his face -disfigured by burns and bandages. - -Somewhat reluctantly Justin was at length obliged to confess himself -so nearly well that he could go home with Clayton. Thanks to the -latter's skill he had escaped permanent disfigurement. Nevertheless, -his injuries confined him for some time to the house, and to short -walks and rides near it. - -Lucy made him many visits, and brought him the news and gossip of the -valley. She had "finished" at Mrs. Lassell's school, so was not to go -East again, and that was a pleasant thought to both. Philip Davison -was deep in his plans for Ben's advancement, and Fogg was working -earnestly to secure his own election. The thing that sorely troubled -both Davison and Fogg now, as it also troubled Ben, was the story -which was spreading, that Ben had cut the dam the night of the storm. - -"I hope no one will think I told that!" thought Justin. - -Yet the repositories of that secret, he was sure, were Lucy, Fogg and -himself. - -Justin inquired concerning the political action of the farmers. -Apparently, they had not desired to turn to him again; they had chosen -a candidate, and were working for Ben's defeat. - -When Fogg called at Clayton's, Justin, in a private conversation with -him, declared with heat that he had remained silent about the dam, -even though that silence had distressed his conscience. Fogg, tricky -himself, hence ready to impute trickery to others, might not have -believed Justin, if it had not come out soon that Ben had given the -story wings himself, as he boasted one night, while he sat gambling -and drinking with Clem Arkwright and some cronies in the town. Ben -denied this strenuously to his father. But after that, the suspicions -of Lemuel Fogg against Justin were blown to the wind. - -There was some wild talk among the farmers of prosecuting Ben, which -ended in talk, for there was a lack of first-hand proof. But to the -work of defeating him at the polls they had set themselves with might -and main. - -Then, as suddenly as the fire itself, a surprising change came in the -political situation. From the first, as now appeared, the campaign -against Ben had been engineered craftily by crafty men. At the last -moment, the name of the opposition candidate was taken down, and -another name hoisted in its stead--the name of Justin Wingate, used -without his knowledge. Cowboys made hurried night rides, moving with -secrecy. Ben's conduct at the time of the fire had laid up for him in -their hearts a store of smothered rage and contempt, which now found -expression. Everywhere the cowboys rallied to the support of Justin -Wingate--and he was elected. - -Because he was confined so closely to the house and its vicinity, but -more because the sudden movement to elect him was sedulously concealed -both from him and from Clayton, Justin's election came to him as a -stunning surprise. His astonishment was mingled with pain and anxiety. -The hopes of the Davisons were in the dust. He knew that Ben must be -humiliated beyond measure, and he feared that Davison would resent it -as a personal insult to his son and an act of treachery. And what -would Lucy think? That was, to Justin, the most important of all. - -Clayton brought him the news early on the morning after the election. -Justin, who had been walking about in the yard enjoying the bright -autumn sunshine, dropped to a seat on the doorsteps, startled, weak -and unnerved. Clayton began to make the thing clear to him. - -"After that affair, the cowboys couldn't stand Ben Davison, and the -story that he cut the dam killed him with a good many of the town -people, as well as the farmers. When your name was mentioned, the -suggestion caught as quickly as that fire Ben started. At Borden's -ranch, at Wilson's, at Lindborg's, and all over the county, where the -story of the fire had gone, the thing was taken up by the cowboys; and -it was all done so quickly and quietly that neither Davison nor Ben, -nor even Fogg, knew a thing of it, until it was too late. I'm as -surprised as you are; I knew of the talk against Ben, but I didn't -dream of this." - -Lemuel Fogg, shrewd and astute, hurried to Davison's, as soon as he -heard the astounding news. Davison was in a white rage. But for Fogg's -timely intervention he would have discharged all of his cowboys at -once, together with Steve Harkness. They were angry, and they stood -ready to go. - -"Don't do it!" Fogg begged. "We can't fight all of the cowboys of the -county, and they all went against Ben. The thing to do is to make -Justin see that the cowboys--and in that sense the ranch -interests--elected him. Though the cowboys united with the farmers -this time, they are not naturally with them; Justin knows that. We -mustn't let him go to Denver feeling that he owes his election to the -farmers. He is a cowboy, and if we work him right we can hold him to -our side." - -"I can't believe yet but that Justin knew all about it," said Davison, -angrily. - -"I don't think he did; but whether he did or didn't, he's elected." - -"He may not accept the place; he might give way, if pressure is -brought to bear on him?" - -"Don't you believe that for even a minute," said Fogg. "I know Justin. -He's not a fool, and he'd be a fool if he did that. He will go to -Denver and sit in that legislature, and we want him to go as our -friend, not our enemy. Don't stir up the cowboys, don't make trouble -with them; just give me a free hand--I think I can work this thing." - -Lemuel Fogg set about the work at once. He suggested to certain men -that it would be a good idea for the friends of the ranch interests to -meet publicly at Clayton's that evening and show Justin that they -regarded him as their friend, and not their enemy; and, having done -that, he walked over to Clayton's to see Justin himself, and -congratulate him. Some of the farmers, he learned, had already visited -Clayton's for that purpose; and he felt that for the ranchmen to -permit the "farming jays" to get ahead of them in that way was a -tactical mistake. - -So Fogg came into Clayton's little study, where he had been so many -times, and sat in the big chair which had so often nursed his rotund -body. His round freckled face oozed amiability, and his big laugh was -cheery and infectious, as he congratulated Justin. - -"You ought to have been nominated regularly in the first place, -instead of Ben," he asserted. "It was a mistake to put Ben up, after -that trouble about the fire. The cowboys wouldn't have him. They've -elected you, and they're roaring with joy. I suppose Ben has gone into -hiding, for I haven't seen him anywhere this morning." - -He laughed, as if this were a joke. - -"Ben's defeat and your election surprised me, of course," he admitted, -"but as soon as I had time to think it over I felt there wasn't -anything to be sorry about, for you'll make a good deal better -representative. You're better educated all round than Ben is, and -you've got the confidence of the people, which as this vote shows he -hasn't." - -Justin liked Fogg, in spite of the known defects of his character. He -had believed that Fogg would be instantly alienated; yet here he was, -as friendly and as jovial as ever, not disturbed in the least, -apparently, by the strange turn of events. - -"It's a thing that doesn't come every day to a young man that hasn't -gone gunning for it, and it's up to you to make the most of it," Fogg -continued. "This may be the stepping-stone that will lead you into the -governor's chair some day. You can't tell, you know. Make as many -friends as you can, and as few enemies as you can. Ben made enemies, -without making friends, and you see where he is. It's a good lesson to -any young man. I'm glad I'm to be in the legislature with you; in the -senate, of course; but I'll be right there, where I can see you every -day; and if I can help you in any way, by advice or otherwise, why, -I'm yours truly, to command to the limit." - -"The position is what I should have sought, if I could have had the -choosing," said Justin, "yet I feel troubled about it, coming to me as -it did." - -"You wouldn't think of refusing to accept it, now that it's yours?" - -"No, I shouldn't want to do that, and it wouldn't be right to the men -who voted for me." - -"I felt sure you wouldn't," Fogg admitted significantly, shifting -comfortably in his big chair. - -"I'm too bewildered to know what to say, or what to think; I only know -that it's a great surprise, and that I'm troubled as to how it will be -regarded by the Davisons." - -"Well, of course you must expect them to be a little sore over it, as -it comes so close home to them. But Davison is a pretty square sort of -man, as I've found, and he'll look at it in the right light, unless -you give him occasion to do otherwise. Ben will be bitter, I've no -doubt; but there's no help for that, and if I were you I shouldn't let -it trouble me. He'll get over it after awhile. If his head is level -he'll know that he went up against a cyclone for which you were not -responsible and he'll keep still." - -Fogg's attitude eased Clayton's anxiety. The turbulent conflict he -foresaw seemed about to be avoided. - -"I've spoken to some of my friends," Fogg went on, "and there will be -a crowd up here to-night. I reckon you'd better rub up a little -something in the way of a speech, Justin. And if you happen to hear a -brass band filling the air with march music, don't get scared and bolt -like a stampeding broncho, for that will be the new band they've -organized in town coming up to serenade you. You're a public character -now, and you've got to stand such things." - -Fogg left Clayton's with growing confidence. He believed that Justin -would be pliable, if properly manipulated. - -"If I can only jolly him along here I can manage him when we get to -Denver," was his thought. - -Though Justin was strong enough now to take short rides about the -valley, he did not visit the Davison ranch that day. Lucy was -temporarily absent from home, he was glad to know. So he shut himself -up at Clayton's and tried to take stock of the situation. His thoughts -were chaotic. The thing he would have chosen had come to him, but in a -manner so strange that he could hardly be sure it was desirable. As he -did not know what he ought to say to the people who would gather there -that evening, he did not try to put together the few thoughts in the -way of a speech which Fogg had suggested. - -For Paradise Valley that was a great gathering. At nightfall the new -band came down from the town, braying its loudest. Horsemen, and men -on foot and in carriages, seemed to spring out of the ground. They -overflowed the little house, for Clayton's hospitality urged them to -make themselves at home anywhere, and they filled the yard, yelling -lustily. Fogg set up some gasolene torches, and came out of the house, -accompanying Justin. - -The noise, the cries for him to appear, the music of the band, the -leaping call of aroused ambition, tingled Justin's blood. He felt his -soul swell, when he heard that roar. It was a feeling wholly new and -he could not define it, but it caused him to lift his head and step -with sure precision as he passed through the doorway with Fogg to the -little piazza in front of the house. - -Before him some farmers, in whose midst he saw Sloan Jasper, were -bellowing their delight. Farther out he saw Steve Harkness, by the -light of the torch which flared red in his face. At Harkness's side -was Dicky Carroll; and both were yelling with wide-open mouths, and -swinging their big hats, as they sat on their horses. Justin knew that -he trembled, but it was not because he distrusted himself, or feared -to face these people. - -As he came out upon the piazza, Fogg, the diplomat, took him -affectionately by both hands, his fat face beaming with simulated joy, -as he introduced to these people the newly-elected--their -newly-elected--representative. Fogg's remarks took the form of a wordy -panegyric, whose chief note was that, as Justin had been elected by -what seemed to be a spontaneous uprising of the whole people, he would -go to Denver as the representative of the whole people, and not of any -party or faction. - -Called on for a speech, Justin spoke but a few words. He was sensible, -he said, that a very high honor had been conferred on him, and -conferred most unexpectedly. For it he thanked his friends and all who -voted for him. He had not sought the place, and in the manner in which -it had come to him there were some painful things, on which it was not -necessary for him to dwell; but now that he was elected, he would try -to serve his constituency to the best of his ability and do what was -right. The position having come to him wholly unsought, he felt that -he stood pledged to nothing except honesty and the good of the state -and the county. - -Dicky Carroll's small clean-shaven face and beady eyes shone with -supreme satisfaction. Dicky was a firm admirer of Justin, and he was -delighted to be able to swing his hat and yell for a cowboy, one of -his own kind as he thought, who had been elected to the legislature -largely by cowboy votes. He was swinging his hat and yelling even -before Justin concluded; and the speech, brief as it was, had been -punctuated with cheers. - -Fogg thanked the people for their kindness, and with fat freckled hand -patted Justin on the shoulder much as he would have patted a fine -young horse he was grooming for the races. Clayton looked on with his -quiet smile, pleased to have Justin so praised and cheered, yet -anxious. - -Then the people and the brass band went away. Only Harkness and Dicky -Carroll stayed, for a few words with the "cowboy" whom they had helped -to elect. They did not intend that Fogg should have Justin all to -himself. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -LEES OF THE WINE - - -The next morning Justin rode over to the ranch house to see Lucy. He -desired to know how she felt about his sudden elevation, by which Ben -had been thrust down. Near the crossing, where the bare boughs of the -cottonwoods were tossing in the autumn wind, he encountered Philip -Davison. The ranchman drew rein. Justin had a sense of uneasiness, as -he lifted his hat respectfully to his former employer. - -"Justin," Davison spoke sharply, "we want to know how you stand. I -heard from that meeting last night, and from what you said there -nobody can tell. Fogg says you're all right, but I'd like to hear you -say so." - -Davison disliked circumlocution, being as direct in his methods as -Justin himself. He had yielded reluctantly to the restraining hand of -Fogg. Now, meeting Justin thus, he formulated his doubt and his -question. His florid face had taken on added color and his blue eyes -began to flash. Except for that sudden fire he looked tired, and older -than Justin had ever seen him. - -"Speak up, speak up!" he commanded testily, as Justin hesitated. "For -myself I want to know just what to expect. Are you with us, or against -us? You can't be both." - -Justin did not want to speak up, for he did not want to break with -Philip Davison. He still held for him much of the strong admiration he -had cherished in his youth. - -"Having been elected without my knowledge or wish, I shall go to -Denver untrammeled," he said, still hesitating. "How I shall vote will -depend upon the questions that come up for settlement." - -"That's a fool's answer," Davison declared. "Are you against the -range, or are you for it? Will you support the interests of the -cattlemen, or the interests of the farmers?" - -His words flushed his face still more and made his eyes very bright. -There were fleshy pads under those blue eyes, and the cheeks below the -pads looked flabby. Justin thought of Ben. In some respects the father -and the son were alike. Yet Ben was smaller, had a weak face, and -little of the towering bulk of his father, who was as tall as Justin -himself. And thoughts of Ben, humiliated by defeat, of Lucy, together -with the old regard, made him oblivious to the harsh words and harsher -tones. Yet evasion was not possible. - -"I don't think I ought to be called on to declare myself before I know -just what the issues are and in what shape they will be presented," he -urged. "But you know my sentiments, Mr. Davison. You know I quit the -ranch not because I did not wish to work for you, but simply because -I----" - -"Because you were a fool; because the work of branding a bawling calf -made you sick at the stomach; because you couldn't stand it to see a -starving cow wandering about in a blizzard with nothing to eat! You -think--" - -"Mr. Davison--" - -"You think the cattle business is cruel and brutal, and--" - -"I think cattle raising as it is conducted on the open range is cruel. -I can't help that." - -"And you think the farmers are the only people! You think the -cattlemen are--" - -"I sympathize with the farmers. Perhaps that is because they are poor -men and need sympathy." - -"You will vote with them!" Davison lifted his voice and shook his -finger in Justin's face, leaning forward in the saddle. "After all -I've done for you, Justin! There is a contemptible conspiracy on foot -in this state to ruin the cattle business, and it has your sympathy. I -have always been your friend, and Fogg is your friend; yet you'd vote -us into poverty to-morrow, just on account of Clayton's idiotic -notions. I'm done with you. You needn't ride on over to the house, for -I don't want you there. There is no one there who does want you. I -hope you understand that. A man who is a man doesn't go where he isn't -wanted. I wash my hands of you!" - -Having lost his temper, Philip Davison began to rave. - -"Yet you owe your election to ranch influences," he shouted. "You -gained your place through the defection of the cowboys from Ben. They -persisted in misunderstanding what he did at the time of the fire, and -they played the sneak, riding over the country by night and banding -themselves together to put him down. If you lent yourself to that, -it--" - -"I did not lend myself to it, Mr. Davison," Justin protested, -earnestly. "I did not know anything about it." - -"Yet you profit by it, you profit by it; and the receiver of stolen -goods is as bad as the thief." - -Fogg had beheld this collocution from the ranch house, and now he -galloped up, his fat body swaying heavily in his creaking saddle. -Though perturbed, his round fat face beamed like a kindly sunset. - -"How are you, Justin; how are you?" he cried. "Hope that racket at -Clayton's didn't rob you of your sleep last night. It was a successful -meeting, and I'm glad that it was, having had something to do with -getting it up." He mopped his hot forehead with his handkerchief. -"Davison, a word with you! The Deep River Company write that they want -to buy some of our cattle." - -Fogg's hand was again on the wheel. Justin was glad to ride on, for -Davison's savage assault had left him breathless. He was hurt, but -tried hard not to be angry. He was still determined to see Lucy, even -though Davison's words practically forbade him the house. Ben was -absent so much from the ranch now that Justin hardly expected to meet -him; yet he did meet him, in front of the ranch house door. Ben had -long since discarded cowboy clothing, and he had lost much of the -cowboy tan, his face being now white and unhealthy-looking, as if -bleached by late hours and artificial lights. It took on a surly look, -when he saw Justin. - -"I shouldn't think you'd care to come over here now," he said, curtly. -"If it's pleasant for you, it isn't pleasant for me." - -"I hope we can be friends," Justin urged. "I'm sure I want to be -yours." - -He had not recovered his equanimity, and his face was flushed. - -"Well, I don't want to be yours! You may deny it if you want to, but -you played me a mean, dirty trick. You probably had it in mind, when -you put up that melodramatic exhibition at the fire." - -Justin found great difficulty in keeping his temper. Hot words burned -on his trembling lips. - -"I won't talk with you, Ben," he declared, hoarsely. "Is Lucy in? I -should like to see her." - -"Find out if she's in," Ben snapped, and turned toward the corrals. - -Lucy met Justin at the door. Though she smiled in welcome, he could -see that she was troubled. - -"Don't mind what Ben says," she urged, as she took Justin's hat and -then led the way to the sitting room. - -"He was crusty," said Justin, "but I can't blame him." - -Having gained the sitting room she turned to Justin, admiration in her -troubled eyes. - -"Justin, I ought to be proud of you, and I am--I can't help being--but -this is, in a way, very unfortunate and distressing. Ben wasn't worthy -of that place, as I know only too well, and as you know; but he is so -very bitter over his defeat, and Uncle Philip is the same. Ben has -been in a stubborn rage ever since the election, and has said some -sharp things to me about it--as if I could help it, or had anything to -do with it!" - -"I'm sorry." He took a chair. "I suppose I've lost Mr. Davison's -good-will entirely. When I met him a few minutes ago he forbade me the -house. But I wanted to see you, and came on." - -"I suppose you will accept the position?" - -"Can I do otherwise?" - -"I shouldn't want you to refuse it. The people chose you, over Ben, -and even though it was unexpected, I suppose you ought to serve. Ben -is alone responsible for his defeat. Uncle Philip will not believe the -things which we know to be true, and he thinks Ben ought to have been -elected. Yet I do hope," she looked at Justin earnestly, "that you -will not feel that you must vote against the cattlemen in everything, -in the legislature?" - -"Why do you say that?" - -"Uncle Philip declares that you mean to." - -"It will depend, I fancy, upon the general action of the -legislature--upon the measures and bills that may be introduced, and -the candidates who are presented for senator. I don't expect to take -any active part against the ranchmen." - -"The farmers expect you to." - -"I'm opposed to the ranchmen on some points. You know how I feel; and -of course I shall have to be guided by what I think is right. I don't -see how I can do anything else." - -"Uncle Philip says certain bills will come up, aimed at the free -range; and he declares that if the free range is taken away or -curtailed he will have to go out of business. He can't fence against -everybody." - -"On the other hand, what about the farmers?" - -"There aren't so very many of them, and their holdings are small. They -might fence their land. The ranchmen were here first. You'll remember -that?" - -"I'm not likely to forget it." He settled back easily in his chair. -"That's been dinned in my ears a good deal, already." - -"It's a serious matter," she urged. "My sympathies are with the -ranchmen; because I'm a ranch girl, I suppose, and have always lived -on a ranch." - -"And it's because I've seen so much of ranching that my sympathies are -not with the ranchmen, aside from Mr. Davison himself. I should -dislike to do anything to injure him, or displease him. But the -ranching business, as it is now carried on, is, I fancy, the thing -around which the fight in Denver will rage, if there is any fight. You -know yourself, Lucy, that in a certain sense the ranchmen are -lawbreakers. The trouble is, Mr. Davison doesn't stand alone. It is -not any one ranchman, but the system." - -"That's why I'm disturbed by the situation." - -"A long time ago," he said, seeming to change the subject, "you asked -me to go to your uncle and put to him a certain momentous question. -His answer was virtually a command that I should do something and -become something. This opportunity has come, and it would be a -weakness not to make the most of it. I shall trust that I won't have -to do anything to turn your uncle against me completely; but," he -regarded her earnestly, "I hope in any event nothing can ever come -between you and me." - -He arose and stood beside her. - -"Justin," she said, looking up at him, "that does not need an answer; -but I'm going to ask you not to be stubborn when you go to Denver, -that is all. You do get unreasonably angry, sometimes, just like Uncle -Philip; and when you do, you become stubborn. You don't mind if I say -this? If the struggle we fear comes, will you promise me not to permit -yourself to get angry and stubborn about it? There will be many things -said, I've no doubt, that will try you. But just think of me here, a -ranch girl, and your best friends ranch people; the cowboys, who -regard you so highly, didn't vote for you because they were opposed to -the ranchmen, but simply because they didn't like Ben. You'll remember -these things, won't you?" - -He drew her to him. - -"Lucy," he said, as he put his arm about her and kissed her, "I shall -be thinking of you all the time. I was almost afraid to come over here -to-day, but I see I had nothing to fear." - -"And do you know why?" - -"Because you love me even as I love you." - -"Then you won't forget--you won't forget--that I am a ranch girl, and -that my interests, and yours too if you but knew it, are ranch -interests!" - -"I will not forget," he promised. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -IN THE WHIRLPOOL - - -The conflicting interests had so shaped themselves before Justin went -to Denver that he knew it would be impossible for him to vote on -certain questions with the representatives of the ranchmen. He reached -this decision, after many long talks with Doctor Clayton, in the quiet -of the doctor's study. Yet he maintained a silence, trying to himself, -which Clayton deemed discreet; and he went to Denver with many -misgivings. - -He had no sooner set foot in the hotel when Fogg's smiling face made -its appearance. - -"Good; you're here!" Fogg cried. "Now I'll see that you have a -first-class room. These hotel people will poke you off into any old -corner, if you don't watch them." - -He seized Justin's valise, but relinquished it to the colored boy who -came forward to take it, and walked with Justin to the clerk's desk, -where he made known with confidential words and gestures that his -friend, Justin Wingate, the representative from Flatrock, was to have -a good room, in a good location. And he went up with Justin to the -room, to make sure that he had not been swindled by the wicked hotel -men. - -"This will be all right," he declared, joyously. "My room is on the -same floor. You must come in and look at it." - -Justin went in, and they talked awhile. Fogg did not ask him any -questions, but seemed to assume that there could be no divergence of -opinion between them on any vital point; they were old friends, and -they understood each other! - -On the mantel was a copy of that photograph of Justin and Mary Jasper, -taken on the occasion of Fogg's first visit to Paradise Valley. Fogg -had put it there, to be seen, that it might further cement the ties -that he hoped would bind Justin to him. It would bring back memories -of pleasant days, he believed. It brought back, instead, memories of -Peter Wingate and Curtis Clayton. When that picture was taken, the -ranchmen had not invaded Paradise Valley. Sloan Jasper was tilling his -little fields by the river undisturbed by the Davison cattle. And -Jasper had been one of Wingate's staunchest friends and admirers! - -"You'll find things a bit new here, of course," said Fogg, as he -returned with Justin to the latter's room; "but I know Denver like a -book, and I'll be glad to help you in any way I can." - -Yet even Lemuel Fogg, observing that Justin did not say much, had an -uneasy sense of insecurity. - -"These quiet men do a lot of thinking," was his troubled conclusion, -"and they're likely to be hard to manage, when they get crooked -notions in their heads. I'll have to keep my eyes on him, and I'll get -some other fellows to help me. We've got to swing his vote; we've -simply got to do it!" - -To Justin's inexperienced eyes Denver was in a condition of political -chaos. He was not accustomed to crowds, and at first they annoyed and -bewildered him. Caucuses were apparently being held in every corner. -Ranching interests, mining interests, agricultural interests, each -seemed to have a host of champions. But the thing that excited every -one, whether cattlemen, farmer, or miner, was the coming election of a -United States senator. - -Early on the day after his arrival, he found himself drawn into a -caucus held in the interests of the cattlemen. Fogg piloted him into -it adroitly, wishing to commit him irrevocably to that side. Justin -sat down and looked about, not knowing what was to be done. Men came -to him with friendly words, and were introduced by Fogg. A chairman -was appointed, and the meeting began, with speeches. Their drift soon -filled Justin with uneasiness. Having listened awhile, he arose -nervously in his place. He did not wish to be misunderstood, or put in -a doubtful position. - -As he stood up, thoughts of Lucy Davison came to trouble him; and, -knowing that every eye was trained on him, he became somewhat -disconcerted. Fogg, watching him closely, saw his face flush to a deep -red. Yet even Fogg, consumed by anxious expectancy, did not fail to -note the commanding flash of the blue eyes and the stiffening of the -lithe, erect form of this young man from the remote ranges of -Paradise, as he began to speak. There was nothing rural or awkward in -his manner. His bare shapely head with its masses of dark hair, his -clear-cut profile, and his straight supple form clad in a neat -business suit of dark gray, spoke of anything but verdant -inexperience. - -Though he began in hesitation, having begun he did not falter, and he -did not palter; but expressed himself simply, as an honest man -expressing honest opinions without thought of subterfuge. He did not -go into details, and he did not explain, further than to declare that -he had not sought an election; but, having been elected unpledged, by -the combined votes of farmers, cowboys, and citizens of the town, in a -revolt against a candidate they did not like, he still stood -unpledged, and would vote as his conscience dictated in all things. He -was not to be considered, he said, as belonging to the party or -interests represented by this caucus, and if he had known that those -attending it were supposed to be pledged to do the will of the -majority he would not have been there. They must understand his -position. He would not deceive them. - -Justin did not expect to create a sensation when he delivered that -brief speech, but it was like hurling a bomb. Of all the men there -Fogg was apparently the most surprised and hurt. He came to Justin -immediately, as the caucus began to break into groups, and while -Justin was trying to get out of the room. Angry men were shouting -questions at Justin. Fogg resolved to maintain his conciliatory -attitude. - -"You're making a mistake," he said, in a low tone, hooking a finger in -Justin's buttonhole in a friendly manner. "You'll live to regret it. -You're a young man just entering political life. You're educated and -you've got ability; and a young man of education and ability can make -almost anything of himself, in a country like this. But not if he -starts out in this way. You've got to stand with somebody. Don't lose -your head now. We're the strongest party. Stand with us. We're going -to win this fight, and you can't afford to be on the losing side." - -"Fogg," said Justin, looking almost angrily at him, "I won't be -pulled and hauled about by you nor any other man. I'm not trying to -control you, and you can't control me. I came up here untrammeled. -When it comes to voting in the house of representatives I intend to -listen to the arguments for and against every measure, and then I -shall make up my mind and vote for whatever seems to me to be right." - -"You can't do that, Justin," Fogg urged. He was nervously solicitous. -"Legislatures are run by majorities, by parties. If every man stood -by himself nothing could be accomplished. Sometimes we must vote for -measures we don't like in order to help along measures we do like. In -a place like this men have to stand together. You can't afford to herd -by yourself, like an outcast buffalo. You'll want to come up here -again, or you will want an office of some kind. Now don't be quick, -don't be nervous and gunpowdery; think it over, think it over." - -He patted Justin on the shoulder. He was much shorter than Justin and -had to reach up, and it was a comical motion. - -Justin released himself from Fogg's grasp, and though men were still -shouting at him and trying to reach him, he moved on out of the room -without speaking to any one. - -To his surprise, the tenor of his speech in the caucus seemed to be -known everywhere almost immediately. Men came to him; some arguing -with him, others praising him. He went out into the street to escape -them. Returning, he was thinking of retreating to the privacy of his -room, when a newsboy rushed through the corridor yelling, "Extra! All -about the defection of the representative from Flatrock County!" - -Justin Wingate's "defection" was not an hour old, yet here it was -blazoned in print. He snatched one of the papers and made for his -room, where he read it in a state of exasperated bewilderment, for he -found himself denounced in unmeasured terms. This paper was the organ -of the cattlemen. "Scare heads" above the news columns of the first -page informed an astonished world of cattlemen that a Judas Iscariot -had arisen suddenly in their midst to betray them with an unholy kiss. -In a brief paragraph on the editorial page Justin was spoken of as -"The Cattlemen's Benedict Arnold." Elected chiefly by cowboy votes, he -was, the paper said, preparing to "sell them out." - -Justin threw down the paper. Newsboys were yelling in the street. He -left the room, thinking to get another paper. As he made his way -toward the hotel office a smiling little man tapped him on the -shoulder. He saw Fogg advancing with one of the offensive newspapers -in his hands, and scarcely noticing the little man he turned about, -seeking a way of escape, and found himself in another room. The little -man closed the door behind Justin; and the men before him, rising from -their chairs, began to cheer. - -This was a caucus of the opposition, and Justin discovered that he was -being hailed as an ally, and was expected to say something. He would -declare himself to them, he resolved suddenly, even though these men -might not like what he said, or the manner of its saying, any better -than those others. He would tell them that he did not belong to any -faction, and should vote only as his conscience led him. Then, if he -must stand alone, he would do so. - -He hardly knew what he said, yet it was well said. Clayton's training -had given him command of language, and his honest indignant feelings -and ingenuous nature gave him force and candor. As he spoke the caucus -broke into frantic cheering. Men stood in their chairs and yelled like -wild Indians, or maniacs. Here Justin was not an Iscariot or an -Arnold, but a "patriot" and a "savior." This caucus represented the -irrigationists, and Justin's declaration that he would vote only as -his conscience dictated assured them that he was not to be controlled -by the ranchmen, and that the reports they had received from Paradise -Valley concerning him were true. - -Escaping from these men Justin returned to his room, to which Fogg -came soon, though Justin was in no mood to receive him. Fogg closed -the door softly and dropped somewhat heavily into a chair. His fat -face looked worried. - -"You don't doubt that I'm your friend, Justin?" he said, cautiously. - -"I don't know that I've any right to doubt it; you've always been my -friend, heretofore." - -"And I'm your friend now--the best friend you've got in this city." - -"The only one, I suppose," said Justin, tipping his chair against the -wall and looking at Fogg keenly. "I'm a stranger here." - -"So I've come to talk this matter over with you. I don't need to go -into details--you know how you were elected, by a queer combination of -opposing interests. The cowboys who voted for you did it because they -like you and dislike Ben Davison, and not because they want you to -oppose the ranch interests in the legislature. If they considered the -matter at all, which is doubtful, they thought they could trust you -not to do anything here that would be to their injury. Likely you -think you owe your election to the farmers, but you don't; they -supported you, but it was the cowboy vote which elected you." - -"I have never questioned that fact," said Justin. - -"Perhaps not, but you seem to forget it. Now, there's another thing, -of even greater importance, it appears to me, which you ought to take -into consideration. The cattlemen are a power in this state. At -present they are allied with the party in control here, and the same -party is in control at Washington. You know what that means." - -"I should be a fool if I didn't." - -"Just so; and understanding the situation, is it the part of -wisdom--under all the circumstances now, Justin--is it the part of -wisdom for you to oppose that party? The opposition, which is just now -making such a noise, is a composite thing bound together with a rope -of sand. A half-dozen factions have thrown their influence to the -minority party and are making a desperate effort to get control of the -legislature. Suppose they succeed this time, where will they be next -year, or two or four years from now? They are antagonistic on every -question but this, and they will fall apart; nothing else can happen, -as you must see yourself. Don't you see that?" - -"Yes, I can see that all right." - -"Well, then, what is to be gained, in a personal way, by going over to -them? I'm not going to argue the thing with you, but just make these -statements to set you to thinking." - -Fogg knew when he had said enough, and he arose to go. - -"What did that paper mean, by attacking me in that way?" Justin asked. - -Fogg sat down again. - -"Newspaper men are as likely to make fools of themselves as other men. -They rushed that edition onto the street as a 'beat,' or 'scoop.' -They're sorry they did it already, if they've got as much brains as I -think they have." - -"Why should it be assumed in the first place that I intended to ally -myself with the cattlemen, and why should the simple statement which I -made in that caucus cause me to be branded as a Judas and Benedict -Arnold?" - -"It was simply an exhibition of what those fellows would call -journalistic enterprise, I suppose. They wanted to make a sensation, -and sell papers. They even sold a copy to you." Fogg laughed. "You -wouldn't have bought that copy, otherwise." - -"Well, I wasn't pleased by it. If anything would make me vote against -the cattlemen when I thought I ought to vote with them, such attacks -as that would." - -Fogg laughed again, and ran his fingers over the shining gold chain -that lay across his rotund stomach. - -"The fellow that stands in the limelight has got to take his medicine, -and it's no use kicking. The only way to do is to go straight ahead -and take no notice of what the papers say. That's what I try to do, -though I admit I get my mad up sometimes over some of the things they -print about me. That paper, which poured vitriol on you to-day, will -shower you with rosewater and honey to-morrow, if what you do pleases -it." - -"I shan't try to please it!" Justin declared, angrily. - -"No, I wouldn't; I'd try to please myself, and I'd try to look out for -Number One. Well, I must be going!" He rose again. "And just think -over what I've said to you in friendship. The range will be here, and -the cattlemen, when all these other little barking dogs are dead and -forgotten. My word for it, a desire for loot and plunder is really all -that holds them together now, though they're making such a howl about -public virtue and honesty. I've been in the political whirl before, -and I know those men right down to the ground." - -He extended his hand as he reached the door, and Justin, having risen -also, took it. - -"I'm your friend," said Fogg, as a final word, "and what I've said is -for your own good." - -When he was gone Justin sat down to think it over. He knew there was -much truth in Fogg's statements. The conglomerate opposition -struggling now to gain control of the legislature would fall to pieces -inevitably by and by. If he voted with the ranch interests he would -please the cowboys who had worked for his election, he would please -Fogg and Davison, and he would not displease Lucy Davison. But would -he please himself? Would he please Curtis Clayton? He could not hope -by so doing to please the farmers. - -Justin had ambition, though he was not consumed by it. He did not wish -to wreck his future. Philip Davison, in that memorable interview, had -told him to do something, be something, accomplish something. In the -interval between that time and now no opportunity had come to him. He -had left the ranch, where he could earn only cowboy's wages, though -not wholly because of the low wages. He had for a time secured -employment in the town, but the position had been neither promising -nor permanent. He had been thinking seriously of going to Denver, to -try his fortunes in its larger field, when the fire came which -incapacitated him, and after the fire this unexpected election. - -He was in Denver now, and he was a member of the legislature. Ambition -and a desire to show to Philip Davison that he was not unworthy of his -regard and friendship, not unworthy even to become the husband of Lucy -Davison, urged him to one course; Clayton's teachings and influence, -and his own inner feeling as to what was right and what was not right, -was urging him to the opposite course. Should he continue to offend -Philip Davison and at the same time wreck his political prospects? - -"But what can I do?" was his mental cry, as he struggled with this -problem. "I can't vote for things which I know are not right, nor for -men I know I can't trust." - -Early in the morning he encountered Fogg. The encounter was not by -chance, though Fogg pretended that it was. - -"I hope you thought over those things carefully?" he inquired, unable -to conceal his anxiety. - -"I have thought to this point," said Justin; "I will vote with the -cattlemen wherever my conscience will let me, but I can't vote for -your candidate for United States senator." - -Fogg stood aghast. - -"That puts you in the camp of the irrigationists, with all that -mongrel crew!" - -"I can't help it." - -Justin's tone was decided. His face was feverish. He had passed a bad -night. - -"I can't help it, if it does, Fogg. The things that man stands for are -not right, and I can't support him." - -Fogg detained him, and threshed the old arguments over; he even used -the potent argument that Justin ought not to follow deliberately a -course that must inevitably injure Philip Davison very much in a -financial sense; but, having with deep travail of soul reached that -one conclusion, Justin Wingate was now as immovable as a rock. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -HARKNESS AND THE SEER - - -Harkness and Clayton had come to Denver; Clayton to "hold up the -hands" of Justin, guessing what he would be called on to encounter, -and Harkness to see the "sights" in this time of political turmoil. -The cowboys were virtually in a state of revolt. It was not possible -that it could be otherwise. When Harkness, enraged and resentful, led -them in that rebellion against Ben Davison, ranch discipline was -destroyed and he lost control of them himself. Not that he now cared. -The impulse which led him to strike Ben to the earth by the ranch -house door had guided him since. He knew that the restraining hand of -Fogg, who had present interests to serve, alone checked the wrath of -Philip Davison. He, and all the other cowboys, must go, as soon as -this thing was settled. Nothing else was possible, when such a man as -Philip Davison was to be dealt with. - -Harkness met Justin on the street in front of the hotel and made -straight for him. It was not a bee-line, for Harkness was comfortably -intoxicated. He had the cowboy failing. Though he never touched liquor -while on the ranch and duty demanded sobriety, he could not resist the -temptation to drink with a friend or an acquaintance when he was in -the city. He greeted Justin with hilarious familiarity, and the scent -of the liquor mingling with the scent of cinnamon drops Justin found -almost overpowering. - -"Shake!" he cried, reeling as he took Justin's hand. "Justin, I'm yer -friend! Don't you never fergit it, I'm yer friend! And there ain't no -strings on you! Understand--there ain't--no--strings--on--you! We -fellers elected you 'cause we like you, and 'cause we couldn't vote -for Ben Davison. 'To hell with Ben Davison,' says I to the boys,--'to -hell with him; he took my wife's horse and left her and Helen to burn -to death in that fire! I'll see him damned 'fore--'fore I'll vote fer -him!' And so I would, Justin; an' we--we (hic) voted f'r--fer you, -see! We voted fer you. Davison's goin' to d'scharge me an' I know it, -but let him. I don't haf to be cowboy, I don't. Let him d'scharge -(hic) and damn to him! Let him d'scharge. But you go right ahead an' -do as you want to. You're honest, an' you're all right, an' we're -backin' you." - -When Fogg appeared--he had not yet abandoned hope of Justin--Harkness -swayed up to him pugnaciously. He had never liked Fogg, and he liked -him less now. Fogg's oiliness sickened the cowboy stomach. - -"Fogg," he blustered, "Justin's my friend, see! And there ain't no -strings on him. He's honest, an' we're backin' him. You want to hear -my sentiments? 'To hell with Ben Davison!' Them's my sentiments, an' I -ain't 'shamed of 'em. Davison's goin' to d'scharge me an' I know it. -Le'm d'scharge. Who keers f'r d'scharge? I don't haf to be cowboy, I -don't. But you treat Justin right. You've got to treat (hic) treat him -right, fer he's my friend, see!" - -Fogg protested that he had never contemplated treating Justin in any -other way, and that Justin was his good friend as well as Harkness's. - -Wandering about Denver that day, "staring like a locoed steer," as he -afterward expressed it, Harkness came to a stand in front of a doorway -and looked at a man who had emerged therefrom. The man was William -Sanders, but he passed on without observing Harkness. - -"What's he doin' up here?" Harkness queried, as he watched the -familiar figure disappear in the crowd. - -Sanders had gone, and to get an answer to his question Harkness stared -at the doorway, and the building, a somewhat imposing edifice of -brick, situated on one of the principal streets. It was given over to -offices of various kinds, he judged; but what fixed his eye was a sign -with a painted index-hand pointing to it. - -"Madame Manton, Seer, Fortune teller, Palmist, and Clairvoyant. -Fortune telling and astrology. The past and the future revealed. Lost -articles found, dreams interpreted, lovers re-united." - -There was a statement below this, in much smaller letters, setting -forth that Madame Manton, who was a seventh daughter of a seventh -daughter and from birth gifted with miraculous second-sight, had just -returned to America after a prolonged stay in European capitals, -during which she had achieved marvellous successes and had been -consulted on important matters by the crowned heads. - -Harkness did not know whether to connect the egress of William Sanders -from that doorway with this fortune teller or not, but the vagaries of -his intellectual condition impelled him to enter. Following the -direction of the pointing hand, he was soon climbing a stairway which -led to the door of this professed mistress of the black arts. Here -another sign, with even more emphatic statements, greeted him. On this -door Harkness hammered lustily. - -"Come in!" said a voice. - -Harkness tried the knob with fumbling fingers, then set his massive -shoulders to the panel, and was fairly precipitated into the room -where a rosy half-light glowed from a red lamp, and the sunlight, -showing through heavy red curtains, conjured queer shadows in the -corners. At the farther end of the room sat a woman. She was robed in -red, and her chair was red. A reddish veil hid her face. But the hand -she extended was small and white, and flashed the fire of diamonds. - -Harkness was so taken aback that he was almost on the point of bolting -from the room. But that would have savored of a lack of courage, and -his drink-buoyed mind resented the imputation. He would not run, even -from a red fortune teller. Seeing a chair by the door he dropped into -it, stared at the woman, and not knowing what else to do took out his -red handkerchief to mop his red face. The odor of cinnamon drops -floating out from it combined with that of the whiskey and filled the -room. - -"If you will be kind enough to close the door!" said the woman. - -She was looking at him intently. He closed the door, and dropped back -into the chair. He crossed his legs nervously, then uncrossed them, -wiped his face again with the scented handkerchief, and finally stuck -his big hands into his big pockets to get rid of them. He was dressed -in half cowboy garb, and it began to dawn on him that he was "cutting -a pretty figure," sitting there with that fortune teller. - -"I suppose you'd like to have your fortune told?" she questioned. - -"I dunno 'bout that!" he protested, his big hands burrowing deep into -his pockets. "I seen a feller come from this way, and I kinder p'inted -my toes in the same direction. Mebbe you was tellin' his fortune?" - -"No one has been here for more than an hour." - -"Then I reckon I was mistook. Do you make up these here fortunes out -of your own head, or how?" - -"I tell whatever is to be told." - -"Fer coin?" - -"Yes, for coin. Even a fortune teller must live. Put five dollars on -that tray beside you and I will begin." - -"If you can tag me, I'll make it ten!" - -Harkness put a crisp five dollar bill on the tray. If she had said ten -he would have placed that there. Liquor made him generous. - -"You do not believe in fortunes?" - -"Not any, lady. I stumbled into this game, and I'm simply playin' it -fer the fun of it, same's I used to go into a game of cards with Ben -Davison, when I knowed good and well he'd skin me. I'm goin' up -ag'inst your game, lady, and payin' before the game begins. It's cut -out fer me to lose, but I'll double the bet and lose it willin' if you -can put your finger on me an' tell me whatever about myself. I don't -reckon you can do it." - -A low laugh of amusement came from behind the veil. - -"You might as well put down the other five dollars now, to save you -the trouble of doing it later." - -Then she leaned forward and stared at him so intently that he felt -almost nervous. There was something uncanny in that rigid stare, and -in the strained tones of her voice, when she spoke after prolonged -silence. He fancied he could see her glowing eyes through the mesh of -the veil. - -"Your last name begins with an H. Let me see! It is something like -Hearing. No, it can't be that! It's Hark--Hark--Harkening. No, that -can't be. I can't get it; but I didn't promise to tell names. There -are a great many cattle where you live. Yes, and you are married. -That's strange, for not many cowboys are married. You have a little -girl." - -She put her hand to her head, and was silent a moment. - -"That's very queer. The name of your little girl, her first name, -begins with an H." She uttered a little inarticulate cry. "And, oh, -dear, she seems to be surrounded by fire; flames are on all sides of -her, and smoke! And she is frightened." - -Harkness started from his chair. - -"She ain't in any fire now?" - -The woman dropped back with a sigh. - -"No, not now," she admitted; "that is past. I am telling you things -you know about, so that you will see that I have the power I claim. -Some one, some one on horseback, is saving her from that fire." - -"And a certain cuss is skedaddlin' without liftin' a finger to help -her!" said Harkness grimly. "Put that in the picture, fer I ain't -fergittin' it." - -The disclosures which followed astonished the intoxicated cowboy. He -could not have revealed them more clearly himself. The fortune teller -took excursions into the future too, in a way to please him; and, as -she could tell the past so well, he was glad to believe in her -glittering portrayals of delights to come. - -Altogether Harkness was bewildered to the point of stupefaction. He -was sure he had never seen this woman nor she him, and her knowledge -produced in him a half-frightened sensation. Though he always -resolutely denied it to himself and to others, he was deeply -superstitious. If he began to sing as soon as he rose in the morning, -he tried to dissipate the bad luck that foretold by singing the words -backward. If he chanced to observe the new moon for the first time -over his left shoulder, he turned round in his tracks three times and -looked at it over his right. If he saw a pin on the floor with its -point toward him he picked it up, for that was a sign of good luck. -And he had such a collection of cast-off horseshoes he could have -started a shoeing shop on short notice. - -Harkness was so well satisfied with the fortune teller that when she -concluded he dropped the second five dollar bill on the tray. - -"You're as welcome to it, lady, as if it was water," he declared. -"Five dollars won't count even a little bit when I come into the -fortune you p'inted out to me. You're a silver-plated seer from the -front counties. You'll find Dicky Carroll jumpin' into this red -boodoir the first time he hits Denver. I'll tell him about you, and -it'll set him wild." - -Then he plunged down the stairway, fully convinced that he had -received the full worth of his money, not at all knowing that he had -imparted much more information than he had received. - -When he was gone the woman leaned back in her red chair and laughed -until the tears came into her eyes. She laid aside the reddish veil, -thus revealing the features of Sibyl Dudley, and wiped away the tears -with a filmy handkerchief. - -Then she began to make an estimate of the value of the information she -had received from this intoxicated cowboy, and from William Sanders. -It was considerable. She had formed many of her statements so craftily -that they were questions, and she had made these men talk about -themselves and their affairs in really garrulous fashion. - -When a little time had elapsed she ventured into the street, in an -entirely different garb and veiled more heavily. Walking across the -street she hailed a cab, and was driven home, halting however at a -corner to purchase copies of the latest Denver papers. At home she -began to absorb their contents. - -Sibyl Dudley's finances were at a low ebb. Mr. Plimpton, the stock -broker, had met a reverse of fortune, and criminal proceedings being -hinted by men he had fleeced, he had gone into exile. Where he was -Sibyl did not know, and if she had known he could not have helped her, -for he had now no money. With debts thickening about her, and no new -admirer with a plethoric bank account yet appearing, she was being -driven to desperate extremities. To tide over this day of evil fortune -she had, carefully veiled that no one might know her, become Madame -Manton. - -All these years she had kept Mary Jasper with her. Her attitude toward -Mary may be thought singular. Yet to Sibyl it was entirely natural. -She had plucked and worn this fair flower at first that it might add -to her attractiveness, as she would have plucked a wild rose to tuck -in her corsage on some gay evening when she desired to accentuate her -physical attractions in the eyes of men. But the utter simplicity and -guilelessness which Mary had worn through all as a protecting armor -had touched some hidden spring in this woman's heart, so that she came -at last to cherish a brave desire to stand well in the opinion of this -pure girl and maintain firmly her position on that pinnacle of -supposed goodness and kindness where Mary had established her. Hence -her charities were continued by and by, not to create that inner -warmth of which she had spoken, but that Mary might believe her to be -charitable. And if any good angel could have done so great a thing as -to pull her from that miry clay in which her feet were set Mary Jasper -would, all unconsciously, have accomplished even that. Sibyl Dudley, -driven back upon herself, had to have some one who could love and -respect her; for in spite of all she was a woman, and love was -starving in her heart. - -But she was not courageous enough to be honest; and, having read -through the papers, she sat thinking and planning how she might win -money enough to continue her present fight against adverse -circumstances. She could not confess to Mary that she was not rich, -that she was a pretender, and vile and degraded. No, she could not do -that. But to keep up her pretensions she must have money. Fortune -telling was an odious and precarious calling. She was sinking deeper -into debt. She must have money. - -Putting away the papers and going to her mirror she scanned her -appearance. In spite of her strenuous fight, Time had the slow-moving -years with him, and they bit into heart and face like acid. She -brought forth her rouge and her pencils. They had long worked wonders -and her slender fingers had not lost their cunning. She was an artist -in paint though she never touched brush to canvas. - -When Mary came in Sibyl was singing in a light-hearted way and -thrusting bits of cake to her canary between the bars of its gilded -cage. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE MOTH AND THE FLAME - - -Clayton was standing idly in front of his hotel. Sibyl Dudley and Mary -Jasper were driving by in the cool bright sunshine of the late -afternoon. Sibyl glanced keenly at the well-known figure. Clayton had -lost much in trimness and neatness of appearance by his long sojourn -in Paradise Valley. His clothing was ill-fitting, and his almost -useless left arm appeared to swing more stiffly than ever, as the -crowd jostled him. The contrast between the stylishly-dressed woman in -the carriage and this man who had once been her husband was marked. -Yet the handsome face of the man was still there, almost unseamed, and -it revealed kindness and cultured intelligence, as of old. - -"It is Doctor Clayton!" she said. "He looks so lonely and is such a -stranger here that it will be a kindness if we speak to him. I knew -him very well once, you know." - -The horses had trotted on, unnoticed by Clayton. Sibyl spoke now to -the driver, and the carriage was turned and driven back to the hotel. -The old desire to prove her power over this man possessed her. And she -might be able to use him! - -"Speak to him," she said to Mary. "It will please him, I'm sure, to -meet some one he knows. And it's so long since I met him that he may -have forgotten me entirely." - -The carriage with the well-groomed horses in their shining harness had -drawn up at the curb. Even yet the abstracted doctor had not observed -the occupants of the carriage. But now, when Mary addressed him, he -looked up, almost startled to hear his name spoken there. He -recognized Mary, and his face flushed a deep red when he recognized -also the woman who sat smiling beside her. - -"It is Doctor Clayton, is it not?" said Sibyl, speaking to him and -using her utmost witchery. "It seems so strange to see you away from -Paradise Valley. But it is a pleasure." - -He came up to the carriage, hesitating for words. He did not trust -this woman, yet he could not forget what she had once been to him. And -he had always liked Mary, as he liked her crabbed old father. He had -justified himself for not speaking to Sloan Jasper, with the thought -that he really knew nothing concerning the life that Sibyl was living. -When a man cannot justify his actions he loses self-respect, and -Clayton had never lost his self-respect. He had known nothing of -Sibyl's private life from the moment of his plunge into the -world-forgotten valley of Paradise. He knew nothing now. As he looked -into her eyes, the trepidation and confusion which had produced that -hot flush was mingled with pity and a yearning touch of the old love. -She had faded, she was garish, yet she was Sibyl, and to him still -beautiful; Sibyl, whom he had loved and married, and from whom he had -fled. - -"You are looking well," he said to Mary, though she was not looking -well, for trouble with Ben had set shadows in her dark eyes. "And you, -too Mrs.----" - -He hesitated. - -"Dudley," Sibyl supplemented. "We haven't met for so long that you -have actually forgotten my name!" She smiled amiably. "Won't you take a -seat with us for a little spin about the streets? This crowd bores -you, I know." - -He still hesitated, hunting for words. He had never felt so awkward, -nor had his clothing ever seemed to set so badly or look so mean. He -began to realize that in Paradise Valley he had lost something. Where -was the neatly-dressed college student, filled with learning and a -desire to please? Apparently only the learning and the desire to -please remained. And that desire to please, which often took the form -of an inability to displease any one, made it impossible for him to -refuse this invitation. - -Clayton, entering the carriage, found himself by Sibyl's dexterous -manipulation placed in the seat at her side, with Mary in the seat in -front of them. He looked at Mary as the carriage started, and he -wondered, and his heart smote him. Then he looked at the woman who sat -with him. - -"She is very happy with me," said Sibyl, as the horses beat their -noisy tattoo through the street, deadening the sound of her voice. -"And there isn't a better girl in the world!" There was a peculiar -emphasis on the words. "If you thought differently, you have been much -mistaken. She has been as safe with me as that boy Justin has been -with you; and I love her as much as you can possibly love him. She is -a dear, true, simple-hearted girl, and she thinks everything of me. -And I am much better than you have ever thought. So don't get silly -ideas into your head, simply because you see this carriage and I wear -a few diamonds. The carriage may be hired and the diamonds paste. It -was one of your dogmas, you know, that people should always hold -charitable opinions." - -"And I do. I have always thought kindly of you and had charitable -opinions of you. One never knows what he would do if put in the -position of another. I was hurt, crushed; but I never could have it in -my heart to blame you for anything. Sometimes I felt bitter, but even -the bitterness has long since worn away." - -Mary turned in her seat and began to speak to them, and the -conversation was not taken up until Clayton and Sibyl were alone -together in her home, to which they were driven after they had -traversed a few streets. Sibyl was anxious to get Clayton to herself, -and she therefore cut the drive short, complaining of the chill of -approaching night. - -Mary, fluttering about the rooms, came into the parlor and went out -again at intervals. Sibyl had kindly relieved her of the task of -entertaining Clayton. Remembering the story of his broken arm, Mary -felt a deep sympathy for him, yet she had never been able to converse -with him at length. He was so learned and wise, and at times so -strange and silent, that he oppressed her. She revered him, but she -could not talk with him. Besides, she had a letter to write to Ben, -who was coming to Denver in a day or two, and she wanted to think -about Ben and what she should say to him in that letter. The -composition of a letter even to Ben was not always an easy thing; and -though she still wrote to her father each Sunday, what she said to him -was so brief, sometimes, that for all the space required to contain it -she might have sprawled it on a postal card. - -While Mary thought of Ben and studied for words and sentences before -secluding herself to begin the actual work of writing, she gave -thought also to Clayton and Sibyl, and was quite sure that Sibyl was -kind and charitable in thus seeking to give pleasure to the lonely -doctor who had been apparently at a loss in the Denver streets. And -then, it came like a flash--what if Clayton should fall in love with -Sibyl, and they should marry? It seemed to her that much stranger -things had happened. And in contemplating this new and bright -suggestion she built up a very pretty little romance, which had a -marked resemblance to some of those which Pearl used to read. Romantic -ideas fluttered in Mary's pretty head as thickly as butterflies amid -Japanese cherry blossoms. - -When she began the composition of her letter, dipping her gold pen in -the blue ink which Ben liked, Sibyl was at the piano and singing in a -way to disturb the flow of her thoughts. - -"But she has a beautiful voice!" thought Mary, laying down the pen and -listening with admiration. "Wouldn't it be strange if they should take -a fancy to each other and marry?" - -It appeared entirely possible, now that Mr. Plimpton had departed from -Denver. - -Sibyl was singing one of the old songs that touched the deep springs -of the past, and Clayton with inexpressible yearning was wishing that -the years between could drop away and he could be her willing slave -again. The love that had been dead, though it came forth now bound -about with grave-clothes, lived again, and spoke to his heart a -familiar language. - -"You remember the song?" she said, looking up into his face and -smiling. He had come forward to the piano. - -"Yes," he confessed. "I shall never forget it. You sang it the evening -you told me you loved me and would be my wife. I wish you had chosen -another." - -"Why?" - -She looked steadily into his eyes, half veiling her own with their -dark lashes. - -"There is no need to ask," he said, and retreated to his chair. "The -change since then is too great. I am not the same, and you are not the -same." He glanced at his stiff arm and his ill-fitting clothing. -"Nothing can ever be the same again." - -She was studying how she might win him, if only temporarily. Certain -plans were no longer fluid, and she believed she could use him. - -"That doesn't sound like you, Curtis." - -"Sibyl," he threw out his stiff arm with a protesting gesture, "I hope -you are not trying to play with me, as a cat with a mouse. You know -how I have always felt toward you. You know that even after you sold -yourself to that man Plimpton, I----" - -She commanded silence by putting her fingers to her lips; and -tip-toeing to the door she closed it, that Mary might not by any -chance hear his unguarded words. - -"Even after that I would have taken you back gladly, and could have -forgiven you and loved you, for I was always a fool about you. You -will pardon me for speaking so plainly? I don't want to hurt your -feelings. I went away, as you know, and have tried to find peace by -burying myself from the world. And I have found peace, of a certain -kind. But I am not the same as I was. I hope I am not as weak as I -was." - -Yet he knew he had at that moment no more stability than water. If he -could have believed any protestation she might make, he would have -done so joyfully, and would have gone far to purchase such a belief. - -"I have been a great fool in many ways," she admitted. "But I hope not -a bigger fool than the man who pitches himself headlong out of the -living world into a desert simply because he and his wife have agreed -to a separation. But as you say, all that is past, and there is no -need to talk about it. Now I want to forget it and be your friend, if -I can't be anything else." - -"What else would you be?" - -He spoke in a hoarse voice. - -"At present, just your friend. You need a friend, and I need one. We -have been enemies a good while. Let us forget that, and be friends -again." - -"Mere friendship with you would never satisfy me, Sibyl. You know that -as well as I do. Unless I could be your husband, and hold you -heart-true to me as my wife, I could never be anything to you." - -Though shaken by his emotions he spoke with unusual determination. -Thoughts of Plimpton aroused whatever militant manhood there was in -him. For the instant he felt that he ought to have killed Plimpton, -and that his flight had been the flight of a coward. Sibyl saw that -she was approaching him from the wrong side. - -"Yet mere friendship, as you call it, is a good thing. The friendship -between Mary and myself, for instance, and that between you and -Justin--you will not say they are worthless. You even came up to -Denver, I think, to see Justin, because you could not bear to be -separated long from him." - -He looked at her earnestly, with a mental question. - -"Don't put your hands on him!" - -"Don't be a fool!" she said. "Why should I? But I won't beg for the -favor of your friendship. I thought we might be friends, good friends. -You could establish yourself here in the city, and we could see each -other occasionally, if nothing else. I am a better woman than I used -to be, a very much better woman than you will believe me to be. Mary -has done that for me. And I suppose you thought I would ruin her? That -shows that you never understood me." - -"I couldn't stay here in Denver!" he protested. - -"We might be even more than friends, some time," she urged sweetly. - -"Sibyl," he seemed about to rise from his chair, but sank back, "if I -could believe you!" - -Her words, which he knew to be lies, were still sweet. His heart was -filled with unutterable longing, not for "the touch of a vanished -hand," but for a vanished past. - -"I will be your friend," he said earnestly, after a moment. "I have -never been anything else, except when I was your devoted lover and -foolish husband. I should like to be both again, if I could." - -"Even that might be. There is such a thing as forgetting, you know." - -"Not for me." - -"Then a forgiving." - -"Yes. Until to-night I thought I had forgiven, and I was trying to -forget. I shall be glad to be your friend, Sibyl. As to establishing -myself in Denver, to be near you, I will think about it. If--if there -were no such thing as memory, we might still be very happy." - -His under-current of common sense told him that he had again entered a -fool's paradise. - -"We can be happy, Curtis. You shall not leave Denver. I need more than -your friendship. I need your love. I tossed it away, but I didn't know -what I was doing. I need your love, and I know you will not refuse it. -You never refused me anything; whatever I asked, you gave me." - -He had already given her his life! - -In his room at the hotel that night Clayton packed and unpacked his -valise, in a state of delirious uncertainty. In the mirror he beheld -his face, ghastly as that of a dead man. But, slowly, his philosophy -came to his aid, - -"Lies, and I know it! And I am a coward! The thing for me to do is to -get back into the wilderness." - -The next morning he was gone. The letter which came shortly urged -Justin, in a shaky hand, to stand for principle, no matter what -happened, and explained that the writer felt that he must hurry home. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE COMPACT - - -Lemuel Fogg was very much astonished when he received a call from -Sibyl Dudley, who invaded the privacy of his room without taking the -trouble to announce her coming. Fogg did not know much about Mrs. -Dudley, except that she was a friend and patron of Sloan Jasper's -pretty daughter, and lived in Denver. He had once remarked to an -acquaintance, as she passed, that she was "a stunning woman." And he -was not ready to withdraw that opinion now, when he saw her before -him. Having sallied forth to conquer, she had not neglected anything -that would add to her attractiveness in masculine eyes. - -It did not take Sibyl long to acquaint Fogg with the nature of her -errand. She was tactfully frank, for she knew how to reach such a man. - -"Mr. Fogg, I'm horribly in debt," she announced, looking him in the -face without the quiver of an eyelash. "I must have money, five -thousand dollars, to be paid to me if I prevent Justin Wingate from -giving his vote to the man the irrigationists want for United States -senator." - -He stared at her. How handsome she was! And what nerve she displayed! -Not one woman in a thousand would have made such a confession, or come -at him in that manner. Her idea appealed to him, if there was anything -in it. - -"Why, what can you do?" he asked. He smoothed his limp mustache, and -wondered if his collar set just right; he knew he had forgotten to -turn his reversible cuffs that morning! "What can you do, Mrs. Dudley? -Everything has been done that can be done already. I've begged him, -argued with him, prayed with him; and every man on our side who is -supposed to have the least influence with him has done the same thing. -We have even threatened him. Promises, threats, bribes, nothing will -move him." - -Sibyl smiled at him across the little table. She had beautiful teeth. - -"It can be done," she said, with sweet conviction. - -So singular and confident was her expression that he was almost -tempted to look into her ungloved right hand to see if she clasped a -poniard. He saw only the flash of her rings. - -"Why, what would you do;" he cried, in sudden amazement; "knife him?" - -She gave him a glance of scorn, which melted at once into a -captivating smile. - -"How absurd you are! Who ever dreamed of such a thing? This isn't the -Back of Beyond." - -"What would you do?" - -"Is it worth five thousand dollars to you if Justin Wingate does not -vote against the cattlemen's candidate for senator?" - -He regarded her thoughtfully, and jingled the watch chain that lay -across his round stomach. - -"Yes," he admitted, "it's worth every cent of it." - -"Will you agree to pay me that sum if I do keep him from casting that -vote? I am in debt and must have money; five thousand dollars is -little enough; but if you will satisfy me that you will give me that -much money I will prevent that vote." - -"Tell me how you're going to do it." - -"If I told you I should render my services valueless. You will have to -trust everything to me." - -"You want me to sign a note, or promise; I couldn't do that. It -wouldn't be good politics." - -"Then you will have to pay me something in advance. I must be secured -in some manner." - -Lemuel Fogg had never yet bought a pig in a poke, and he did not -intend to begin that doubtful practice now. He questioned Sibyl -Dudley's ability to do what she said. She was a very charming woman; -he admired her very much; but beautiful women had never the power to -make Lemuel Fogg cut his purse-strings. So he refused, very tactfully -and graciously, as becomes a man who has to refuse anything to a -pretty woman. She saw that it was a refusal, and final. - -"What will you do, then?" she asked. "If Justin casts that vote you -lose your senator. I can keep him from casting it." - -"If you will be quite frank with me, we'll get on faster, Mrs. -Dudley," Fogg urged. "You could perhaps tell me something of your -plans; I don't ask to know too much. But five thousand dollars is a -big sum of money." - -"It's a small sum, Mr. Fogg, for what I propose to do. You don't -believe I can prevent Justin from voting against your man. I can see -you don't." - -"Well, I'll say this much--nobody else could! Everything has been -tried that could be thought of. The fellow is a fool, and it's -impossible to reason with a fool." - -"Justin is anything but a fool, but he has an uncomfortable lot of -queer notions. I think he must have obtained them from that doctor he -has been living with down in Paradise Valley. I chance to know -something of the character of Doctor Clayton; and while he is, I -suppose, one of the best men in the world, so far as pure goodness -goes, he is as foolish and illogical as a cat, or a woman." - -"Yet you are a woman!" - -Fogg was beginning to be comfortable again. He would not have to -advance money to Mrs. Dudley, and having safely weathered that -dangerous cape he felt better. - -"All women are not cats or fools. For instance, I am not so foolish as -not to know the value of money, and the value of the ability I happen -to have. You say you won't advance me anything; what will you do?" - -Fogg looked at her and jingled his watch chain. - -"Mrs. Dudley, I'm willing to be as generous as you can expect, -conditionally. If that money should be paid I'd have to take a big -part of it out of my own pocket. The rest I could probably raise among -my friends. I will promise you, as faithfully as a promise can be made -that is not put in writing, that if by any means you can induce or -force Justin Wingate to vote for our man for United States senator, or -even to withhold his vote from the opposition, you shall have the five -thousand dollars you named. We could win with his vote, and if he -refused to vote at all I think we still could win. Will that promise -do?" - -"Five thousand dollars is not enough, if I am to have no money in -advance. I shall charge you interest; a thousand dollars in interest." -She laughed lightly. "Give me your promise that if Justin refuses to -cast his vote for United States senator, or votes for your man, I may -draw on you for six thousand dollars through any bank if you do not -pay the money at once, and I will demonstrate my ability to control -him. Six thousand dollars if I succeed, and not a cent if I fail. That -is fair." - -Fogg twisted uneasily in his chair, which was almost too small for his -big body. - -"You're trying to drive a hard bargain. Remember that I shall probably -have to pay the most of that money myself, if you succeed." - -"If you're as shrewd as I think you are you will not have to pay a -cent of it; you can twist it out of men who are interested in this -matter. I feel sure that your candidate for senator, together with his -friends and the cattlemen, would raise ten thousand dollars, and not -say a word against it, if this thing could be guaranteed. I've studied -the papers, Mr. Fogg." - -She laughed again lightly. - -"Yes, if it could be guaranteed." - -"This is the same; the money can be raised conditionally; you can get -it together in some bank, with the understanding that it is to be -returned to those who contribute, every cent, if the thing is not -accomplished. And another thing, Mr. Fogg; it will be as well not to -mention my name in the matter. Political secrets must be kept close, -when so many newspaper men are around. If Justin should once get the -idea into his head that a deliberate attempt is being made to control -him everything would be lost." - -"Yes, I agree with you there." He put his fat hands on the arms of his -chair and settled back heavily. He was running over the list of men -from whom money might be secured. "And I think I can raise the money, -if necessary. Six thousand dollars to you if Justin Wingate does not -vote, or votes for our man; and you can draw on me for it the day -after a United States senator is elected, if I fail to pay it. It's a -bargain; and I hope I shall have to pay it." - -"You will have to pay it. Pardon me if I say to you that I didn't come -here on a fool's errand. I have your promise, and I shall consider it -as binding as a note." - -She arose, still looking at him. For a moment she hesitated, then put -out her ungloved hand. He had scrambled out of his chair, and he took -the hand, giving it a warm pressure. - -"Mr. Fogg, now that we know each other, we can help each other!" She -fixed her clear dark eyes upon his. On her upturned face he observed a -single rouge spot, hastily applied, but it did not trouble him; his -thought was that she was very beautiful. The touch of her warm hand -tingled in his large one. "And I hope," she hesitated in a most -attractive manner, "that we can be very good friends!" - -"I should like to, Mrs. Dudley, I should like to; and I'll get you -that money. You needn't be afraid that I'll fail in that. You shall -have the whole of it, if I have to pay it myself. I'm very glad that -you came to see me in this manner, privately. You're a woman to know." - -He laughed coarsely. - -But when she was gone, when her personality no longer enthralled, and -he sat down to think of her visit in cold blood, Lemuel Fogg began to -feel that it might not be a good thing for his bank account if he knew -Mrs. Dudley too intimately. - -"But I'm glad she came," he thought, as he settled back in his chair, -put his feet on the table for comfort, and struck a match to light his -cigar; "we must have that note; or at least we must get it away from -the opposition, if it can be done. I'll begin a hustle for that money -to-morrow. But I wonder how she expects to control him? By smiling on -him, as she did on me?" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE THRALL OF THE PAST - - -Sibyl Dudley searched for both Curtis Clayton and William Sanders. -When she could not find them, she reasoned that they had gone back to -Paradise Valley, and sent them letters urging them to return to -Denver. Ben had arrived, and after a talk with Sibyl, and another with -Mary, he had induced Mary to send a pressing invitation to Lucy -Davison to visit her for a few days. - -Meanwhile, Justin was trying to find himself. The violence and -virulence of party and factional feeling astonished him. He had not -known that men could be so rabid and unreasonable. He was as -bewildered by the discovery, and by the furious assaults made on him -by men and newspapers, as he had been by the surprising fact of his -election. He could not have been assailed more vindictively if he had -been a criminal. To hold an honest opinion honestly seemed to be -considered a crime by those whom it antagonized. - -Candor had ever been impressed on him as a cardinal virtue. It brought -a shock to discover that it was anything but a virtue in this -political world to which he was so new. Concealment, duplicity, the -accomplishment of a purpose by fair means or foul, these seemed to be -the things that had value. It was true that a certain faction in -Denver agreed with him, but the agreement was for pecuniary and -material reasons. He could see that if their interests lay in the -other direction they would oppose him as heartily. Even these men -could not keep from pointing out to him how much he was to gain. They -thought to stiffen his courage by assuring him that he was on the side -that must win. As if that would move him now! No man seemed able to -understand that the opinions he held and expressed had no root in a -desire to advance himself or enrich himself. - -With these discoveries came a temporary weakening of his faith. He was -no Sir Oracle, and had never pretended to be, and he began to doubt -himself and his conclusions. He wanted to do right, but what was -right? Was it an abstraction, after all? He had never before -questioned the certainty of those inner feelings on which he had -always relied for guidance. Was conscience but a thing of education? A -man had told him so but the day before. - -As there was no help outwardly he had to burrow for it inwardly. The -stimulating wine of memory lay inward, and he drew on it for strength, -recalling those hours and even days of quiet thought and talk with -Clayton which followed the election. Before him in all its pristine -beauty rose that dream of Peter Wingate, that the desert, by which -Wingate meant Paradise Valley, should blossom as the rose. Wingate's -hopeful and prophetic sermons had made a deep impression on the -plastic mind of the boy who heard them. Though Justin scarcely knew -it, that dream of a redeemed desert, working slowly through the years, -had become his own. It had long been merely a vague desire, holding at -first the form given to it by the minister, that settlers might come -in and till the land. But Justin had long since seen that if settlers -came in, they must go out again if water was not to be had, and that -irrigation alone possessed the transforming power which could make the -dream a reality. - -The farmers now in Paradise Valley were irrigating as well as they -could. They had little money and their devices were of a make-shift -character. Yet wherever they could induce water to flow the desert -bloomed. Justin had come to sympathize with them in their struggle -against adverse conditions the more perhaps because he had so long -held that guilty knowledge of the fact that Ben Davison had cut their -dam. - -In thus surveying the field before him and choosing between the -cattlemen and the irrigationists, as they were represented in the -valley of Paradise, which was the only world he knew well, Justin had -a growing comprehension of that large truth, that if he who makes two -blades of grass to grow where but one grew before is a benefactor, a -still greater one is the man who changes a cattle range, where ten -acres will hardly support a cow, to an irrigated land where five acres -will sustain a home. This was the thing indefinitely and faultily -foreshadowed in Peter Wingate's dream. - -The conditions in Paradise Valley were duplicated in many places -throughout the state. Should the struggling farmers give way to the -cattlemen, or should they be assisted? If the farmers held the -irrigable lands there would be plenty of range left; for there were -millions of acres which could never be touched by water, where cattle -could graze undisturbing and undisturbed. But the cattlemen coveted -the rich valleys where water could be secured without the expense of -pumps and windmills, as well as the dry, bunch-grass uplands. - -To hold the land they now occupied but did not own, they had allied -themselves with the political party which promised a senator whose -influence at Washington should favor them. If the agriculturalists -won, the illegal fences stretched on every league of grazing land -would have to come down, and that would be a serious if not fatal blow -to the ranch industry as it was then conducted. Already there were -threats and warnings from Washington. - -All this Justin included in his wide survey of the conditions which -confronted him. A poll of the votes to be cast had shown that he held -in his hand the deciding ballot. If he says it to the cattlemen their -candidate for United States senator would be elected, and would use -his influence to keep the government from interfering with the illegal -fences; the farmers would have to continue their unequal struggle, and -perhaps would be forced ultimately out of the country; present ranch -conditions would be maintained, and each winter would witness a -recurrence, in a greater or less degree, of that terrible tragedy of -the unsheltered range, where helpless animals perished by hundreds in -the pitiless storms. - -Influenced by Clayton and by the circumstances and incidents of his -ranch life, Justin could not help feeling that the open range stood -for barbarous cruelty, and agriculture for the reverse. He was the -thrall of the past. As often as that memory of the unsheltered range -came back to him, and out of the swirling snows starving and freezing -cattle looked at him with hungry eyes, while his ears caught their low -meanings mingled with the death song of the icy wind, he felt that his -intuitions were right, and his doubts fled away. - -Then would come the conviction that he had been led, until he stood -where he was now. Was it not a strange thing, he reflected at such -times, that he, who as a boy had sickened at the branding of a calf, -who later had suffered heart-ache with Clayton over the tragedies of -the range, who from the first had sympathized with the farmers even as -Wingate had sympathized with them, should stand where he stood now? In -his hand lay great issues. If he proved true, he would become, without -design or volition on his part, the sword of the irrigationists. The -question which he faced was whether or not he should be true to that -dream of a blossoming desert and to the teachings of Clayton. - -Harkness had assured him, with much vehemence, that there were "no -strings on him;" the cowboys had given him their votes because they -desired to testify thus to their admiration of his bravery and their -detestation of the conduct of Ben Davison. Yet Justin knew there were -"strings on him,"--influences, friendships, feelings, hopes and -desires, which he could nether forget nor ignore. No longing for place -or power could have moved him now that he had taken his stand, and -anything approaching the nature of a bribe would have filled him with -indignation. But these other things bade him pause and consider; they -even forced him to doubt. And with Justin, doubt weakened the very -foundations of the structure of belief which at first he had thought -so stable. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -SANDERS TELLS HIS STORY - - -The evening before the day set for the election of United States -senator Lemuel Fogg received this message from Sibyl Dudley: - -"Remember our agreement. I am prepared to do what I promised. I shall -not fail, and you must not." - -At a late hour that same evening a messenger handed Justin a note. It -was from Sibyl. She was waiting for him in the lobby, and had a -carriage in the street. - -"I want to take you home with me," she said, in her pleasantest -manner. - -"Is Lucy there?" was his eager question. - -"What a mind reader you are!" She laughed playfully. "She is there, -and if you are good I will permit you to have a look at her." - -She led the way to the carriage. - -"You may see her, after you have seen some one else who is there," she -supplemented, as the carriage moved away from the hotel. - -"Who may that be?" - -Justin did not desire to see any one else. - -"Wait!" she said, mysteriously. - -Justin thought of Mary, of Ben, and even of Doctor Clayton. But he -thought most of Lucy. But for his desire to see Lucy he would not have -gone with Mrs. Dudley. - -When he arrived and was shown into the parlor he beheld William -Sanders. He could not believe that he had been summoned to meet -Sanders, and glanced about the room to ascertain if it held any one -else. Sanders was alone. Sibyl, following hard on Justin's heels, came -in while he was greeting Sanders. The latter, having risen to take -Justin's hand, moved his jaws nervously. At home he would have chewed -a grass blade or a broom straw. His cunning little eyes glanced away -from Justin's, instead of meeting them squarely. - -"I have come upon the strangest piece of information!" said Sibyl, -speaking to Justin with simulated sympathy. "I could have brought you -the news, or told you about it as we drove up, but I wanted you to -hear it from Mr. Sanders himself. It is really the strangest and most -romantic thing I ever listened to. I simply couldn't believe it when -Mr. Sanders told it to me first, but when he explained fully I saw -that it must be true." - -"And it come about in a mighty curious way; that is, my bein' hyer -did. 'Twas through a fortune teller. I've gone to a good many of 'em -in my time, but this was the best one I ever found." - -Sanders had dropped back into his chair, where he sat limply, his -loose shabby garments contrasting strangely with the furnishings of -the room. He clicked his teeth together, with a chewing motion, when -he was not speaking, and looked at Justin with shifting gaze. He was -not easy in his unfamiliar surroundings, and his manner showed it. Now -and then he glanced at Sibyl, as if for help, as he proceeded with his -narrative. - -"I ain't been feelin' jist right toward Philip Davison, as you know, -and you an' me had some trouble one't; but you know I voted fer ye, er -I reckon you know it. Anyway, I did. Well, I come up to Denver not -long ago, and this fortune teller I spoke of told me all about that -trouble I had with Davison, and about how I was put out that time by -you, and everything. She was a clairvoy'nt; went into a trance an' -seen the whole thing, and a lot more that I can't tell you now, and -when she come out of the trance we had a long talk and she give me -some good advice. Charged me two dollars, but it was worth ten, and -I'd 'a' paid that ruther than missed it. And when Mrs. Dudley called -on her----" - -Sibyl affected a very clever confusion. - -"I suppose you will think me very foolish, Mr. Wingate, and we women -are foolish! I have always refused to believe in fortune tellers, but -a friend of mine who had visited this one heard such strange things -that----" - -"That she went, too," said Sanders, with an expression of -gratification, "and I reckon she'll be believin' in fortune tellin' -from this on." - -"Well, it was very strange," Sibyl admitted with apparent hesitation. -"The things she told me caused me to write to Mr. Sanders, and now he -is here to tell you what he knows." - -"And it's a sing'lar story. And not so sing'lar either, when you look -it up one side and down t'other. I'd 'a' told you all about it long -ago, but fer certain things that took place." - -Justin, thinking of Lucy and disappointed at not seeing her -immediately, had not listened with much attention at first, but now he -was becoming interested. It began to dawn on him that this story -concerned him. So he looked at Sanders more attentively, with a glance -now and then at Sibyl Dudley. He had never admired Mrs. Dudley and he -did not admire her now; recalling the things he knew and the things he -guessed about her and Clayton, he almost felt at times that he hated -her. She was a handsome woman, but even his ignorance discounted the -assumed value of rouge and fine raiment. He wondered some times that -Clayton could ever have cared for her. He was sure he never could have -done so; for, compared with Sibyl, Lucy Davison was as a modest violet -to a flaunting tiger lily. - -"I set out to ask Doc Clayton some questions about you, the first time -I come to his house. You'll remember that time, fer me and Fogg come -together. But Clayton made me mad, when he told me that lie about his -crooked arm; instid of answerin' me, he made fun of me, and I went -away without sayin' anything." - -He chewed energetically on this old memory. - -"I didn't come back fer a good while after that, you'll reck'lect; I -got land at Sumner, an' farmed there a spell. Finally I sold out, an' -thought I'd take another look at Paradise Valley. I'd been thinkin' -about it all that time, and allowin' I'd go back when I got ready. I -might have writ to you, but I wasn't any hand to write in them days; -and I hadn't got over bein' mad at Doc Clayton." - -Sibyl, turning her rings on her shapely fingers, was anxious that he -should reach the real point, but she withheld any manifestation of -impatience. In the school of experience she had learned to wait. -Justin was also anxious, and he had not learned so well how to conceal -it. But Sanders went on unheeding, stopping now and then to masticate -a fact before proceeding further. - -"When I come back, intendin' to tell you all I knowed, which I'd begun -to feel was due ye, I got into that quarrel with Davison about the -fence before I could; and then you and me had that trouble. After that -I wouldn't tell; and I wouldn't tell it now but fer certain things. -But I reckon you'd ought to know. I dunno whether you'll be pleased er -not when you do know; but I'm calculatin' that Davison won't be -pleased, and that suits me. I don't make any bones of sayin' that I -don't like Davison; but Davison is your paw!" - -After all this slow preliminary, the revelation came like a shot from -a rifle. Not realizing this, Sanders twisted round in his chair and -began to draw from his hip pocket a grimy memorandum book of ancient -appearance. Justin was too astonished to speak. He could hardly -believe that he had heard aright, and he was prepared to dispute the -assertion, for it seemed incredible. - -[Illustration: "Sanders twisted round in his chair and began to draw -from his pocket a grimy memorandum book"] - -"Do you mean that Mr. Davison is my father?" he cried. - -"That's jist what I mean!" - -Sanders chewed again, and putting the memorandum book on his knee -opened it carefully. Sibyl Dudley, though she had seen the book -before, came forward softly from her chair to look. Her dark eyes had -kindled. Justin stared at Sanders and the book. The shock of -astonishment was still on him. He did not know what to think or say. -Sanders appeared the least concerned of all. - -"That's jist what I mean, and hyer's the little book in which your -mother writ down the things I know about it; you can see it yerself, -and you needn't believe me. You was brought to that preacher, Mr. -Wingate, by me, and left there. I took you and your mother into my -wagon. She was too sick to walk even, and she died in it; and then, -not knowin' what to do with you, fer you was jist a baby, and I was -only a kid myself, I took you to the preacher. I had left this -mem'randum book behind, through a mistake; but I give him the Bible, -and some other things, and calc'lated to bring this to him. But I -didn't right away, and then I lost track of him." - -Justin was trembling now. Though still unable to grasp the full -meaning of this revelation, he saw that Sanders was recounting things -he knew. There was no deception. He took the book in his shaking -hands, when Sanders passed it to him. It was grimy and disreputable in -appearance, but if Sander's story were true it had been hallowed by -his mother's touch. - -"When I heard the name of Wingate the first time that I come to the -valley and stopped all night at Clayton's I was goin' to ask him all -about you and tell him what I knowed; but he made me mad, when he cut -me off that way, and I didn't. 'Tain't no good excuse fer not tellin', -I reckon, an' you may think I hadn't any better excuse later on, but -that's why I didn't, anyway. Davison's treatin' me the way he did and -that trouble I had with you made me keep my head shet till now. But -that fortune teller, when I seen her the second time, said fer me to -tell you the whole thing, and so I'm doin' it, though mebbe it won't -please you." - -Sander's tone was apologetic. - -Justin heard in amazed bewilderment. Philip Davison his father! The -thing was incredible, impossible. But he opened the memorandum book -with reverent fingers, as Sanders wandered on with his explanations -and excuses. This little diary at least was real. The first glance -showed him the familiar handwriting which he knew to be his mother's. -He knew every curve and turn of the letters penned in the little -Bible, which at that moment was in his trunk at the hotel. There she -had written: - -"Justin, my baby boy, is now six months old. May God bless and -preserve him and may he become a good man." - -Here was the same handwriting, a portion of it in pencil so worn in -places as to be almost illegible. Hardly hearing what Sanders was now -saying Justin began to read. The dates were far apart. Some of the -things set down had been written before Justin was born; others must -have been penciled shortly before her death. Many were unrelated and -told of trivial things. Others concerned her husband and her child. -The details were more complete in the later pencilled notes, where she -had sought to make a record for the benefit of her boy in the event of -her death, which she seemed to foresee or fear. There was sadness here -and tears and the story of a pitiful tragedy; and here also in full -were the names of her husband and her son. - -She was the wife of Philip Davison, and her son Justin was born a year -after her marriage. Davison was then a small farmer, with a few -cattle, living in a certain valley, which she named. Davison, as -Justin knew, had come from that valley to the valley of Paradise. -Davison's habit of occasional intoxication was known to her before her -marriage, as was also his violent outbursts of temper; but love had -told her the old lie, that she could save him from himself. The result -had been disaster. In a fit of drunken rage he had so abused her that -she had fled from him in the night with her child. A terrible storm -arose as she wandered through the foothills. But she had stumbled on, -crazed by fear and more dead than alive. How she lived through the -week that followed she declared in this yellowed writing that she did -not know, but she had lived. She was journeying toward the distant -railroad. Now and then some kind-hearted man gave her a seat in his -wagon, and now and then she found shelter and food in the home of some -lonely settler. She would not return to Davison, and she hoped he -believed she had died in the storm. - -The brief record ended in a blank, which had never been filled. -Sanders--his name was not mentioned by her--had taken her into his -prairie schooner--he was but a fatherless boy himself--and there she -had died, worn out by suffering and exhaustion. But her baby had -lived, and was now known as Justin Wingate. - -A deep sense of indignation burned in Justin's breast against Philip -Davison, as he read the pathetic story. Against Sanders he could not -be indignant, in spite of the wrong the man had done him by -withholding this information through all the years; for Sanders had -soothed the last moments of his mother, and Sanders' wagon had given -her the last shelter she had known. Justin's fingers shook, and in his -eyes there was a blinding dash of tears. - -Sanders was still drawling on, stopping occasionally to chew at an -unwilling sentence. It was an old story to him, and so had lost -interest. Sibyl was standing expectantly by, watching Justin with -solicitude for her plans. His feelings did not reach her. - -"So I am Philip Davison's son!" - -Justin drew a long breath. His voice was choked and the words sounded -hoarse and strange. - -"I reckon I ought to 'a' told you a good while ago," Sanders -apologized; "but I kinder felt that it would please Davison, and after -that trouble you an' me had I didn't want to tell it; and, so, I -didn't." - -His cunning gray eyes shone vindictively. - -"I don't mind sayin' to you that I wouldn't turn my hand over to save -Davison from the pit, if he is your father; he didn't do right by me, -an' you didn't do right by me. It won't please him to know that you're -his son, fer you're fightin' him teeth an' nail; and so I'm willin' to -tell it now." - -Sanders' ulterior motive was exposed. First and last hatred of Philip -Davison and of Justin had guided him. - -"It must be a pleasure to you to know who your father really is," said -Sibyl, sweetly. - -Justin regarded her steadily, without actually seeing her. His -faculties were turned inward. - -"Yes, that is true; I am glad to know who my father is. I have -wondered about it many times. But I never dreamed it could be Mr. -Davison. It doesn't seem possible now." - -Yet in his hands he held the unimpeachable record. - -Sanders rose, shuffling and awkward. - -"I'll turn the mem'randum over to you; I reckon it belongs by rights -more to you than to Davison, and I don't keer even to speak to him; -he's never done right by me." - -Justin aroused as Sanders moved toward the door. - -"Sanders," he said, "I'm obliged to you for this. I recognize this as -my mother's handwriting. You ought to have given it to me long ago, -but I'm glad to get it now. And I thank you from the bottom of my -heart for what you did for her. I shall never forget it." - -"Oh, 'twasn't nothin' at all," Sanders declared, glad to escape the -denunciation he had feared. - -"And I want you to tell me more about my mother," Justin urged; "what -she said when she came to you, and how she looked, and everything." - -Sanders sat down again, chewing the quid of reflection, and gave the -details Justin demanded, for they had held well in his tenacious -memory. Justin, listening with breathless interest, asked many -questions, while Sibyl sat by in silent attention and studied his -strong beardless face. He thanked Sanders again, when the story was -ended. - -Sanders appeared anxious to depart, now that he had performed his -mission, and Sibyl was glad to have him go. Justin remained in the -room. He was thinking of Lucy and desired to see her. - -"When I got on the track of that story and understood what it meant, I -felt it to be my duty to bring you and Mr. Sanders together and let -you hear it from his own lips," said Sibyl, regarding Justin -attentively. "And I told him to be sure to bring that diary, for I -knew you would want to see it and would prize it highly." - -It was in Justin's pocket, but he took it out again, still handling it -reverently. - -"I thank you for that, Mrs. Dudley," he said with deep sincerity. "The -whole thing is so new, so unexpected, that I am not yet able to adjust -myself to it; but it was a kindness on your part, and this book I -shall hold beyond price." - -He studied again the yellowed writing. - -"It is beyond price, for my mother wrote it!" - -He put the book away and looked at Sibyl. - -"The way I chanced to hear of the story was very queer," Sibyl -explained. "And the way it has turned out justifies the superstitious -spasm which took me to that fortune teller. Sanders was coming out of -her room as I went in. I had seen him in Paradise Valley, and so -recognized him, though he did not notice me. When I passed in I spoke -to the woman about him, telling her that I knew him; and then she gave -me the story she had drawn from him, or which in a confidential moment -he had told her. I saw the value of it to you, if true. I had an -interview with him for the purpose of verifying it; and then I -arranged this meeting, for I thought you ought to receive it straight -from him." - -Justin thanked her again. - -"I think I should like to see Lucy now," he said, "if you have no -objection." - -Sibyl seemed embarrassed, as she answered: - -"I'm sorry to have to say that the servants inform me that she has -gone out with Mary to spend the night with a friend in another part of -the city. I thought she would be here, and I was sure you would want -to have a talk with her after that." - -Justin was disappointed. - -"I might as well be going then. It is late; too late I suppose to call -on her at the place where she is stopping. I will see her to-morrow -evening." - -He got out of his chair unsteadily. His emotions had been touched so -strongly that he felt exhausted, though he had not realized it until -he arose. Then he took his hat and went out, after again thanking -Sibyl for her kindness. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -IN THE CRUCIBLE - - -In his room at the hotel, Justin re-read that little memorandum book -many times that night, and tried to accommodate his mind to its new -environment. It was a difficult task. But at last the harshness he had -felt toward Philip Davison went out of his soul. By degrees the -submerged longing for a father's love began to make itself felt. -Philip Davison was his father; he did not doubt it now, though it -seemed so strange. He had known from Ben and Lucy that Philip Davison -had married twice. Ben was the child of the first marriage, and he the -child of the second; and Ben was his half brother! - -He saw resemblances now that he had never thought of. Looking at his -reflection in the mirror, he beheld blue eyes like those of Philip -Davison. The forehead, the nose, the length of body and limb, were -all, when thus studied, reminders of Philip Davison. Davison was -florid of face, and Justin would probably be florid of face when he -grew older, for his complexion was now of that type. Davison's face -was seamed with the marks of petulance and many outbursts of bad -temper. Justin did not see any of those marks in his own smooth -youthful countenance, but he knew that if he gave way to the fits of -rage that swept over him at times with almost uncontrollable force, -similar marks might set there the seal of their disapproval. - -He was sure, however, that in many ways he was not like Philip -Davison, even though he had as a boy so admired Davison; and he was -glad to believe that these better traits he inherited from his mother. -Though he did not know it, from his mother he had inherited the iron -will which was manifesting itself. It had manifested itself in her -when she refused to turn back to the home from which she had fled, but -traveled on, weak and faint, until death claimed her. Her body had -broken, but her will had stood firm to the last; and it had shown -itself up to the end in her resolute manner of putting down in that -little book her story for the benefit of the child she hoped would -live after she had failed and passed on. To Ben, the child of the -first marriage, had descended Philip Davison's weaknesses and from his -mother had come the slight stature and the pale face. Except in his -mental characteristics Ben resembled his father less than Justin did. - -Justin did not sleep that night. He knew that Philip Davison was in -town, and he began to long to see him. This desire rose by and by as a -swelling tide, bearing with it the years' suppressed longing for a -father's love. As a child Justin had felt that inexpressible longing. -It had moved within him when Clayton came first to the preacher's -house and he had pressed closely against Clayton's unresponsive knees -while exhibiting the little Bible in which his mother had written. -Clayton had afterward satisfied that longing in a measure; but only -the knowledge that the touch of the hand laid on him was really the -touch of the hand of his own father could ever satisfy it fully. - -So, through the years, that desire had yearned. Justin felt it again -now, deeper than hunger, more anguishing than thirst. And it was not -lessened by the feeling that Philip Davison might not wish to satisfy -it, and perhaps could not. For circumstances stood now like a wall -between this father and son; circumstances which were not the choice -of either, any more than were the intuitions and the motives, selfish -or otherwise, which led them. They had traveled by different paths, -and they stood apart. Nevertheless, the yearning was there, deep, -pathetic, and it seemed that it would never be appeased. Justin forgot -that white indignation that at first had burned with furnace heat -against Philip Davison. Love took its place. Philip Davison was his -father! - -As this desire gained in strength Justin made an effort to see his -father. He decided that he would put that little diary into his -father's hands and be guided by the result. He surely could trust the -better impulses of his own father! But he failed to find Davison. Fogg -was absent, probably in attendance upon some all-night caucus, and -Fogg was the only man likely to know where Davison could be found. - -In the morning Justin discovered that Davison was temporarily absent, -possibly out of town, but was expected at any moment. Fogg told him -this, and observed that Justin showed a flushed, anxious face and had -passed a sleepless night. Thereupon, remembering the promise of Sibyl -Dudley, Fogg's courage rose. He dared not question Justin, and Justin -was non-committal. This new knowledge Justin wished to share first of -all with his father. - -In his room a brief note was brought to him. Lucy Davison was in the -ladies' parlor, and he went down to see her. She was seated by one of -the windows that overlooked the noisy street. When she arose to meet -him he saw that Sibyl had told her everything. There was sympathy and -glad happiness, mingled with anxiety, in her manner. Her emotions -tinted her cheeks and shadowed her brown eyes. Being a man, Justin did -not note how she was dressed, except that it was very becomingly. -Being a woman, she not only knew that she was entirely presentable -herself, but saw every detail of his garb, from his well-polished -shoes to the set of his collar. And she knew that he was clean and -handsome. He had never questioned that she was the most beautiful -woman, as to him she had been the most beautiful girl, in the world. -Mary Jasper's rose-leaf complexion and midnight hair were juvenile and -inane beside the glory of Lucy Davison's maturing womanhood. - -"I am so glad, Justin, for you!" she said, and gave him her hands -without reserve. - -"And I am glad!" His voice choked, as he led her back to the window, -where the rumble of the street noises stilled other sounds. "I am -glad; though at first I couldn't believe it, for it seemed so -improbable. But I'm sure now it is true." - -She looked at him with fond admiration; at the straight firm features, -at the handsome head with its crown of dark hair, at the tall muscular -form, and into the clear blue eyes. And the blue eyes looked into the -brown with love in their glance. - -"And you're almost related to me," she said, sympathetically, "for -you're Ben's half-brother!" - -He smiled at her, and tried to assume a cheerful, even a jovial tone. - -"I had thought of that, and of what a good thing it is that we're not -wholly related!" - -"Let me see! What is our relationship now?" - -"You are my sweetheart now, and will be my wife some day!" - -She flushed attractively. - -"I didn't mean that. Let me see--Ben's mother and my mother were -sisters. So Ben and I are cousins." - -"And I am Ben's half-brother, so you and I are half-cousins." - -He tried to speak in playful jest. - -"No, we're not related at all!" - -"Then we shall have to become related, at an early day." - -"Uncle Philip is my uncle by marriage, but not my blood uncle. I am a -cousin to Ben through my mother and his mother, who were sisters. So -if I have no blood relationship with Uncle Philip, your father, I have -none with you, for your mother was not related to me in any way." - -"And I say again I am glad of it." He retained his jesting tone, -though his mood was serious. "But if you marry me you are going to -marry bad luck, for it seems that my name is Davison. You know the -rhyme: - - "'To change the name and not the letter, - Is to change for worse and not for better.'" - -"You insist on joking about it. You know that Davison was not my -father's name, but only the name I took when Uncle Philip adopted me." - -"And that will break the bad luck spell!" - -"Don't you think it will?" - -"I think it will; I know it will!" he declared. - -"I came to see you about something, as well as to congratulate you and -sympathize with you." - -"I tried to see you last night and failed." - -"Yes, I know. I heard about it this morning. I wish I could have seen -you last night, but it is as well this morning. What I want to ask you -is if you intend to vote against the cattlemen to-day?" - -The cheery light died out of his eyes. - -"I have thought it over, and have talked with Mrs. Dudley, and it -seems to me it is your duty to consider the matter very carefully now -that you know your relationship to Uncle Philip." - -A conservative by nature, and unconsciously influenced by the -atmosphere of the Davison home, Lucy Davison had begun to fear that -Justin was in the wrong. From that there was but a step to the -conclusion that it was her duty to tell him so. She did not dream that -she was but a pawn in the game which was being played by Sibyl Dudley. - -Justin looked into the earnest brown eyes, and his voice was grave. - -"If any one in the world could make me vote against my opinion it -would be you. I'm not going to argue with you, but let me say just -this. If I vote with the cattlemen, or refuse to vote at all, it will -place me in the position of sustaining them in a rebellious defiance -of the national government, in addition to upholding the unsheltered -range, a question on which perhaps we could not agree. But the fences -which they maintain on government lands are so clearly illegal that -the government has in some instances ordered them down. The cattlemen -hope by sending a senator to Washington to have that order rescinded -and the entire matter dropped. They have fenced untaken public lands, -and lands which settlers occupy, or wish to occupy, and they want to -continue this without interruption from Washington." - -"You said you didn't intend to argue!" - -"I do not intend to argue. I'm simply going to ask if you think I -would be justified in using my vote, or withholding it, to continue a -practice that is in defiance of the orders of the land department, -even to please my own father?" - -"That order is not, as I understand, a legal enactment, and it might -be changed," she urged. - -"It will be changed, no doubt, if the cattlemen win; but should it be -changed, or withdrawn?" - -"It seems to me that the settlers are doing well enough, and those -fences aren't injuring anybody." - -He was silent a moment, thinking. - -"I want to please your Uncle Philip--my father--and I want to please -you. I'll admit that I have myself had some doubts on this question -lately, serious doubts. Yet I cannot make myself think that I have not -been in the right from the first. If I thought I was wrong I would -change in a minute without regard to the consequences." - -"It wouldn't be right for me to urge you to vote against your -conscience," she admitted, touched by his fine sense of honor. "Only, -as I've tried to think it over and get at the right of it, it has -seemed to me that there are, must be, two sides to the question. Every -question has two sides, you know." - -"Yes; that is so." - -She went on, not sure of her ground, nor altogether certain of -herself; yet feeling that this was a crucial moment and that every -argument ought to be duly weighed and considered. - -"You won't feel hurt if I remind you that you are inexperienced? New -light may come to you, so that the opinions you now hold you may not -hold a year from now." - -"That is true; but so long as I do hold them I must be honest about -it." - -"It is the opinion of Uncle Philip that this annoyance of the settlers -cannot last. He says there are only a few places where they can farm -successfully. But in the meantime, while they are trying every place, -they are making a vast amount of trouble, by thus spreading all over -the country. You know, yourself, that some of them are taking land -where water can never be got to it. The immediate result will be, -Uncle Philip says, that the ranchmen will be almost ruined, by being -forced to surrender land to them that can never be fit for anything -but a cattle range. The settlers will find out by and by that the land -cannot be farmed; but while they are finding it out, and bringing loss -to themselves, they will bring the downfall of the cattlemen." - -"I have thought of all these things," he said. - -He looked at her earnestly. He was troubled. - -"Lucy, I wish I only knew what I ought to do in this crisis! I must -face it and do something. I have looked for your Uncle Philip, and -intend to look for him again, and shall try to have a talk with him. -He is my father, and when he knows that he is, and I ask him to advise -me as a father would advise a son----." He stopped, in hesitation. -"Anyway, whatever I do--whatever I do--remember that I love you!" - -As soon as she was gone, he began another search for his father, -driven by the feeling that he must explain fully to Davison his views -and motives, as well as hear Davison's arguments and opinions, and so -perhaps be able to stand erect in Philip Davison's estimation, as well -as in his own. This was an anxious, even a wild desire, and it pressed -him hard. - -Fogg, scenting a reconciliation, sent a messenger in hurried search of -Davison. At the hotel, and at the state house, the lobbies were -overflowing. Men began to come to. Justin not singly but in platoons. -Somehow the word had gone round that he was weakening. But he was not -ready to talk. To friends and enemies alike he was non-committal. He -wanted to see his father; he wanted to place in his hands that -memorandum book, and get an acknowledgment of their relationship. The -interminable buzz of the anxious and excited politicians struck -against deaf ears. - -Philip Davison was out of town. - -Fogg, with telegraph and telephone, was wildly trying to reach him. -Sibyl Dudley had come to the state house in shivering expectancy. The -jarring hum of the political machine rose ever higher and higher, yet -Justin gave no indication of a changed or changing purpose. - -The ordeal through which he had passed since coming to Denver had -taught him how to keep silent amid the maddest tumult. At first he had -sought to justify whatever course he intended to pursue, only to find -his statements snapped up, distorted, spread abroad with amendments he -had never thought of, and so mutilated that often even he could not -recognize the mangled fragments. So, having learned his lesson well, -he kept still. Other men could do the talking. To the men who besieged -him he had "nothing to say." Until he saw Philip Davison and placed -that diary in his hands he felt that he could have nothing to say. -Even then he might act without saying anything. From time to time he -observed Fogg watching him covertly. - -While he waited, senate and house convened and began to vote for the -senatorial candidates. Fogg went into the senate chamber, after -speaking to a member of the lower house. Justin, whose name was far -down on the rolls, remained in the lobby until a sergeant-at-arms came -summoning members of the house to vote. Then he entered. When he -dropped heavily into his seat he was greeted by suppressed cheering -and a buzz of anxious and excited comment. These things did not move -him; what moved him was a mental view of his father's face, and that -inner tide of feeling demanding the satisfaction of a father's love. - -Suddenly he recalled Fogg's covert and anxious looks, and like a flash -came the question: Could this whole thing be but a plot to bewilder -him and cause him to vote with the ranchmen, or not at all? He knew -that Lucy would not deceive him, but she might herself be deceived. He -could not doubt that record in the handwriting of his mother, but -after all the reference might be to another Philip Davison. His nerves -tingled and his brain reeled under the influence of this startling -suggestion. - -While thus bewildered, his name was called. He half rose, staggering -to his feet, hardly knowing what his physical actions were. But his -mind began to clear. Clayton's face, the dream of Peter Wingate, and -that picture of the unsheltered range, rose before him; again he saw -the illegal fences; again starving cattle looked at him with hungry -eyes, and their piteous moans were borne to him on the breath of the -freezing wind. Once more he was the thrall of the past. His courage -stiffened, the firm will was firm again. He felt that there was but -one rock on which he could set his trembling feet, and that was the -rock of righteousness. If in this crucial moment he failed to stand -for that which in his innermost soul he knew to be right, the -self-respect which had nurtured his sturdy young manhood would be -gone. His face whitened and his hand shook; but his voice was firm, -when he announced his vote. It rang with clear decision through the -silence that had fallen on the house. - -Sibyl Dudley had lost. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -FATHER AND SON - - -Philip Davison saw Lucy before she returned to Paradise Valley and -learned from her the strange story which had been told by William -Sanders. From Fogg and others he had already heard how Justin had -voted. And the discovery that even after Justin had been informed of -this relationship he had voted against the cattlemen hardened his -heart. He refused to see Justin now, and went back to Paradise Valley -angry and uncomfortable. There he sought out Sanders and obtained the -story direct from him. - -After his talk with Sanders, a talk in which Sanders revealed to the -full the bitterness and vindictiveness of his narrow mind, Philip -Davison shut himself up in his room at the ranch house, where he would -not see any one, and through the greater part of the night sat -reviewing the past, while he smoked many cigars. The drinking habit -which had been the curse of his earlier years he had conquered. Since -the night in which his wife had fled never to return, he had not set -liquor to his lips; and Ben's growing habits of intoxication threw him -continually into a rage. Only that morning, encountering Clem -Arkwright and Ben together in the town and seeing that both had been -drinking, he had cursed Arkwright to his face, and with threats and -warnings had ordered Ben home. That Ben had not obeyed did not make -Philip Davison's cup the sweeter that night. - -The prosaic accuracy of the details of the story told by Sanders, with -what he knew himself, convinced Davison of its truth, in spite of his -previous belief that the cloud-burst which came shortly after his wife -had fled from home had engulfed and slain both her and her child. His -belief of her death had been based on the fact that nearly a year -after her disappearance the unidentified bodies of a woman and child -had been found in the foothills; and in a little, remote cemetery, -where these bodies rested, a simple slab held the names of Esther and -Justin Davison. - -Davison recalled now that it was the name, more than anything else, -that had induced him to give Justin employment on the ranch. The name -of Justin and the memories it evoked had touched some hidden tendril -of his heart, and had made him kind to Justin at times when but for -that he might have been otherwise. As often as he had felt inclined to -turn upon Justin in hot anger that name had softened his wrath. He had -never a thought that Justin was his son; yet the name had won for -Justin a warmer place in his regard than Justin could have won by his -own merits. - -As Davison sat thus in the shadowed memories of the past, there came -to him a stirring of natural affection. But, whenever he turned to -what he considered Justin's dastardly betrayal of the ranch interests, -this vanished. To combat it there was, too, a long-smoldering feeling -against the woman who had deserted him, and who by so doing had -revealed to the world his drunken rage and cruelty. That desertion he -had never been quite able to forgive. For years he had tried not to -think of her; but that night her memory rose strong and buoyant. He -knew he had wronged her deeply, and had outraged her feelings cruelly. -Perhaps that was at bottom why this long-smoldering recollection of -her aroused his smothered anger. - -By degrees, as he thought over the past, Davison began to resent what -seemed an injury done him. It was as if fate had preserved this boy -through all the years to avenge the wrongs of the mother. His own son -had risen to oppose him, to thwart his desires, to smite him with -mailed fist. And he had helped unwittingly to fit fighting armor to -the stalwart shoulders of this son; for it was through his position on -the ranch, as the companion and friend of the cowboys, that Justin had -arrived at that condition of comradeship with them which had really -given him his present place. Davison felt that Ben should have held -that position--Ben, who had the ranch interests at heart, and would -have voted right. Ben was disobedient, wild, intractable, but Ben -would have voted right! Davison loved Ben. Justin seemed still an -outsider, an intruder. And the feeble stir of natural affection passed -away. - -Justin remained in Denver through the remainder of the legislative -session and cast his vote with the agriculturists on a number of -questions. He wrote to Lucy frequently, but she did not re-visit -Denver, so he did not see her again until his return to Paradise -Valley. In her letters she acquainted him fully with the fact that -Philip Davison did not feel kindly toward him. Justin wrote a letter -also to Davison, but it was not answered. He did not again see Sibyl -Dudley, nor Mary Jasper. And Fogg apparently had been permanently -alienated. - -When Justin came home, and it was known at the ranch that he was at -Clayton's, Philip Davison sent for him. Justin obeyed the summons with -anxious hesitation, and took the little memorandum book with him, and -also his mother's Bible. He had not sent the diary to Davison with the -letter as proof of their relationship, and he was resolved not to part -with it now. Davison might examine it as much as he liked, but he -should not keep it, nor should he destroy it. - -Davison received Justin in the upper room where he had sat that night -thinking of the past. His bearded face was flushed and his manner was -constrained. Justin had a sense of confusion, as he stood face to face -with this man whom he now knew to be his father. It seemed an -unnatural situation. Yet in his heart was still that longing for a -father's recognition and love. He had not put off the clothing he had -worn while in the city; he might not do so at all, as he did not -intend to become again a cowboy or work on a ranch. That phase of his -life was past. Philip Davison never wore cowboy clothing, except when -engaged in actual work on the range or at the branding pens. Yet he -was not dressed at his best, as he now received his son; and having -come in from a long ride, his black coat was still covered with dust. - -The blue eyes of the father and of the son met. Justin was as tall, -and his features much resembled those of his father. But while one -face was beardless, and young and strong, the other was bearded and -prematurely aged. In Davison's reddish beard, which was worn full and -long, were many strands of white, and whitening locks showed in his -thick dark hair. The blue eyes were heavy, and the fleshy pads beneath -them seemed to have increased in fullness and size. Justin even -fancied there were new lines in the seamed and florid face. Justin's -face was flushed and his swelling heart ached, as he stood before his -father. - -Davison waved him to a chair without extending his hand in greeting, -and Justin sat down. Then Davison took a seat and looked at him across -the intervening distance as if he would read there the truth or -falsity of Sanders' story. Apparently he was satisfied. - -"I have had a talk with Sanders," he began, speaking slowly and with -an effort. "You have a memorandum book which I should like to see." - -Justin produced it with fumbling fingers. Philip Davison took it -without apparent emotion, and opening it looked it through. Having -done so he closed it and passed it back. In the same way he examined -the Bible which Justin gave him. - -"You are my son; I haven't seen any of your mother's handwriting for a -long time, but I recognize it readily. The story told in that diary -has been naturally colored by her feelings. I hope I am not quite as -black as she has painted me. But all that is past, and it is not my -intention to talk about it now. The point is, that you are my son. -Since hearing about this matter I have been thinking over our -relationship and asking myself what I ought to do. As my son, when I -die I shall see that you are not unprovided for; but the bulk of my -property will go to Ben, with something for Lucy. I wasn't always as -prosperous as I am now; I've had to fight for what I've got, and I -still have to fight to keep it. I have done and am doing this for Ben. -Your sympathies have been from the first with those who are my -enemies, and in the legislature you voted with them from beginning to -end. You were elected chiefly by ranch votes, and you betrayed all of -the ranch interests. The thing is done now, and can't be undone; yet, -after all my struggles, it is not pleasant to know that the hand of my -own son did this thing." - -He settled heavily back in his chair. - -"So the most of what I have will go to Ben. He is wild, but he will -settle down; I was wild in my youth. You are like your mother. She was -an obstinate angel with an uncomfortable conscience, and for some men -such a woman is an unpleasant thing to live with." - -Justin felt a swelling of indignation at this mention of his mother. - -"You have all of her obstinacy and general wrong-headedness on matters -which don't concern you. I am willing to say to you frankly, that -after a brief experience with her I ceased to desire to live with her; -but even yet I do not think she had any good reason to leave me as she -did. It took her to her death, and in the long run has made you pretty -much what you are. So I do not see that I can blame you in all things, -but I do blame you for the pig-headed obstinacy and foolishness you -showed in Denver. You had a great opportunity to befriend those who -had befriended you and would have helped you, and you wilfully, even -maliciously, threw it away." - -In spite of his feelings Justin maintained a discreet silence. His -longing for something more than a bare recognition of his relationship -he saw was not to be gratified. He had returned the diary and the -Bible to his pocket, where he felt them close against his heart. They -seemed akin to an actual memory of his mother, and could not be taken -from him, whatever happened. Their pressure was almost as the touch of -his mother's warm hand on his bosom. - -"If you like," Davison went on, "you may transfer yourself to this -house and remain here, doing what work on the ranch you please. Some -of the cowboys have been dismissed, and others will be soon. But for -this fact that you are my son I should forbid you to come upon the -place. There is going to be a change in the business, too; your votes -at Denver helped to make that necessary, and perhaps in that change -you may find work more congenial to you than ranch work. Think it -over. I want to do what is right by you. I will see that you have -employment if you want it, and in my will I shall see that you are not -wholly unprovided for. That is all." - -He arose, and Justin stood up in flushed confusion, having said not a -word either in justification of himself or his mother. He had no words -now, as he passed from the room and from the house, though if he could -have voiced anything it would have been the disappointment that -murmured in his heart. - -With the memory of that interview oppressing him, Justin questioned -whether he had not after all been stubborn, pig-headed, and cruel. He -reflected that perhaps he had been, even though he had sought to do -only that which was right. His mother, he had been told, possessed an -"uncomfortable conscience," and he did not doubt he had one himself. -It could not be wrong to do right, of course, but at times it seemed -very inexpedient. Should a man bend himself to expediency? If he had -done so, his father would have received him doubtless with warm words, -instead of that biting chill which frosted the very glance of the -sunshine. - -Standing in the yard oppressed and tortured by doubt, Justin saw Lucy -Davison coming toward him from the direction of the little grove. The -cottonwoods were still bare, but that she had visited them seemed a -good omen, and he moved toward her. - -Her brown eyes smiled as they met his. She was temptingly beautiful; a -mature woman now, with the beauty of a fragrant flower. Her clear -complexion had not changed since her girlhood, and the tint which -emotion gave to her cheeks was as the soft blush of the ripening -peach. She was more beautiful than when a girl; all the angularities -of girlhood were gone; and when from his greater height Justin looked -down on her rounded throat and swelling bosom, and caught that kindly -light in her eyes, he forgot the chill of the room from which he had -come and the cold calm of his father's speech. - -"I am afraid you are a bad, bad boy," she said, with a touch of -sympathy, as she put her hand on his arm, "but I hope Uncle Philip -hasn't been saying terrible things to you. You have been to see him, I -know?" - -"Yes, I have been to see him, and the interview wasn't wholly -pleasant. Perhaps I have been the bad boy you suggest, and he may be -justified; I'm sure I don't know. All I know is I tried to do what was -right, and appear to have made a mix of it." - -"Come in and we will talk it over. Uncle Philip told me this morning -that you may come and go all you want to, or even make your home here -now. That is pleasant news, anyway, isn't it?" - -Her pleasant manner softened the recollection of that painful -interview with Philip Davison. So Justin passed from an unpleasant -interview to one so pleasant that it almost took the bitterness and -the sting out of the first. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -CHANGING EVENTS - - -Among those who were first to welcome Justin on his return to Paradise -Valley were Steve and Pearl Harkness. They came to Clayton's with -their little daughter, of whom they were proud. They made their call -in the evening. Harkness was clad in new brown over-alls and jacket of -the same material, and looked too big for them. Mrs. Harkness rustled -in a dress of real China silk, whose shade of red made her round red -face seem even hotter and redder than it was, Helen was fluffy in -white skirts that stood out like those of a ballet dancer. Clayton in -his dusty snuff-colored clothing, and Justin in his business suit of -checked gray were insignificant figures compared with Pearl Harkness -and her daughter. - -"Now, Helen, what was it I told you to do?" said Pearl, lifting a -plump round finger and shaking it at Helen, as soon as Harkness had -finished his boisterous greetings. - -Helen hesitated, and Pearl catching her up deposited her in Justin's -lap. - -"Now, what was it I told you to do?" - -Then Helen remembered. Putting her chubby arms about Justin's neck and -leaning hard on his breast, while she squeezed to the utmost of her -strength, she said: - -"I love you, Justin; I love you!" - -Justin clasped her tightly in his strong arms. - -"I love you, too!" he declared, and kissed her. - -Standing by while he held Helen thus, Pearl, with a touch that was -almost motherly, pushed the clustering dark locks back from his -forehead, revealing the scar of a burn. She gave it a little love pat. - -"You won't mind?" she said, and to Justin's surprise her voice choked -with a sudden rush of tears. "You seem almost like my own boy, Justin. -You weren't much more than a boy, you know, when you first came to the -ranch; and I can't help remembering how you got that scar. I wanted to -see if it had gone away any." - -Harkness coughed suspiciously. - -"If you ever git married, and your wife pulls out so much of your hair -that you're bald-headed, that scar's goin' to show," he said. - -Pearl caught Helen out of Justin's lap, with sudden agitation. - -"Helen, you're getting dirt all over Justin's nice new clothes!" With -bare plump hand she brushed away some infinitesimal specks which -Helen's shoes had left. "I ought to have looked at her shoes before I -put her up there! Why didn't you tell me to, Steve? Helen, you'll -never be a lady, unless you keep your shoes clean." - -"All them heroes and hero-wines of Pearl's keeps their shoes ferever -spick an' span an' shinin'," said Harkness. "People always do, you'll -notice, in books; at least them she reads about do. She was readin' a -book yisterday, and I looked at the picture of the hero. He had boots -on that come to his thighs, and they'd jist been blacked. And the -women in them books wear more fine clothes than you could find in a -milliner's shop." - -"Clothes aren't found in a milliner's shop, Steve!" Pearl corrected, -as she settled Helen firmly on her feet and proceeded to spread out -the fluffy white skirts. "Justin will think you don't know anything." - -Helen, escaping from her mother's clutches, and apparently glad to -escape, made straight for Harkness, who caught her up, planted on her -cheek a resounding kiss, and then plumped her down astride of one big -knee. Pleased by this preference, his face was radiant. - -"Justin," his eyes shone with enthusiasm and delight, "there ain't -anything like bein' married. Try it. I used to think I was havin' fun, -cuttin' round skittish and wild like a loose steer on the range; this -ain't fun, mebbe, it's comfort." - -"From what I hear, Justin intends to try it one of these days," said -Pearl, with a questioning look. "Don't you think he is, Doctor -Clayton? You're hearing things like that, aren't you?" - -Clayton laughed, and glanced at Justin's flushing face. - -"I can't say what his intentions are, but if they concern a certain -young lady I could name, they have my hearty approval." - -"Yet it does seem almost like marrying relatives," said Pearl. "I -can't get used to that yet. I had a cousin that married another -cousin; and their children--well, you just ought to see their -children!" - -"Monkeys, air they?" said Harkness. - -"Monkeys! Why, Steve, they're plum fools! They don't know enough to -come into the house when it rains." - -"This would be a good country fer 'em to live in, then; don't rain -here more'n one't in a year, and I reckon they could strain their -intellects enough to git a move on 'em that often." - -He looked at Justin. - -"Speakin' of this country and rain, we're reckonin', Pearl and me, -that we'll take up farmin', fer a change; think it might be healthy -fer our pocket book. I've had notice from Davison to quit, the first -of the month. I told him I'd quit to-morrow, if it suited him and he -had a man to put in my place; that if he didn't think I was earnin' -all the good money I got and a little bit more, I did, and I stood -ready to go on short notice, or without any notice at all. I've knowed -it was comin' this good while, and I've been gittin' ready fer it. -Davison and Fogg air sellin' off a good many cattle. The rest they're -goin' to throw onto the mesa, an' water at the water holes of the -Purgatoire; the gover'ment is orderin' down the fences, and it would -take an army of cowboys to hold the cattle off the crops, with them -fences gone." - -Clayton was interested. - -"Do you think of farming here in the valley?" he asked. - -"Yes, we're figgerin' on buyin' Simpson's place; it's well up toward -the head of the ditch, and if any water comes we're reckonin' that -will give us a whack at it. Simpson's made me an offer to sell. I'm -jist waitin' to see what's goin' to turn up here in the ditch line." - -"I tell him he'll wait round till it's too late," said Pearl. "Fogg -will buy that land before he knows it; he's buying up farms -everywhere, for himself and Davison." - -She turned to Justin with a smile. - -"I've been wondering if you wouldn't get married and settle down to -farming, too; you never liked ranching." - -Pearl was as much of a match-maker as any dowager of her favorite -novels. - -"Pearl won't never be satisfied until that weddin' comes off," said -Harkness. "These women air bound to have a weddin' happenin' about -one't in so often, er they ain't happy; if it can't be their own -weddin', another woman's will do. The weddin's of a neighborhood air -what keeps the old maids alive, I reckon; they live ferever, ye know, -drawin' happiness out of other women's marriages." - -"I'm not an old maid!" Pearl asserted with spirit. - -"No; I happened along!" - -Before Mr. and Mrs. Harkness departed that evening, Dicky Carroll, -galloping by, stopped for a few moments. - -"I've got a job over at Borden's," he announced to Harkness. "He'll be -a better man to git along with than Davison, anyway; so I'm kinder -glad to go. And if I stay round hyer longer I'll be tempted to shoot -Ben full of handsome little holes; he's been meaner than a polecat to -me ever sense that election." - -Then he shook hands with Justin and Clayton, who had come out into the -yard. The moonlight revealed him in full cowboy attire, with his rope -coiled at the saddle bow. - -"They're sayin', Justin, that you helped to bu'st the cattle bizness -round hyer. I ain't believin' it; but if you did, what's the dif? -There'll be plenty of ranches fer as long a time as I'm able to -straddle a pony and sling a rope, ranches back where the farmers can't -go. When I can't ride a horse any longer I'll quit cow-punchin' and go -to playin' gentleman like Ben. From the fine clothes he wears I judge -there's money in it. Well, so long; luck to all of you!" - -Fogg did not vary from his custom, when he visited Paradise Valley. He -came over to Clayton's, and sat in the little study, in the chair he -loved, which, though big, was now almost too small for him. He put his -fat hands on the arms of the chair, stretched out his fat legs, and -with his watch chain shining like a golden snake across his big -stomach, talked as amiably and laughed as loudly as ever. - -Lemuel Fogg believed that it is better to bend before the storm than -to be broken by it. The government at Washington had heard from the -farming settlers and irrigationists of the West. Many states had -spoken that winter, and their voice had been as one. The agricultural -element, feeble and scorned at first, was becoming a power. Congress, -heeding its voice, was beginning to devise ways and means by which -vast areas of public land hitherto thought fit only for grazing, if -for that, could be watered by irrigation. Even the East, long hostile -because it did not want more rich Western lands opened to compete with -Eastern agriculture, held modified opinions. The order of the land -department for the removal of the illegal fences on the public domain -was to be enforced, and the fences had begun to come down. Seeing the -hand of fate, Fogg and Davison had sold some of their cattle, were -contracting their grazing area, and had begun to take thought of other -things. - -"We'll go with the tide," said Fogg, whom Davison followed in most -things pertaining to matters of business, for Fogg's success had been -phenomenal. "What do we care whether it's cattle or something else, if -we can get money out of it? Never buck against the government; it's -too strong, and you'll get into trouble. We'll turn farmer; we'll -irrigate." - -So Fogg and Davison were increasing their already considerable -holdings of land in Paradise Valley, by purchases from settlers and -from the mortgage companies. It was reported that in some places -ranchmen secured land by inducing their cowboys to settle on -quarter-sections and so obtain title from the government. Fogg and -Davison would not do that. Not because they were too scrupulous, but -because they were too wise. It would be an unpleasant thing to be -haled into court for land swindling by the government agents who were -ordering down the fences. - -While thus securing the land, they had quietly obtained a controlling -interest in the irrigating canal which the settlers had constructed. -It was owned by a stock company; and before the farmers knew what was -occurring it was to all intents and purposes in the possession of -Davison and Fogg. - -"It begins to look as though you were right, Justin, and that I was -wrong, up there in Denver," said Fogg, sliding his fingers along his -watch chain and beaming on Justin. "I couldn't see it then, but it -really looks it; anyway, your side seems to be winning out, and I -didn't think it could." - -"I thought I was right," Justin declared, with vigorous -aggressiveness. - -"Yes, I know you did; but I thought you was wrong, and of course I had -to oppose you. But, anyway, it's all right now; we're going to make it -all right. Some few of the farmers are kicking because Davison and I -have got control of the ditch, but they'll live to bless the day the -thing happened. We'll strengthen their dam and enlarge the canal and -laterals and furnish plenty of water. Where they watered ten acres -we'll water hundreds. We've got the money to do it with, and they -hadn't; that's the difference." - -His shining watch chain rose and fell on his heaving stomach, as he -talked. Looking at it, Justin could almost fancy it had been wrought -of that gold which Fogg, with heavy but nimble fingers, gathered from -even the most unpromising places. Fogg seemed almost a Midas. - -Fogg did not take his departure before midnight, but when he went he -was in a very good humor with himself and all the world. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -IN PARADISE VALLEY - - -Coming one forenoon from the kitchen, where she had been instructing -the new cook installed in the position Pearl had held so long, Lucy -observed Justin walking in a dejected manner down the trail that led -to Clayton's, and saw that he had been in conversation with Philip -Davison. She knew what that conversation had been about, and when -Davison came into the house she followed him up to his room. There was -a heightened color in her cheeks, as she stood before her guardian. He -looked up, a frown on his florid face. - -"What is it?" he asked almost gruffly; but she was not to be put down. - -"You won't mind telling me what you said to Justin awhile ago?" - -She slid into a chair, and sat up very straight and stiff. - -"You sent him to me, I suppose?" - -"I didn't, but I have known he meant to speak to you." - -"He wants to marry you!" - -"That isn't news to me." - -"No, I suppose it isn't. But what has he got to marry on?" - -"Now, Uncle Philip, I'm going to say what I think! Justin is your son, -and every father owes something to his child. Don't you think so?" - -Davison's blue eyes snapped, but he would not be angry with this -favorite niece. - -"Well, yes, I suppose so, if you put it that way." - -"Justin and I have been just the same as engaged for a long time." - -"Yes, I've known that, too. I told him to show what there was in him; -and," his tone became bitter, "he has shown it!" - -Lucy refused to become offended. - -"Of course we can't marry unless you help him along. Justin has been -wanting to go to Denver. He thinks he could do well there by and by, -after he became acquainted and had a start. Doctor Clayton knows a man -there to whom he will give him a letter. But expenses are something -terrific in a city, and we should have to wait a long time before -Justin could work up to a salary that would justify us in getting -married." - -"So it's you that wants to get married, is it?" - -"I am one who wants to get married; Justin is the other." - -Davison laughed in changing mood. - -"What do you demand that I shall do?" - -"I don't demand anything, I simply suggest." - -"Then what do you suggest? He had the nerve to say that he thinks he -is capable of managing the new ditch." - -"I simply suggest that you help him in some way, as a father who is -able to should. He has worked for you a long time for very small -wages; wages so small that he could save nothing out of them, as you -know. I think that you ought to start him on one of the farms you have -recently bought, or else give him some good position, with a salary -that isn't niggardly. It seems to me he is capable and worthy." - -"If I don't give him a position, that will postpone this most -important marriage?" - -"I don't want him to go to Denver." - -A smile wrinkled Davison's face and lighted his blue eyes. - -"You are a good girl, Lucy; and Justin is a--is a Davison! And that -means he is hard-headed and has a good opinion of himself. I'll think -about it. Now run down and see that the cook doesn't spoil the dinner. -She burnt the bread yesterday until it was as black as coal and as -hard as a section of asphalt pavement. By the way, I don't suppose you -could cook or do housework?" - -"Try me!" she said, relaxing. - -And she departed, for she did not yet trust the new cook. - -The next day Davison offered Justin the position of ditch rider, at a -salary that made Fogg wince and protest, though he believed Justin to -be the very one for the place. That Justin should be given this -position seemed even to Fogg advisable, as a business consideration. -The "rider" of the canal and ditches comes into closer relationship -with the water users than any other person connected with an -irrigation company. He sees that the water is properly measured and -delivered, and he makes the equitable pro-rata distribution when the -supply is low or failing. Justin had the confidence of the farmers; -and, as there were sure to be many complaints, he would be a good -buffer to place between them and the company. - -Justin accepted the position. In a financial sense, it promised to -advance him very materially; and the prospect of the proper irrigation -of Paradise Valley pleased both him and Clayton. It was the beginning -of the fulfillment of Peter Wingate's dream. Yet Justin knew he was -asked to undertake a difficult task. Even when they had everything in -their own hands, the farmers had wrangled interminably over the -equitable distribution of the water. - -Having control of the source of supply and of the canal and laterals, -the first act of Fogg and Davison was to offer water to the farmers at -increased rates. They were strengthening the dam, and widening the -canal and laterals, at "terrific cost," Fogg claimed, and -reimbursement for this necessary outlay was but just. - -It was Fogg who planned and Fogg who executed. This was new business -to him, but no one would have guessed it. Over his oily, scheming face -hovered perpetual sunshine. His manner and his arguments subdued even -intractable men. It was said of him that he could get blood out of a -grindstone. What he said of himself was, "Whenever I see that the -props are kicked out from under me, I plan to have some kind of a good -cushion to land on." The cushion in this case was the exploitation of -the inevitable, the irrigation of Paradise Valley, for the benefit of -the exploiters. - -Many new settlers were drawn in by attractively-worded advertisements. -Then one of the things Justin had feared came to pass. Fogg sold more -water than he could deliver, trouble arose, and this trouble -descended, in great measure, on the head of the ditch rider. In spite -of all he could do to distribute the water fairly complaints and -protests were made. - -Fogg had planned for this condition, and he was iron. He claimed that -an unusually dry year had worked against the success of the company; -and as there was a clause in the water notes covering such a failure -to supply water, the farmers were forced, sometimes under the -sheriff's hammer, to pay the notes they had given. Buying sometimes -from the sheriff, and sometimes through second parties from the -farmers themselves, for numbers of them, in disgust, were willing to -sell and leave the country, before the end of the first year Fogg and -Davison had greatly increased their land holdings, by "perfectly -legitimate" methods. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE DOWNWARD WAY - - -Making the rounds of the house one night before retiring, Lucy came -upon Ben Davison rummaging through the desk in his father's room. The -drawers of the desk had been pulled out, the small safe had been -opened, and papers littered the chairs and floor. Surprised thus, Ben -faced her with an angry oath. She saw that he had been drinking. -Instead of putting color into his pale face, intoxication always made -it unnaturally white and set a glassy stare in his eyes. - -"What are you doing here, Ben?" she demanded. - -"I'm looking for money," he declared surlily. "Is it any of your -business?" - -"I think it is, when you begin to look for it in this way. Uncle -Philip doesn't know you're up here." - -"I'm going to have money, that's what!" he snarled. "Let him give me -the money I need, instead of driving me to tricks like this." - -"He gave you money only the other day; I saw him." - -"How much? A hundred dollars! There's money in this room, or there -was, and I know it; and I'm going to have it. I'm going to have as -much as I want, too, when I get my hands on it." - -"I shall have to report you, Ben!" - -He caught her fiercely by the shoulders, with a clutch that made her -wince and cry out in pain. - -"You have hurt me, Ben!" she sobbed. - -"I'll kill you, if you come meddling with my affairs!" - -He pushed her against the wall, and faced her with so threatening a -mien that she was frightened. The glare in his glassy eyes was enough -to make her tremble. - -"If you say anything about this I'll kill you! Do you hear? And if you -know where the money is I want you to tell me." - -"I don't know anything about it," she declared. - -"Curse you, I believe you do! I want money, and I'm going to have it. -I've got to have a thousand dollars; it's here, and I know it." - -He began to search again, tossing the papers about. - -"Uncle Philip never keeps so much money as that in the house, and you -should know that he doesn't." - -"Well, he could get it for me if he wanted to. He's got plenty of -money. I'm tired of being treated like a beggar. He says he's carrying -on his business so that he'll have money to leave me when he's dead; -but that isn't what I want--I want it now." - -"Won't you go down stairs, Ben?" she begged. "You almost broke my -shoulder, but I shan't mind that if you will go down stairs; and I'll -straighten up these papers for you and return them to their places." - -"I won't! I'm going to see if that money he got from Fogg yesterday is -here." - -"He put it in the bank of course, Ben; he wouldn't run the risk of -keeping it in the house." - -"You go down stairs or I'll make you," he threatened. - -She did not go. - -"What do you want the money for--to pay a gambling debt to Arkwright?" - -"Arkwright!" he screamed at her. "It's always Arkwright! But I'll tell -you, this money isn't for him. Instead of troubling me, why don't you -go to that puler, Justin? He'll be glad to see you, maybe; I'm not. So -clear out." - -"He is your brother!" - -"My half-brother, _he_ says; I've not acknowledged the relationship -yet!" - -She could do nothing with him, and she retreated down the stairs. For -some time she heard him walking about; then he descended and left the -house. When he was gone she went up to the room and found that he had -tried to re-arrange the papers, but had made a mess of it. She put -them away as well as she could, and closed the drawers and the safe. -She did not believe that he had secured any money, but she did not -know. And she passed a bad night, not knowing whether to acquaint -Davison with this latest of Ben's escapades or not. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -MARY'S DESPAIR - - -Justin had found Sloan Jasper one of the most troublesome of the water -users. Jasper was almost as hard to please as William Sanders; and -only the day before Sanders had denounced Justin as being in league -with the company to defraud the farmers. For these reasons Justin -always approached the farms of these men with trepidation. Trouble was -brewed on each visit. - -The trouble which brewed at Sloan Jasper's on this particular occasion -was, however, wholly unexpected, and of quite a different kind. Jasper -came out to the trail with an anxious air. - -"Mary is in the house and wants you to stop in and see her." - -Justin dismounted to enter the house. He had not known that Mary was -at home. - -"It's about Ben," said Jasper, "and I wish he was in hell! The way he -is carryin' on is killin' my girl by inches." - -With this stout denunciation of Ben ringing in his ears Justin went in -to see Mary. She had been crying. Jasper followed him into the house -and stood within the doorway, in an uneasy, angry attitude, holding -his soiled hat in his hands. - -"I wanted to see you about Ben," said Mary, rising to greet Justin. - -Her cheeks were pale and her eyes lacked lustre. With that rose-leaf -color gone, her face was so pallid that it deepened by contrast the -darkness of her eyes and her hair. She was rather handsome, in spite -of all, in one of those Denver dresses chosen by Sibyl Dudley, which -served to make her look taller and more stately than she was. - -Mary's desire was to have Justin do something to induce Ben to let -liquor alone. She acknowledged that she had lost all control over him, -if she had ever had any. More than once he had treated her brutally -while in a fit of intoxication. Yet she had clung to him. Having won -her girlish love, he still held it. She had long hoped that he would -abandon his wild ways after awhile and become a sober, sensible man, -to whom she could trust her life and happiness. She admitted that the -hope was growing faint. - -"I don't see what I can do," said Justin, touched by her unhappiness, -and perplexed. "If I go to Ben and say anything to him he will only -insult me. He hasn't liked me for a long time, as you know." - -"Perhaps if you would speak to Mr. Davison," Mary urged, with pathetic -persistence. - -Justin was sure that would present almost as many difficulties. He -knew that Philip Davison had long reasoned with Ben, and raved at him, -in vain. - -"Since it's known that you are his half-brother, I thought possibly -you could do something. I've tried until I don't know what to try -next." - -"Give the scamp the go-by," said Jasper hotly. "Throw him over. Have -some spunk about you, can't ye? Why, if I was a woman, and a man -should treat me as he has you, I'd send him hummin' in a jiffy; I -wouldn't stand it." - -"But you don't understand, father." - -"Don't I? I understand too tarnal well. If I had my way I'd kick his -ornery carcass out of this house, if he ever ventured to set foot in -it ag'in. That'd be my way. Any other way is a fool's way, and you -ought to know it." - -"Don't listen to him, Justin," said Mary, tearfully. "You must know -how I feel, even if he doesn't. And if you can do anything to get Ben -to stop drinking and running around with Clem Arkwright I wish you -would." - -Never more than at that moment did Justin long for some influence with -Ben. He knew he had none. He made what promises he could, but they -were not very assuring. Mary followed him to the door, still urging -him. - -Riding on, thinking of Mary, Justin encountered Lucy. She joined him, -and they rode together along the homeward trail. When she rallied him -on his depressed manner, he told her of Mary's appeal. - -"Yes," she admitted, "I had heard she was at home, and I know only too -well that Ben has been drinking more than ever of late. I can see that -it is hurting Uncle Philip very much. He has always believed that when -Ben sows what he calls his wild oats he will change and be a man, but -I've doubted it. There isn't anything you can do, not a thing; but I -shall go to see Mary, and try to make her feel better." - -She looked earnestly at Justin, riding beside her. He had put aside -the checked business suit of gray, and was clad roughly, as became his -muddy calling. Yet how manly he was, however he dressed; how broad his -shoulders, how sturdy and well-knit his frame, how clear and open his -countenance, and how intelligent and attractive the flash of his eyes, -as he conversed with her! She knew that she loved him more than ever. - -"One would never dream that you are related to Ben!" - -"I hope I am not like him, even though he is my half-brother." - -"You aren't, not in the least; I don't think I could like you so well -as I do if you were." - -"Then you do like me?" - -He looked at her, smiling. - -"It would be only natural for me to like the man I have promised to -marry, wouldn't it?" - -"I was merely hoping that you love me; like is too mild a word." - -Then they began to talk again of that delightful day, ever hastening -nearer, as they believed, when they should be not merely lovers, but -husband and wife. It was a pleasant dream, and they lingered by the -way, as they contemplated its beauties. - -As they thus talked and loitered, Ben Davison came driving by in his -clog-cart, with Clem Arkwright. Arkwright's pudgy form was not quite -so pudgy, for he had not lived as well of late, but his face and nose -were as red as ever, and his old manner had not forsaken him. He bowed -elaborately to both Lucy and Justin. - -"A great day," he called, "a glorious day, and the old mountain is -grand; just take a glance at it now and then as you ride along; you'll -never see anything finer!" - -Ben did not look at Justin; but to Lucy he shouted: - -"I'm going to town to sell the horse and dogcart. I told you I would. -Arkwright knows a man who will buy them." - -When Lucy called on Mary, she heard details of a story which Mary had -not ventured to hint to Justin. Mary had made a discovery too long -delayed. Ben's frequent visits to Denver were not merely to see her; -the real attraction was Sibyl Dudley. Sibyl was the recipient of most -of the money Ben had been able to wring from his father or gain at -gambling. Her calls for money had increased his recklessness. Sibyl -was the horse-leech's daughter, crying ever for more, and Ben was -weak. - -Mary had pedestaled Sibyl and believed in her, refusing to see aught -but goodness, until her foolish belief became no longer possible. -Then, with her eyes opened, she marveled at her almost incomprehensible -blindness. Why had she not seen before? If she had seen before she -might have saved Ben, she thought. She recalled the genial Mr. -Plimpton. Had Sibyl, by incessant demands for money, wrought the -financial overthrow of Plimpton? Every suggestion that came to her now -was sickening and horrible. Such an awakening is often disastrous in -its results. Doubt of humanity itself is a fruit of that tree of -knowledge, and that doubt had come to Mary. - -Lucy took the unhappy girl in her arms. She was herself grieved and -shocked. - -"You poor dear!" was all she was able to say at first. - -"And, oh, I am to blame for it all!" Mary sobbed, putting her arms -about the neck of her comforter. "I can see what a fool I was, and it -was pride that made me a fool. I went up there as ignorant as a child; -I thought it would be fine to live in a city and be a lady and drive -round in a carriage. How I hate that carriage! And that coachman. I -know even he must have thought horrid things about me. And Plimpton! I -know what Plimpton was now, and I hate him. It seems to me I could -stamp on him if I saw him fall down in the street. And I--I hate--oh, -there isn't a word strong enough to tell how I hate Mrs. Dudley! I -thought she was an angel, and she is--is--a brute!" - -"You poor dear!" said Lucy, smoothing back the dark hair from the -fevered and tear-wet face. "You poor dear! You have been cruelly -deceived and abused. It doesn't seem possible! I was as much deceived -as you, for I thought Mrs. Dudley a very pleasant woman. There were -some things about her I didn't like, about the way she dressed and -painted, yet I never thought but that she was a good woman. I didn't -suspect anything, for you told me she was rich." - -"And that's what she told me, but she lied; she's been getting her -money from fools like Plimpton and Ben. And I used her money, and -lived in her house, and rode about in her carriage with all Denver -gaping at me, and never knew a thing. Even this dress I have on was -bought with her money. I want to tear it off and stamp it into the -mud; but I haven't a thing to wear that she didn't get for me, not a -thing. And my--my silly pride is to blame--is to blame for Ben, and -everything. If I hadn't gone with her Ben might never have met her. -But if Ben could only be induced to quit drinking, something could be -done with him yet. I almost wish he would get sick; anything to keep -him away from that woman." - -"Did he say anything to you?" - -"Yes, he did, when I hinted at what I had discovered and told him I -had left Denver for good and all; he told me I was a little idiot. But -I didn't mind that; I've got so used to his harsh words that I don't -mind them; but this I couldn't stand, this about Sibyl. So then I put -aside my shame, and I told him right to his face that I was a silly -idiot or I would never speak to him again; and he confessed to me that -he had been going there to see Mrs. Dudley more than me, and said he -would go as often as he pleased, and that I could help myself; and he -said, too, that he intended to marry her. But I know that isn't so; he -would never marry her now. I told him he wouldn't, and begged him to -remember his promises to me and keep away from her; and he told me to -shut my mouth and mind my own business. As if that isn't my own -business!" - -She began to cry again; and Lucy, holding her tightly, rocked her as -if she were a child. - -"And, oh, I was so happy! So happy, until I knew that! It was a -selfish happiness I see now but I thought it was true happiness. I -thought everything of Mrs. Dudley--just everything; and I thought she -loved me as much as I loved her; and to have this come! It breaks my -heart, it breaks my heart! Oh, Ben, Ben!" - -She lay in Lucy's arms. Their tears flowed together. But what could be -said to comfort her? - -"Did Mrs. Dudley say anything?" - -"When I reproached her she was indignant and denied it; she cried, and -said I was an ungrateful girl and did not deserve to have a friend. -She declared that Ben came only to see me; but in her very confusion I -could see that she was lying, for when my eyes began to open they -became sharp as needles. Oh, I could see through her, after that! I -told her she had stolen Ben from me, and all for his money, and that -she was ruining him, and that it would kill me. I don't know what I -said, for I was crazy, and I was crying so that I thought my heart -would break. And just as soon as I could get out of the house I did, -and I came right down here; but even then I had to use her money, a -little money she had given me, to pay car fare, for I hadn't any -other. But just the thought of it made me want to jump off that train -and kill myself." - -"You poor dear!" - -And Lucy, holding her in a close embrace, kissed the tear-stained -face. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE WAGES OF SIN - - -The knowledge of why Mary had returned so suddenly came first to -Justin through Sloan Jasper himself. Jasper met Justin as he rode -along the trail the next day, and told him all about it, without -veiled words, and with many fierce oaths. - -"He's killed my girl, damn him; broke her heart! She's home, cryin' -her eyes out day and night, and all on account of him. She's a fool; I -wouldn't look at the skunk ag'in, if't was me; but she's a woman and -that accounts fer it, and it's killin' her." - -Justin hastened to convey the news to Curtis Clayton, whom he found at -home, in the front yard, engaged in freeing a butterfly from the -spoke-like web of a geometric spider. A flush of indignation swept -through Justin, as the thought came to him that perhaps Clayton had -known all along and had kept silent. Clayton took the butterfly in his -hands and began to remove the clinging mesh from its golden wings. -When he had done so his fingers were smeared with its gold dust and it -crawled along unable to fly. He regarded it thoughtfully. - -"I've done the best I could; I released it, but I can't put the gold -back on its wings, nor mend them. The rest of its life it will be a -draggled wreck, but luckily its life will be short." - -Then Justin told him what he had learned from Sloan Jasper. - -Clayton cast the draggled butterfly away and sank to a seat on the -door-step. His face filled with a troubled look. For a little while he -said nothing. - -"I suppose that I am partly to blame for that," he confessed, humbly. -"I have never talked to you about Mrs. Dudley, but I will tell you now -that she was once my wife." - -Justin showed no surprise. - -"I knew it." - -"You knew it! How? I never mentioned it to you." - -"No, but I have seen that photograph of her you have treasured, and I -saw her that day of the rabbit hunt. Putting those two things -together, with something that Mary told Lucy, made me sure that she -had once been your wife." - -Clayton was bewildered. - -"Something Mary told Lucy?" - -"Yes, about your arm; Mrs. Dudley told Mary how you came to have a -stiff arm, and though she did not admit that she was the woman who -caused it, and Mary did not suspect it then, Lucy did; and she told me -about it." - -Clayton stared at the butterfly crawling away through the grass. - -"When I heard that Mary had gone with Mrs. Dudley to Denver, I rode -over to Sloan Jasper's to tell him that I feared it was not wise. But, -really, I had nothing on which to base a charge, except my suspicions. -I knew why I had left her, but nothing more. And my courage failed. I -said nothing, and I should have said something. But," he leaned back -wearily against the door, "when you come to love a woman as I loved -her, Justin, you will perhaps know how I felt, and why I hesitated. I -was weak, because of that love; that is all I can say about it." - -The contempt growing for Clayton in Justin's heart was swept away. He -knew what love, true love, is; the love which believeth all things, -hopeth all things, endureth all things; which changes never, though -all the world is changed. - -"I loved her," Clayton went on, his deep voice trembling, "and rather -than say anything that might not be true I said nothing. I did wrong. -And I am punished, for this thing hurts me more than you can know." - -Justin had come close to Clayton's heart many times, but never closer -than now. He looked at the suffering man with much sympathy. Clayton -swung his stiff arm toward the crawling butterfly. - -"It can never be the same again; I was never the same again, nor can -Ben be. It has been in the web, and its wings are broken and the gold -gone. We think that under given circumstances we would not do certain -things, but we don't know. Environment, heredity, passions of various -kinds, selfishness, pull us this way and that; and when we declare, as -so many do, that if we were this person or that we should not do as he -or she does, we simply proclaim our ignorance. There is not a man -alive who knows himself to the innermost core of his being. I am a -dozen men rolled into one, and the whole dozen are contemptible. I -despise myself more than you can." - -"Why should you say that?" - -"You did despise me, or came near it, a moment ago; I saw it in your -manner." - -"Was my manner different? I didn't know it, and didn't intend that it -should be. But I couldn't understand how you could keep still so long, -if you knew." - -"I kept still because I am a coward, and because I loved that woman. -That explains everything; explains why I am here in Paradise Valley, -living like a hermit. I wanted to get away, and I wanted to forget. I -got away, but if one could take the wings of the morning he could -never out-fly memory. I could never live happily with that woman, and -I have never been able to live happily without her. When she came into -my life she wrecked it. Some women are born to that fate, I suppose; -and if that is so, perhaps they ought not to be blamed too severely. -But I am sorry for Mary Jasper, and I am more than sorry for Ben. He -was already going to the devil at a lively gait. Sibyl is one of those -women whose feet take hold on hell, and she will drag him down with -her, if he does not get out of her web, or is not helped out. And I'm -afraid he can't be helped out." - -Clayton set out to see Davison, and have a talk with him on this -disagreeable subject; but, as before when he desired to speak to Sloan -Jasper, he turned back without saying anything. - -Davison seemed not to know what had occurred. He and Fogg went often -to and from Denver, as they continued their work of exploiting -Paradise Valley for the benefit of their pockets. From Denver they had -brought an engineer, who had made a survey and report on the available -sources of water. Behind a granite ridge, at the head of the valley, -flowed Warrior River, a swift stream that wasted itself uselessly in -the deep gorges that lay to the southwest. The engineer's report -showed that a tunnel cut through that ridge would pour Warrior River -into Paradise Creek and water many thousands of acres of land which -could not now be touched. - -"We'll do it later," Fogg had said to Davison, when they examined the -plans and estimates. "It's going to take too much money right now. -We'll try to get those thousands of acres into our own hands first. -Then we'll cut that tunnel and build that dam, and we'll squeeze a -fortune out of the business. We may have to float irrigating bonds, -and put blanket mortgages on the land, but it will pay big in the -end." - -Davison was subservient to the man who had the Midas touch. It was -still for Ben, all for Ben; to gain wealth for Ben he was permitting -himself to be led by one who in matters of business never had a -straight thought. - -As they returned from Denver one night by a late train, a lantern was -swung across the track at the cut near the head of Paradise Valley, a -mile above the town. The whistle screamed, and the air-brakes being -applied, the train came to a stop so suddenly that the passengers were -almost thrown from their seats. Before the grinding of the wheels had -ceased shots were heard outside. - -Fogg clutched the big wallet tucked in the inner pocket of his coat. - -"By George, it's a hold-up," he cried, his fat body trembling, "and -I've got a thousand dollars in cash here to give to those fool farmers -who wouldn't accept our checks in payment for their land!" - -He sank back into the seat, quivering like a bag of jelly. Fear of the -loss of that money unnerved him. Davison was of different mold. As the -shots continued, and he heard voices, and saw men jumping from their -seats, he sprang into the aisle, tugging at the revolver he carried in -his hip pocket. Fogg sought to restrain him. - -"Sit down! Don't be a fool! Let the other fellows do the fighting. -That's always my rule, and it's a good one. If I'm not troubled here, -I'll promise not to trouble anybody." - -But Davison was gone, following close after a man he saw hurrying to -the platform. He and Fogg were in the smoking car, which was next to -the combination baggage-and-express car. Other men dropped from the -platform steps to the ground as he did, and some of them began to fire -off their revolvers, shooting apparently into the air. - -Davison was not a man to waste his ammunition in a mere effort to -frighten the robbers by the rattle of a harmless fusillade. He saw a -masked figure moving near the forward car, and he let drive, with aim -so true that the masked figure pitched forward on its face. The other -robbers, disconcerted by the resistance, were already in retreat. - -With a grim feeling of satisfaction Davison called loudly for a -lantern. One was brought hurriedly; and a train man, whipping out his -knife, severed the strings that held the mask in place over the face -of the slain robber. Fogg was still in the smoker, his fat body -shaking with fear. - -As the mask dropped aside, the light of the lantern revealed to the -startled gaze of Philip Davison Ben's pallid, dissipated face. He was -bending forward to look, and with a hoarse and inarticulate cry he -fell headlong across the body of his son. - -One of the robbers was captured that night, as he attempted to escape -into the hills. The town and the valley had been aroused. Steve -Harkness led the capturing party, and short work was made of this -robber. When morning dawned a rope and a telegraph pole alone upheld -him from the earth. As the body swung at the sport of the wind, the -blackened face was turned now and then toward the flat-topped -mountain. On the breast was displayed this scrawl: - -"SO'S HE CAN LOOK AT THE SCENERY." - -The body was that of Clem Arkwright. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -SHADOWS BEFORE - - -Philip Davison, conveyed to his home in Paradise Valley, hovered -between life and death, attended by Doctor Clayton and waited upon by -Lucy and Justin. Fogg lent a hand with hearty will, and Pearl -Harkness, forgetting that there had ever been any disagreement between -Davison and her husband, established herself again for a time in the -Davison home, that she might assist Lucy. Steve Harkness, not to be -outdone by his wife, offered his services in any way they could be -utilized, and found that there was enough for him to do. - -Davison improved somewhat, but could not leave his bed. From the -strong man he had been reduced until he was as helpless as a child; -and for a time his mental strength was but little better than his -physical. - -Before going back to Denver Fogg took Justin aside. - -"I don't see but I shall have to ask you to look after things here, -Justin, while I am gone." - -"Command me in any way," said Justin. - -"It's a lucky thing that you're capable of taking hold now. Some one -ought to visit the Purgatoire and see how the cattle are doing there, -and some one must ride the ditch and look out for matters at this end -of the line. Harkness can go to the Purgatoire; he will go if you ask -him, though likely he wouldn't for me; and you can have charge here." - -Fogg was mentally distressed. The shock had left its traces even on -his buoyant nature. Through worry he had lost girth; the ponderous -stomach on which the shining chain heaved up and down as he breathed -heavily and talked was not so assertively protuberant, and his fat -face had lost something of its unctuous shine. Somehow, though he -could hardly account for it, for nothing in the shape of material -wealth had so far been lost there by him, Paradise Valley oppressed -him like a bad dream, and he was anxious to get away from it for a -time. - -"I shall be glad to do whatever I can," Justin declared. - -"It's your own father who is lying in that room, which he'll never get -out of I'm afraid, and I knew of course you'd be willing to help out -now all you can. Clayton doesn't speak very favorably of the case. -There isn't really anything the matter with Davison, so far as any one -can see. It's his mind, I reckon; it must have been an awful shock to -him, perfectly terrible, and it has simply laid him out. He thought -everything of Ben. Well, I'm not a man to talk about the dead; but Ben -would have tried the soul of a saint, and if I must say it to you I -never saw anything very saintly in the character of your father." - -"It's a good thing Harkness didn't move out of the valley when he left -the ranch." - -"A great thing for us now. He's dropped everything over on his farm -and stays here almost night and day. I'll see that he doesn't lose by -it." - -While they were talking, William Sanders came up, chewing like a -ruminant. - -"When I had my fortune told that time in Denver the fortune teller -said there was goin' to be a heap of trouble down here, and it's come. -I don't reckon that Paradise Valley is any too lucky a place to live -in, after all. But them that makes trouble must expect trouble." - -Fogg did not deign to notice this. - -"How are your crops, Mr. Sanders?" he asked, with his habitual smile. - -"They might be better, if the ditch company and the ditch rider done -their duty. I ain't scarcely had any water fer a week, and that field -of millet in the northeast corner of my place is dry as a dust heap. I -been wonderin' when I'll git water to it. That's why I come over." - -Justin promised to see to it. - -"Davison ain't doin' as well as he might, I hear?" - -He plucked a straw and set it between his teeth. - -"Not doing well at all," said Fogg. - -"Well, it's a pity; but them that makes trouble must expect trouble." - -When Lemuel Fogg returned to Paradise Valley a month later Philip -Davison was not changed greatly. His mind was clear, but his physical -condition was low. Clayton remained with him much of the time, when -not called away to visit other patients. But Davison never spoke to -him of Ben nor of Justin. - -With Fogg at this time came a man who represented an Eastern -home-builders' association, whose object was to establish homes for -worthy but comparatively poor men in favorable places on the cheap -lands of the West. The association was conducted by charitable men and -women who had collected funds for their enterprise. There were many -excellent families, this man said, in cities and elsewhere, who would -be glad to go upon farms, if only they could do so. It was the purpose -of this society to help such people. It would place them upon farms, -furnish comfortable houses, give them a start, and permit them to -repay the outlay in longtime installments. The self-respect of a -farming community thus established would be maintained, and that was a -factor making for moral health which could not be overlooked. - -When Fogg had shown this man about the valley he introduced him to -Justin, and later talked with Justin about him. - -"I've listened to him," he said, "and his proposition strikes me -favorably. He wants to buy canal and dam, land and everything, and he -offers a good price. If we accept, he will cut the tunnel through the -ridge to the Warrior River and bring that water in here to irrigate -the valley, and he will bring on his colony from the East. As soon as -Davison is able to talk about it, I'll put the matter before him. I -think it would mean big money to us, if we sell a part of the land, -enough for them to settle their colony on; and sell out to them, too, -our interests in the irrigation company. They're in shape to cut that -tunnel to the Warrior and put in a good dam. When the thing has been -developed as they propose to develop it, every acre in this valley -will be worth ten times what it is now. So, you see my point. They'll -cut the tunnel, develop and settle the country, and thus make the land -we shall still hold worth a good deal more than the whole of it is -worth today, counting cattle and everything else in. But to induce -them to take up this enterprise we've got to sell them our stock in -the canal company and enough land to make it worth their while. If we -don't, there are other valleys in the state, and they'll go elsewhere -and do what they think of doing here." - -Fogg was enthusiastic. This new plan offered greater profit than -anything that had yet been brought to his consideration. It built a -new dream-world in Justin's mind. In this dream-world the vision of -Peter Wingate took actual form, and he saw the desert burst into bloom -and fruitage. - -At another time when Fogg came down there came with him a cattleman -who desired to purchase the herd that grazed on the mesa above -Paradise Valley and watered where the fenced chute opened upon the -water-holes. It was still a considerable herd, and troublesome near -the irrigated farms. Its grazing range lay on the now contracted area -that stretched round to the southward of the valley and extended to -and beyond the Black Caon. The fence by the Black Caon had been -ordered down by the government agents, and the herd was for sale. - -Davison's condition was improved, and Fogg went in to discuss with him -the subject of the sale of this herd, or a large portion of it, and -also the proposition of the man from the East. - -Coming out, he met Justin with a smile. - -"You haven't seen your father this morning?" - -"Not this morning; but I was in his room awhile yesterday, and he -seemed much better." - -"Very much better; he's going to get well, in my opinion. I've had a -long talk with him, and he agrees with me about those sales. The man -who came down with me is ready to buy. We'll let him have what he -wants; the remainder of the herd we'll throw over on the Purgatoire. -You may tell Harkness about it, and things can be made ready for the -transfer of the cattle. They'll have to be driven to the station for -shipment." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -PHILOSOPHY GONE MAD - - -One day it became known that Sibyl Dudley had visited Paradise Valley -and was stopping in the town. She had ridden out to call on Mary -Jasper. - -Justin carried the unpleasant news to Clayton. - -"I hope I shan't see her," said Clayton, nervously. He had received -the news in his study, where he had been writing. Now he laid down his -pen. "I hope it isn't her intention to call here. But tell me about -it; why has she visited Mary?" - -"That I don't know. Lucy saw her as she left Jasper's. She will find -out for me." - -"And Mary? I haven't heard about her for some time." - -"She is very much changed. You would hardly know her. She was in bed -nearly a month after Ben's death. But I've thought she looked better -lately." - -"Youth is strong," said Clayton; "it can survive much. But I am -surprised that Mrs. Dudley has called there." - -When Justin had nothing further to communicate Clayton turned again to -his writing. But that night he called Justin into his study, a place -in which Justin had passed many pleasant hours. Clayton was -hollow-cheeked and nervous. The news of the coming of Sibyl to -Paradise Valley had not been without its evil effect. - -"You are well, Justin?" he inquired solicitously. - -"Quite well," said Justin, with some show of surprise. - -"I hoped so; but things have gone so wrong here lately that I worry -about every one." - -He took up some sheets of paper on which he had been writing. - -"In our latest talk I was telling you something about the new views I -have worked out concerning spiritual matters. I told you I had come to -the conclusion that the laws which apply to the material world apply -also to the spiritual world. In the material world we have the law of -evolution. We do not know how life begins, but we know how it -develops. Applying this to the spiritual world, we may say that though -we cannot know how spiritual life begins it must develop after it -begins. And development implies different grades or orders of beings; -name them angels, or what you will." - -"You know I said I wasn't able to agree with you about all those -things," Justin reminded, gently. - -"That doesn't matter; it is nothing to me who believes or disbelieves. -Whatever is truth is truth, if it is never accepted by any one. I -simply work out these results for my own satisfaction, and I like to -talk them over with you." - -Justin settled in his chair to listen. This new view of Clayton's -seemed strange, but it was sure to be presented in an interesting -manner. - -"I think I have made a startling discovery." Clayton's eyes shone and -his manner astonished Justin. "In the material world man is the -highest product of evolution, though he has not reached the highest -possible state. In the spiritual world, which must be more advanced, -the highest state has been reached, and he who has reached it we call -God. The one best fitted to reach it of all spiritual beings has -reached it, and has become absolute. Yet every spiritual being is -entitled to reach that state, if he is worthy, each in turn. Being -infinite, God could prevent that, and occupy the throne forever. The -common belief is that he does so occupy it. But, being just, as well -as infinite, he abdicates--suicides, if I may use the word without -irreverence--so that another spirit, becoming perfect through ages of -development, may take the throne; and when he does so we have what is -popularly conceived of as 'the end of the world'--the universe goes -back in the twinkling of an eye to fire-mist and chaos, and all -tilings begin over again. That is the great day of fire, when all -things are consumed; the day of which the Revelator wrote when he -said, 'And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled -together.'" - -There was something in Clayton's eyes which Justin had never seen -before, and which he did not like; it forced him to combat Clayton's -astonishing views. - -"But the logic of the situation compels that belief," Clayton -insisted. - -"Then I refuse to accept the premises." - -"But you can't!" His earnestness grew. "See here!" He read over some -of the things he had written. "It comes to that, and there is no way -of getting round it." - -"I get round it by refusing to believe any of it." - -"And Justin!" The dark eyes shone with a still brighter light. "I put -the question to you:--If God, the Infinite, may commit suicide for a -good reason, why may not a man? I put it to you." - -Seeing the black thought which lay back of these words Justin began to -reason with Clayton, combating the idea with all the vigor and -eloquence at his command, and years of training under Clayton had made -him a good reasoner. But he could not break the chain of false logic -which Clayton had forged, or at least he could not make Clayton see -that it was broken, though he talked long and earnestly. - -Justin passed an uneasy night, waking at intervals with a nervous -start, and listening for something, he hardly knew what. Once, hearing -Clayton stirring, he sat up in bed, shivering, ready to leap out and -force his way into Clayton's room, if it seemed necessary. He was -alarmed, and he thought he had ground for his alarm. The coming of -Sibyl to the valley he charged with being responsible for Clayton's -strange and changed manner. Sibyl's malevolent influence seemed to lie -over everything that came near her, like the blight of the fabled -upas. - -In the morning Clayton was very quiet, and even listless. He did not -recur to the talk of the previous evening, though Justin momentarily -expected him to, and was forging more arguments to combat this new and -distressing theory which had wormed its way into Clayton's troubled -mind. During the day, when there were so many things to hold his -attention, Clayton was not likely to give so much thought to Sibyl and -his new conclusions; he had a number of patients, including Davison, -who demanded his attention, and as a physician he threw himself into -his work without reserve or thought of himself. Therefore, Justin felt -easier when Clayton saddled his horse and rode away to visit a sick -man, who was one of the newer settlers in the valley. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -SIBYL AND CLAYTON - - -Returning that afternoon from a long and somewhat wearing journey, and -being distressed and troubled, Clayton encountered Sibyl, as he turned -into the Paradise trail. - -She was mounted on a spirited bay horse, which she had obtained in the -town, and was riding out to make a call on Mary Jasper. She drew her -horse in, when she beheld Clayton, and sat awaiting him. He would have -fled, when he saw her there, but that such an act savored of -ungallantry and cowardice. So he continued on until he reached her -side. She looked into his troubled face with a smile, pushing back her -veil with a jeweled white hand from which she had drawn the glove. He -had always admired the beauty of her hands. - -"I thought it was you," she said in her sweetest manner. "So I waited -for you to come up." - -"What are you doing here?" he demanded, hoarsely. - -"I have friends in the town, you know, and I came down to visit them; -just now I am on my way to call on Mary. But it's such a pleasure to -see you, Curtis, that if you don't object I'll ride with you a short -distance." - -The blood came into his face under that winning smile. He knew he -ought to hate this woman, and he had a sense of self-contempt when he -could not. - -"I thought yesterday of calling on you," she went on. - -"I'm glad you didn't," he contrived to say. - -"Now, don't be foolish and unreasonable, Curtis. I know what you've -thought, and all the horrid things that have been said about me since -Ben Davison's death, but they weren't true. It isn't any pleasanter -for me to be lied about and misunderstood than it is for you and -Justin. Mary's mind has been poisoned against me, but I'll make her -see even yet that I'm not the woman she thinks I am." - -He sat looking at her in hesitation, the strange light which Justin -had noticed again in his eyes; he hardly heard her words, but he could -not fail to hear the music of her voice. It had not lost its charm. - -"Good God, Sibyl," he burst out, "if you could only have been true to -me, and we could have lived happily together!" - -There was agony and yearning in his tone. - -"You have thought many foolish things, which you had no right to -think, just like other people. Shall we ride along? There is a good -path leading by those bushes." - -"Yes, the trail past the Black Caon." - -The fence hedging the mesa from the valley had been lately removed. He -turned his horse toward the path, and they rode along together. At -first he did not speak, but listened to her, with a glance at her now -and then as she sat, firmly erect and beautiful, on that handsome bay. -Her gray veil fluttered above her face. It was an attractive face, -even a beautiful one, after all the years, and the strain and turmoil -of them. There were a few fine hair-like wrinkles about the dark eyes, -but she knew how to conceal them. The rouge which Lemuel Fogg had -noticed in Denver was absent, or, having been deftly applied, was -unnoticed by Clayton. Her blue close-fitting riding habit, with a dash -of bright color at the throat, became her and heightened her charm. -And it was her beauty, unchanged, it seemed to him, which Clayton -devoured when he glanced at her; it was her beauty which had won his -boyish heart, and it had not lost its power. - -"Good God, Sibyl, if you could only have been true to me!" he -exclaimed again. - -She showed no irritation. - -"You have thought many things that weren't true; for you were never -willing to believe anything but the worst. This is a lovely country -here, isn't it? And that caon; it's a horrid-looking hole, but -fascinating." - -"As fascinating as sin, or a beautiful woman." - -She laughed lightly. - -"You always had a way of saying startling things. If you had set your -mind to it you might have been a great and successful flatterer." - -"I might have been many things, if other things had been different." - -"I suppose that is true of all of us. The trouble is that there seems -to be no forgiveness for mistakes." - -"What do you mean by that?" - -Her dark eyes looked into his. As they were withdrawn they took in -every detail of his face and figure. - -"I really didn't know you were so good looking, Curtis! You're really -stunning on a horse, in that dark suit and those tan riding boots. I -think you must have prospered down here?" - -"I have lived." - -"What I meant was that you never have been able to forgive any of my -mistakes." - -"Your sins, you mean." - -"Believing evil of me, you say sins. But I have been lied about, -Curtis, cruelly lied about; I'm not perfect, any more than you are, -but I'm not as bad as you think. You said a while ago, in one of your -dramatic ways, that if I could only have been true to you, and we -could have lived happily together! If I went wrong once, is that any -reason why I couldn't be true to you now?" - -His hand shook on the rein. - -"I don't believe you could be true to any man or any thing." - -"Now is that quite fair?" - -"Perhaps it is not quite fair, but you know I have had good cause for -saying it." - -"Judge me by the present, not by the past. Do as you would be done by. -That's been one of the tenets of your creed, I believe." - -"Judge you by the present?" - -"Yes; give me a chance to show that I can be true to you." - -"You mean live with me again as my wife?" - -"Why not?" - -Again her dark eyes were scanning his face and figure. Plimpton was -gone, Ben Davison was dead, and the years were passing. Even Mary had -deserted her. She had no money, and soon might not have even so much -as a shelter to which she could turn. Mary's desertion and loss of -faith in her had been the heaviest blow of all. It uprooted violently -a genuine affection. - -Sibyl Dudley, in spite of a brave outward show, was beginning to feel -the terrifying loneliness of isolation; the protection of even that -broken arm of Curtis Clayton, which she had scorned in other days, -would be a comfort now. She knew that he had never ceased to love her, -and she might win and hold him again. That would at least forefend the -terrors of poverty and loneliness which threatened her in the shadows -of the gathering years. - -Clayton did not reply to her question instantly. He looked off into -space with dark eyes that were troubled. Sibyl, glancing at him, saw -the stiff left arm swinging heavily, and thought of the flower in that -caon long ago and of the foolish girl who stood on the caon wall and -called to her devoted lover to get it for her. Afterward, that foolish -girl had trampled in the dust even the beautiful flower of his perfect -love. It began to seem that she would live to regret it, if she were -not regretting it already. The mills of the gods are still turned by -the river of Time, and they still grind exceeding fine. - -"If I could but trust you!" he said, after a while, with a sigh. - -They went on, past the granite wall of the caon, and out upon the -high mesa beyond. Behind them lay Paradise Valley, smiling in the -sunshine of the warm afternoon. Before them was a dust of moving -cattle. Harkness, having received his instructions from Justin, was -bunching the mesa herd, with the assistance of cowboys, preparatory to -cutting out the cattle that had been sold and driving them to the -station for shipment. - -"If I could but trust you!" Clayton repeated, when she made further -protest. "Perfect love casteth out fear, but I haven't that perfect -love any longer." - -He turned on her an anguished face. - -"Yet, even while I say that, I know that I have never stopped loving -you a single minute in all these years. Such love should have had a -better reward." - -"I was foolish, Curtis. And I have paid for my foolishness." - -The dark eyes turned to his were half veiled by the dark lashes, in -the old fascinating way. Cleopatra must have looked thus upon Antony. - -"For all the heart-ache I have caused you I beg forgiveness. Kindness -has always been your hobby, kindness to everything, even the dumb -brutes; and now I think you ought to be a little bit kind to me, when -I come to you and tell you that I am sorry for everything, for all -that has been and all that you have believed." - -"I forgive you," he said, breathing hard. "I forgave you from the -first." - -"But I want your love again. It isn't often that a woman comes to a -man begging in this way." - -"You have always had my love, and you have it now; I never loved any -one else. I have never looked on any woman with thought of love since -I left you and came to this valley." - -The dust cloud had thickened, and from the mesa before them came -shouts and confused cries. Then from the right, out of the deep -trough-like depression which the cowboys called "the draw," there -heaved suddenly a line of moving backs and clicking horns. - -Sibyl was putting on the glove she had carried in her jeweled hand and -was arranging her veil. She had kept the hand ungloved that its beauty -might be displayed, but had begun to feel that both face and hand -needed protection from the hot sunshine. Clayton drew rein, when that -heaving line rose before him, apparently out of the earth. Until then -he had forgotten where he was, had forgotten everything but the woman -beside him. - -Sibyl's face whitened when she saw those tossing horns; and the veil, -escaping in her agitation, was blown toward the cattle. Startled by -having come so suddenly on these riders, the cattle were halting in -confusion. The fluttering veil, whirled into their midst by the wind, -completed the work of fear. - -The rustle of a leaf as it scrapes and bobs over the ground, a flash -of sunlight from a bit of broken glass, the scampering of a coyote to -his covert, or the tumbling to earth of an unhorsed cowboy, will -sometimes throw a moving herd into a panic of fright and bring on a -wild stampede, though at other times all these things combined would -not have the slightest effect. The reason must be sought in the -psychology of fear. - -The cattle in front whirled to race away from that fluttering object -of terror, while those behind crowded them on. In the midst of the -confusion, the larger herd plunged into view out of the dust cloud, -hurried along by the cowboys. A quiver of fright ran through the -entire heaving mass, and in an instant the stampede madness was born. - -"We must get out of this!" Clayton shifted the reins to his stiff left -hand and turned her horse about. "You used to be a good horsewoman, -and we may have to do some sharp riding." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE RIDE WITH DEATH - - - "So steady and firm, leaning low to the mane, - With the heel to the flank and the hand to the rein, - Rode we on; - Reaching low, breathing loud, as a creviced wind blows; - Yet we spoke not a whisper, we breathed not a prayer; - There was work to be done, there was death in the air; - And the chance was as one to a thousand." - -Sibyl had buttoned her glove, and she now took the rein herself and -settled firmly in the saddle. - -"Do you think there is danger? How horrid to have a thing like this -happen and spoil our ride!" - -To her unpracticed eyes the appearance of the moiling herd was not as -threatening as at first. The cattle in front were pushing into those -behind and staying their forward progress. Farther back, where the -stampede madness was doing its deadliest work, she could not see, for -the cattle there were hidden by the dust cloud. - -"We must get out of this," said Clayton, in a nervous voice, as he set -his horse in motion. "Unless we ride fast they may cut us off at the -lower end of the caon." - -The forward line of moving cattle was hurled on again, as the receding -wave is caught by the one behind it and flung against the shore. The -thunder of pounding hoofs rose like the lashing of surf on a rocky -coast. Then that long line, flashing out of the dust, deepened -backward beneath the lifting cloud until it resembled a stretch of -tossing sea. The resemblance was more than fanciful. The irregular -heaving motion of a choppy sea was there, the white glint of horns was -as the shine of wave crests, the tumultuous roar rose and fell like -the thunder of billows, and the dust cloud hovered like thick mist. - -Clayton and Sibyl were galloping at a swift pace. Terror clutched at -her heart now and shone in her dark eyes. She heard the mad roar -behind her, and dared not look back. Clayton looked back, and his face -became set and white. - -"A little faster," he begged, when he had thus glanced behind. - -He struck her horse with his hand to urge it on, while his heels -flailed the sides of his own beast. Her ribboned whip lifted and fell, -and she cried out to her horse in fear. The whole herd was in motion. - -It was crescent-shaped; widest in its center, like the horned moon; -one end rested, or rather moved, on the caon's rim; the other, out on -the flat mesa, was swinging in toward the caon, farther down. It was -this lower point of the crescented herd that Clayton feared most; the -great moon-shaped mass was crumpling together, its ends were -converging, and if that lower point reached the caon before the -riders could pass through the gap which now beckoned there, they would -be caught in the loop of the crumpled crescent and crushed to death or -hurled into the caon. The only hope lay in passing through that -opening while it still remained an opening. And toward that gap they -were riding, with a portion of the herd thundering behind along the -caon wall. - -"We can make it," Clayton cried hopefully; "we can make it!" - -And he urged the horses on. - -Though the words encouraged her, Sibyl could not fail to perceive the -deadly peril of the closing gap toward which they were speeding. - -Fortunately the ground was level, broken only by grassy hillocks and -bunches of sage. The few obstructing plum bushes that had survived the -fire or had sprouted since that time had been passed already. - -As the cattle at the lower end of the crescent were thus brought near, -Sibyl beheld the flecking spume of their foaming mouths as it was -flung into the air and glistened on their heads and bodies. She could -even see the insane glare of their eyes, as they drove toward her in -their unheeding course. The thunder of their hoofs was making the -ground shake. - -"Ride, ride!" Clayton shouted, his voice tremulous. "We can get -through. We must get through!" - -Even the horses seemed to know what threatened now. Leaping into the -narrowing gap, they answered this last appeal of heel, whip, and voice -with a further increase of speed. Clayton bent forward in his saddle -as if he would hurl himself on, and in the extremity of his anxiety -reached out his stiff hand toward Sibyl's bridle to urge her horse to -even a swifter pace. - -They were riding dangerously near the caon wall. Hidden as the caon -was by tall grass, the cattle were driving straight toward it, as -though determined to hurl themselves and these wild riders into its -depths. - -And now the heaving backs, the tapering horns, the glaring eyes, the -shining gossamer threads of wispy spume, and the tortured dust cloud, -seemed to be flung together into the very faces of the riders. For a -moment Sibyl thought all was lost; in imagination she was being -impaled on those tapering horns. She heard Clayton yelling -encouragement. Then, with spurning feet, the horses passed through the -narrow passage; and behind them broke a bellowing tumult, as the -foremost cattle began to plunge downward into the caon. - -Sibyl reeled in her saddle, and Clayton put out his stiff hand to -support her. - -Behind them was that wild roar, where the living cascade was pouring -over the caon wall; and the danger was behind them, and past, he -thought. - -[Illustration: "Behind them broke a bellowing tumult, as the foremost -cattle began to plunge downward into the caon"] - -But suddenly the shooting torrent of bellowing animals was stopped. -The portion of the herd which had followed madly after the fleeing -riders along the wall, and had been augmented greatly in numbers, -struck this lower line. It was like the impact of two cross sections -of a landslide. The weaker gave way, over-borne and crushed; and the -larger herd streamed on, over a tangle of fallen bodies, adding to the -tangled pile and treading each other down in wild confusion. The -danger was not past. - -Clayton's stiff hand settled Sibyl's reeling form in the saddle. He -was shaking with the strain of his exertions and his emotions. His -face was set like a mask and his dark eyes glittered feverishly. - -"We must ride on!" he urged. "Just a little farther! I'll help you, -but we must ride on!" - -Returning fear put strength into her quivering body. She sat erect -once more, and again plied the ribboned whip. The horses, with sides -smoking and flanks heaving, galloped on. They had made a terrible run, -as their dripping bodies and straining red nostrils showed, but they -were still game, and they responded to this new call as nobly as to -the first. - -The section of the herd that had overwhelmed and trampled under foot -the cattle in its way, came straight on, now and then tossing an -unfortunate into the caon as a splinter is flung out from a revolving -and broken wheel. But the speedier horses drew away again. - -While hope was thus returning to Sibyl her horse went down, having -thrust a foot into a grass-grown badger hole, and she was torn from -the saddle and hurled violently through the air. She struck heavily -and lay stunned. Clayton was off his horse and at her side in an -instant, but had caution enough left to cling to his bridle rein. -Sibyl lay groaning; but when he put his strong sound arm about her, -she rose to her feet. Blood showed on her lips. - -"It's nothing," she said, as he wiped it away with his handkerchief. -"I--I think I have only cut my lip." The thunder of the approaching -hoofs frightened her. "Can you help me into the saddle?" - -She clung to him weakly. - -"Yes," he answered, supporting her. - -But when they turned to her horse he saw that in its fall it had -broken its leg. It stood helplessly by the badger hole, from which it -had scrambled, holding up that dangling leg. - -"You must take my horse!" he said. - -"And leave you here?" - -"I--I can outrun them, maybe; if I had a revolver I might stop the -foremost and get ground to stand on." - -She put her hand to her bosom and drew out a small revolver. - -"It may be foolish for a woman to carry such a weapon, but it will be -useful now." - -It was but a little thing, a woman's toy, yet he took it eagerly. - -"I can turn them aside with this; you must take my horse at once." - -He lifted her in his arms and placed her in his saddle. She did not -stop for conventionalities, but set a foot in each stirrup. - -"You can make it yet!" he panted. "Go; don't think of me; I will stop -them here!" - -He knew he could neither stop them nor turn them aside. She did not -want to leave him, but fear tore at her heart; the herd was on them -again, though the halt had been so brief. - -"Go!" he yelled, and struck the horse with the shining revolver. - -Its quick leap almost threw her, but she clutched the horn of the -saddle and raced on. - -Clayton turned to face the mad stampede. That line of tossing heads -and clicking horns was not a hundred yards away. He looked at the -little revolver and smiled. The strange light which had so startled -Justin was again in his eyes. - -"I will not leave you to be trodden to death by them, old fellow," he -said to the horse; "you deserve a better fate than that." - -With the words, he put the pistol to the head of the trembling horse -and fired. It was but a small pellet of lead, but it went true, and -the horse fell. He stepped up to its body and sent the second shot at -the leading steer. He glanced at the sky an instant, then at Sibyl -fleeing away along the caon wall in the direction of the distant -ranch buildings. The strange light deepened in his eyes. - -"I have saved her," he whispered; "and even God can die, when the -reason is great enough!" - -Sibyl did not hear those shots in the confusion that clamored behind -her, and she had not courage to look back. Having lost her ribboned -whip in the fall, she beat the horse with her gloved hand. A numbing -pain gripped her heart and made her breathing quick and heavy. At -times her sight blurred, and then fear smote hardest, for she felt -that she was falling. Yet she rode on, reeling in the deep saddle, and -when faint maintained her position by clinging to the saddle horn. At -the door of the ranch house she fell forward on the neck of the horse -and slipped in a limp heap to the ground; but she was up again, with -hand pressed to her heart, when Pearl Harkness dashed out to assist -her. - -Behind Pearl came Lucy Davison and Mary Jasper. They had heard the -thundering of hoofs, and but a minute before had seen Sibyl ride into -view at that mad pace from behind the screening stables. She had -outridden the stampeded cattle. The curving caon wall had turned them -at last, and they were beginning to mill. - -There was blood on Sibyl's lips and a look of death in her ghastly -face; yet she smiled, and tried to stand more erect, when she saw -Mary. - -"Help me into the house, please," she whispered faintly; "I--I'm -afraid I'm hurt." - -Supported by Pearl on one side and by Lucy and Mary on the other, -Sibyl entered the house. Inside the doorway she reeled and put her -hand to her eyes. She stiffened with a shudder, as she recovered. - -"I must lie down!" she gasped; but when she took another step the -blindness and faintness returned, and she fell, in spite of the -supporting arms. - -Pearl's cry of alarm and consternation reached the room where Philip -Davison lay. It was a lower room and furthest removed from the mesa, -but he had heard the rumble of the stampede. The sound of excited -voices, Sibyl's heavy fall, and that outcry from Pearl Harkness, -called back the wasted strength to his weakened body. He appeared in -the connecting doorway, half dressed, and with a blanket drawn round -his shrunken shoulders. He looked a spectre and not a man; his bearded -cheeks were hollowed, his straight nose appeared to crook over the -sunken mouth like the beak of a bird, and his blue eyes, gleaming from -cavernous sockets, stared with unnatural brightness. Seeing Sibyl on -the floor with the frightened women about her, he came forward and -offered to help. Nothing could have astounded them more than this, for -they thought he had not strength to walk. - -"Put her in the bed there," he commanded, indicating an adjoining -room. - -He stooped to assist in lifting her; but the faintness was passing, -and she showed that she was still able to assist herself. - -"Yes, put me in the bed," she panted. - -They helped her to the bed, Davison following with tottering steps, -trying to aid. Mary shook the pillow into shape and placed it under -her head. Sibyl observed her and put up her gloved hand to touch -Mary's hair. - -"You are here, dear; I--I am so glad!" - -"Where is Clayton?" said Davison, turning about. "He is needed." - -A cowboy came running into the house to report the stampede of the -cattle. - -"Let them go," Davison cried; "you ride at once for Doctor Clayton. -Tell him to come immediately." - -Pearl Harkness had hurried into the kitchen, thinking of hot-water -bags. Mary stared into Sibyl's face and inanely patted the pillow -tucked under her head. Lucy was wiping away the blood that oozed from -between Sibyl's lips. - -"Come nearer, dear," said Sibyl in a weak voice, speaking to Mary. -"Come nearer, dear; I want you to kiss me and forgive me. I--I--" - -Her ghastly features became more pinched and ghastly; her hand wavered -toward Mary's face. Mary took it and placed it against her warm, -tear-wet cheek, in the old way. - -Sibyl stared at her. - -"I--I can't see you, dear; but you have hold of my hand. The room must -be growing dark, or--or is it my eyes? The windows haven't been -closed, have they?" - -"The windows are open," said Mary; "wide open." - -Sibyl still stared at her, while Pearl bustled into the room with -cloths and a water bottle. - -"It--it is growing dark to me. I'm dying, and I know it. My--my horse -fell, and--and Clayton was with me; he is out there yet--where--where -the cattle are." - -She made another effort to see. - -"Hold--hold my hand tight, Mary; and--and please kiss me, won't you? -Hold my hand tight! I loved you, Mary--I loved you! Oh, I can't see -you--I can't see you at all! Kiss me, and forgive me. I don't want to -go into the dark! I always loved the light--the light!" - -As Mary stooped with that forgiving kiss, Sibyl touched her hair with -affection. - -"I forgive you everything," said Mary. - -"You won't believe that I truly loved you, Mary, but I did; always -remember that I did. Oh, I want the light--the light--I can't see you! -I'm afraid there isn't any light--beyond! I could bear the fires of -hell if they but gave light and I could live on. But I'm -afraid--afraid, Mary, that--that there isn't anything beyond; and that -I shall never see you again!" - -She put up her hands, gasping for breath. - -"I've been a wicked woman, but I loved you, Mary; oh, I loved you; and -I tried to shield you all I could! I oughtn't to have taken you to -Denver, but I wanted you, and I was selfish. Oh, this darkness! Open -the windows; I'm--I'm afraid of the darkness! Open the--windows; I -must--must have light!" - -But the light did not return. - -Clayton's body, mangled beyond recognition, was found near that of the -horse he had mercifully slain. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -RECONCILIATION - - -Philip Davison had an accession of strength after that and sat at his -desk through the whole of one afternoon, thinking and writing. When -Justin made his customary call in the morning and was about to turn -away, Davison bade him stay. - -"You will find some papers in the upper right hand drawer of my desk, -Justin. Get them and bring them to me." - -Justin found the papers and handed them to him. - -"Now, sit down by the bed again." - -Justin took the chair, and looked at his father, who reclined in the -bed propped with pillows. Davison had changed greatly. His hair and -beard were almost white and his blue eyes gleamed from deep sockets. -There was something pathetic in the contrast between the emaciated, -trembling father and the robust, stalwart son. Justin pitied him. - -"There are some things I want to talk to you about, Justin." His hands -trembled so much that the papers rattled as he unfolded them. "I am -not able to attend to business now, and may never be able. Fogg will -be here to-morrow, and there are some things I want to talk over with -you before he comes. He is anxious to sell out to that man from the -East. He thinks the chance is one not to be lost." - -It was the first time that Davison had offered to consult with Justin -on any subject, or had spoken to him in this manner. Justin drew his -chair closer to the bed. - -"If I can help you in any way." - -"I've got to have your help, I suppose," said Davison, with a touch of -his old petulance. "When a man is wrecked he clutches at--well, we -won't talk about that! We'll have to agree to let bygones be bygones. -I don't want to hurt your feelings, and I want to do right by you." - -He put down the papers, which he had been about to read. - -"By the way, Justin, I've been thinking a good deal about you and -Lucy. You and she are still in the notion of marrying, I suppose?" - -His voice was kindly now, and it softened still more as he beheld the -hurt expression on his son's flushed face. - -"Forget what I said just now, and I'll try to be more considerate. -This has been a terrible thing for me; how terrible I don't think you -can ever realize. I had made Ben my idol. It was foolish, of course, -but in this world men do foolish things; I have done my full share of -them. So if there is anything to be forgiven by any one I am the one -to do the forgiving." - -His hands shook again on the papers and tears came into the sunken -eyes. - -"I have forgiven Ben everything. I think he was not so much to blame -after all. I was wild, too, in my youth; and, forgetting that, I did -not bring him up right. If he had lived; that is, if----" The tears -overflowed on his cheeks, and he stopped. "But we won't talk about -that. I wish I could forget it." - -He folded the papers and spread them out again, while he sought to -gain control of his voice. - -"If you and Lucy are still in the notion of getting married, you have -my full consent to do so. You are my son, and I shall treat you as a -son should be treated; and she is my adopted daughter. So, whatever I -have is yours and hers, when I am gone." - -"You will get well!" said Justin, earnestly and with feeling. - -"Yes, I believe so!" There was a touch of the old fire now. "I think I -shall get well. I have improved lately. My head doesn't trouble me so -much, for one thing. It has cleared so that I was able to do a good -deal of writing yesterday. I shall get well, but I know I shall never -be the same; I shall never be able to take the interest in business -matters that I did. I don't seem to care what goes on in the valley -and on the ranch now. Even the loss of those cattle didn't touch me. -Once I should have felt it, just as Fogg did." - -"Lucy will be very glad to know that we have your full consent to our -marriage," Justin ventured. - -"Of course she will; and you, too. It will even please me to have you -married as soon as possible. You may live in any of the houses we have -bought that will suit you, or a new one can be built." - -He took up the papers again. - -"I shall turn the management of the place over to you until I am able -to manage it myself. You can consult with Fogg, and I will give you -what instructions I can. I hope to be strong enough in another month -to ride about, and then I can assist you even more. Fogg thinks it -would be well to sell our canal interests and a part of our land to -this Eastern man. I agree with him. I think we ought to hold a good -deal of the valley land; it's going to be valuable, when that tunnel -is cut. That man will bring in a colony of farmers and gardeners; a -good many people can live here, with the aid of the irrigation that -can be had from the Warrior River. I want to stay here, in spite of -what has happened; and you and Lucy will want to stay here. There -isn't a prettier valley in the state, and it's our home; and the sale -of a part of our land, with the cultivation of the rest of it, and the -increase in values, will make us independent." - -He began to read from the papers. To Justin's surprise they held a -list of names of men Davison had wronged and to whom he wished now to -make restitution. - -"I was over-persuaded in a good many things, and often went with Fogg -against my better judgment. But I haven't anything to say against him. -Whatever I did I am willing to shoulder. He is a first-class business -man; I admire his ability to make money, and I wanted money, for Ben. -These things I have marked here I desire made right, so far as they -can be made right. I don't want you to give away money to anybody. -Money isn't to be shaken out of every tree, except by a man like Fogg. -Pay whatever is just, but no more. The names are here, and the -amounts. I have been generous in the estimates, and you will have no -call to go farther than I have." - -He put the papers in Justin's hands. - -"There; I turn this business, and all the rest of my business, over to -you! And you and Lucy may get married as soon as you like. Consult -with Fogg concerning the land to be sold." - -The blue eyes smiled from the deep sockets, and the face was softer -and more kindly. Already Davison had a higher and more satisfactory -opinion of himself. - -"You are my son, Justin. I have no other son now; and we will try to -be to each other what we ought to have been all these years." - -"Father!" - -Justin's voice trembled; and though when he stood erect he towered -above other men, he humbled himself now as a child, and laid his first -kiss of love on his father's wasted cheek. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE DREAMS THAT CAME TRUE - - -The colony from the East had been established, and the harnessed water -was doing the will of man. At the head of the valley, where the -cultivated fields began to widen into a green expanse of gardens and -small farms, Steve Harkness stopped his buggy in the trail and awaited -the coming of another buggy he had seen issue from the town. With -Harkness sat Pearl and Helen, the latter a slender, awkward girl now, -but in the eyes of her father beautiful beyond the power of words to -express. The three were dressed in their best--they had been attending -church. Harkness shook out his handkerchief to wipe his perspiring -face--church services always made him perspire freely--and the scent -of cinnamon drops thickened the air. - -"It's Justin and Lucy coming," said Pearl. - -"Yes, I knowed it was; that's why I pulled in. I don't reckon a -handsomer couple rides this valley trail, present company always -accepted. Davison was with 'em at church, but I s'pose he stopped in -town to take dinner with some one." - -Harkness tucked his handkerchief into his pocket and looked down the -valley, where the fruitful fields were smiling. In the midst of the -fields and the gardens were many houses and clumps of shade trees. The -flat-topped mountain behind the town lay against the bosom of the -summer sky like a great cameo. A Sabbath peace was on the land, and a -great peace was in the heart of Steve Harkness. - -"It's nice to have a home," he declared thoughtfully, as he looked at -the quiet valley, "and it's nice to see other people have homes. But -until a man is married and has one of his own he don't know how 'tis." - -Pearl glanced down at her dress of China silk and settled its folds -comfortably and proudly about her. - -"I think farming is better than the cattle business, anyway." - -"Yes, farmin' this way, with irrigation; irrigation with plenty of -water beats rainfall in any country under the sun. I'm satisfied. But -you don't never hear me saying anything ag'inst the cattle business; -it's all right, and it will continue in this country fer a good many -years yit. But Paradise Valley was cut out fer farmers and their -homes. I'm always reckonin' that the Lord understood his business when -he made men and land and cattle. The valleys that can be irrigated fer -the farmers, and the high dry land that can't be fer the men that want -to raise cattle. And things will always come out right, if you'll only -give 'em time. It's been proved right here." - -When, after pleasant greetings, Harkness had driven on, Justin, who -did not care to proceed straight home on that beautiful day, turned -into the trail that led to the higher land on the edge of the mesa, -where the view of the valley was better. Coming out upon the highest -point, they saw the valley spread wide before them, green as an -emerald. The few groves were many times multiplied. On every hand were -homes, girt by gardens and embowered in flowers. Irrigating canals and -laterals glittered like threads of silver. Warrior River, uniting with -Paradise Creek, had furnished means for the transformation of the -desert, and it was literally blossoming as the rose. - -Thus surveying the valley, Justin saw the fulfillment of the dream of -the dreamer, Peter Wingate. More, he had the satisfaction of knowing -that in the position he held, that of superintendent and manager of -the irrigating company, he had done his full share in bringing that -dream to its beautiful realization. He had helped to make the one-time -desert bloom. Years had run their course, yet the dream had come true. -He had prospered also, not only financially, but in other ways; he was -in the state senate now, the position Fogg had held. And, though he -was a farmer and irrigator, he was, also, a ranchman. - -As he sat thus viewing the smiling valley, with his wife beside him, -seeing there the fulfillment of the dream of the preacher, Justin -turned to her whom he loved best of all in the world. Looking into her -eyes, where wifely love had established itself, he beheld there the -fulfillment of another dream; and beholding it, he bent his head and -kissed her. - -"Lucy," he said, with tender earnestness, "this, too, is Paradise." - - - - -By the Author of "The Rainbow Chasers" - -BARBARA, A WOMAN OF THE WEST - -By JOHN H. WHITSON - -Illustrated by C. C. Emerson. 12mo. $1.50 - -Third Edition - -Barbara, the heroine of Mr. Whitson's first Western novel, is the -loyal wife of a self-centred man of literary tastes, living on a ranch -in Kansas. "Barbara is a fresh, breezy sort of a girl; and the account -of her life and ultimate happiness, as described by Mr. Whitson, makes -one of the best stories of the season," says the St. Paul Globe. - -"We are carried from one scene to another with an ease and -expeditiousness that plainly betokens the author's familiarity with -the length and breadth of the Western country, and the people he so -vividly portrays," says the San Francisco News-Letter. - -Hon. John D. Long, ex-Secretary of the Navy, in a letter to the -author, says: "You have the story-teller's art. I like especially -those portions of the book which treat of Western scenes and -life--the homestead, the plain, the prairie, the pioneer's experience, -the mining camp, Cripple Creek, and Pike's Peak. You bring out the -growth of the country, the speculative ups and downs, the mountain -curves of the narrow railroads; and the winter scene with the -dangerous trip over the mountain from Feather Bow is very graphic." - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers - -BOSTON, MASS. - - - - -A Stirring Tale of the Plains - -THE RAINBOW CHASERS - -By JOHN H. WHITSON - -Author of "Barbara, A Woman of the West" - -Full of the atmosphere of the West, with Dick Brewster, alias Jackson -Blake, cowboy, land speculator, and lover, for its hero, Mr. Whitson's -new novel, without being in the least a copy, has many of the -attractions of Mr. Wister's hero, "The Virginian." - -"The Rainbow Chasers" is a virile American novel with its principal -scenes laid in Western Kansas during the land boom of '85. The male -characters are vigorous men, with red blood in their veins; and the -heroine, Elinor Spencer, is a high-spirited but lovable Western girl. - -The Brooklyn Eagle says:-- - -"It is a picturesque narrative, striking in its portrayal of -conditions that have vanished. It is one of those works of fiction -which, like 'The Virginian,' deserve to rank as books of social and -economic history, because of the picturing of conditions, vital while -they existed, that have passed away." - -With 6 illustrations by Arthur E. Becher. 393 pages. - -12 mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50 - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers, BOSTON - -At all Booksellers - - - - -"A Spell-binding Creation"--Lilian Whiling - -MYSTERIOUS MR. SABIN - -By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM - -Author of "A Prince of Sinners," "Anna the Adventuress," etc. - -Illustrated. 397 pages. 12mo. $1.50 - -Deals with an intrigue of international moment--the fomenting of a war -between Great Britain and Germany and the restoration of the Bourbon -monarchy in France as a consequence. Intensely readable for the -dramatic force with which the story is told, the absolute originality -of the underlying creative thought, and the strength of all the men -and women who fill the pages.--Pittsburg Times. - -Not for long has so good a story of the kind been published, and the -book is the more commendable because the literary quality of its -construction has not been slighted. He whose pulses are not -quickened by the tale must be jaded and phlegmatic indeed.--Chicago -Record-Herald. - -For a good, grippy story, it is the best of the present season's -output.--Cleveland Leader. - -Mr. Oppenheim possesses the magic art of narration.--New York Herald. - -If we forget all else in the story, we will remember Mr. Sabin, and -freely account him a man of mark among the thronging characters of -latter-day literature.--Boston Courier. - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers, BOSTON - -At all Booksellers - - - - -A Powerful American Novel - -THE VISION OF ELIJAH BERL - -By FRANK LEWIS NASON - -Author of "The Blue Goose" and "To the End of the Trail" - -12mo. Decorated cloth. $1.50 - -Mr. Nason's new novel deals with the beginnings of orange growing in -California by irrigation. Elijah Berl, a New Englander, emigrates to -California, and dreams of the time when the barren region in which he -has settled shall "blossom as the rose." Engineering ambitions, the -formation of a company for the development of the orange industry, the -building of an irrigation dam, and the collapse of a land boom, -furnish the author material for a well-constructed plot. - - -A Story of Adventure, Intrigue, and Love - -A PRINCE OF LOVERS - -By SIR WILLIAM MAGNAY - -Author of "The Red Chancellor," etc. - -Illustrated by Cyrus Cuneo. 12mo. $1.50 - -In this new novel by Sir William Magnay, the heroine, "Princess -Ruperta," a princess of the blood royal, sick of the monotony and -unreality of Court, goes out one night, incognito, with her maid. -Danger unexpectedly threatens her, and when she is gallantly rescued -from this danger by a young and handsome stranger, it is not unnatural -that (betrothed compulsorily as she is for State reasons to a royal -person whom she has never seen) love is born in the heart of the -Princess as well as in that of her unknown rescuer. Then follows a -series of adventures brilliantly imagined and enthrallingly told. - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers - -BOSTON, MASS. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Justin Wingate, Ranchman, by John H. Whitson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN *** - -***** This file should be named 42423-8.txt or 42423-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/4/2/42423/ - -Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Whitson - -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: Justin Wingate, Ranchman - -Author: John H. Whitson - -Illustrator: Arthur E. Becher - -Release Date: March 28, 2013 [EBook #42423] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark - - - - - -</pre> - +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42423 ***</div> <div class='image-center'> <img src='images/cover.jpg' id='cover' class='img-limits' alt=''/> @@ -9050,379 +9014,6 @@ series of adventures brilliantly imagined and enthrallingly told.</p> <p class='center'>BOSTON, MASS.</p> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Justin Wingate, Ranchman, by John H. Whitson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN *** - -***** This file should be named 42423-h.htm or 42423-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/4/2/42423/ - -Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Justin Wingate, Ranchman - -Author: John H. Whitson - -Illustrator: Arthur E. Becher - -Release Date: March 28, 2013 [EBook #42423] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: "With a boldness that gripped his throat he slipped his -hand along the back of the arbor seat"] - - - - -JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN - -By - -John H. Whitson - -Author of "The Rainbow Chasers," "Barbara, a Woman of the West," etc. - -With Illustrations from Drawings by - -Arthur E. Becker - -Boston - -Little, Brown, and Company - - - - -Copyright, 1905, - -by Little, Brown, and Company. - -All rights reserved. - -Published April, 1905. - -Printers, S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, U. S. A. - - - - -CONTENTS - - BOOK ONE--THE PREPARATION - - CHAPTER I--THE DREAMER AND THE DREAM - CHAPTER II--WINGATE JOURNEYS ON - CHAPTER III--CLAYTON'S VISITORS - CHAPTER IV--SIBYL - CHAPTER V--THE INVASION OF PARADISE - CHAPTER VI--WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG - CHAPTER VII--WILLIAM SANDERS - CHAPTER VIII--AND MARY WENT TO DENVER - CHAPTER IX--A REVELATION OF CHARACTER - CHAPTER X--PIPINGS OF PAN - CHAPTER XI--THE TRAGEDY OF THE RANGE - CHAPTER XII--WITH SIBYL AND MARY - CHAPTER XIII--WHEN AMBITION CAME - CHAPTER XIV--IN THE STORM - CHAPTER XV--A FLASH OF LIGHTNING - CHAPTER XVI--BEN DAVISON'S TRIUMPH - - BOOK TWO--THE BATTLE - - CHAPTER I--COWARDICE AND HEROISM - CHAPTER II--THE HARVEST OF THE FIRE - CHAPTER III--LEES OF THE WINE - CHAPTER IV--IN THE WHIRLPOOL - CHAPTER V--HARKNESS AND THE SEER - CHAPTER VI--THE MOTH AND THE FLAME - CHAPTER VII--THE COMPACT - CHAPTER VIII--THE THRALL OF THE PAST - CHAPTER IX--SANDERS TELLS HIS STORY - CHAPTER X--IN THE CRUCIBLE - CHAPTER XI--FATHER AND SON - CHAPTER XII--CHANGING EVENTS - CHAPTER XIII--IN PARADISE VALLEY - CHAPTER XIV--THE DOWNWARD WAY - CHAPTER XV--MARY'S DESPAIR - CHAPTER XVI--THE WAGES OF SIN - CHAPTER XVII--SHADOWS BEFORE - CHAPTER XVIII--PHILOSOPHY GONE MAD - CHAPTER XIX--SIBYL AND CLAYTON - CHAPTER XX--THE RIDE WITH DEATH - CHAPTER XXI--RECONCILIATION - CHAPTER XXII--THE DREAMS THAT CAME TRUE - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - "With a boldness that gripped his throat he slipped his hand along - the back of the arbor seat" - - "The woman sitting there on her chafing horse stared back at him" - - "Sanders twisted round in his chair and began to draw from his - pocket a grimy memorandum book" - - "Behind them broke a bellowing tumult, as the foremost cattle - began to plunge downward into the canon" - - - - -JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN - - - - -BOOK ONE--THE PREPARATION - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE DREAMER AND THE DREAM - - -Before swinging out of the saddle in front of the little school -house which was serving as a church, Curtis Clayton, physician and -philosopher, looked over the valley which held the story of a romantic -hope and where he was to bury his own shattered dream. The rain of the -morning had cleared away the bluish ground haze, the very air had been -washed clean, and the land lay revealed in long levels and undulating -ridges. Behind towered the mountain, washed clean, too, its flat top -etched against the sky and every crag and peak standing out sharp and -hard as a cameo. - -Clayton's broncho pawed restlessly on the edge of a grass-grown -cellar. All about the tiny cluster of unoccupied houses were other -grass-grown cellars, and the foundation lines of vanished buildings, -marking the site of the abandoned town. Beside the school house, from -which came now the sound of singing, horses were tied to a long -hitching rack. A few farm wagons stood near, the unaccustomed mud -drying on their wheels. - -Clayton dismounted and began to tie his horse. His left arm, stiff and -bent at the elbow, swung awkwardly and gave such scant aid that he -tightened the knot of the hitching strap by pulling it with his teeth. -He was dressed smartly, in dust-proof gray, and wore polished riding -boots. His unlined face showed depression and weariness. In spite of -this it was a handsome face, lighted by clear dark eyes. The brow, -massive and prominent, was the brow of a thinker. Over it, beneath the -riding cap, was a tangle of dark hair, now damp and heavy. When he -spoke to his horse his tones were suggestive of innate kindness. There -were no spurs on the heels of his riding boots, and he patted the -horse affectionately before turning to the door of the church. - -The interior was furnished as a school house. Cramped into the seats, -with feet drawn up and arms on the tops of the desks, sat the few -people who composed the congregation, young farmers and their wives -and small children, with wind-burned, honest faces. Apart from the -others was a boy, whose slight form fitted easily into the narrow -space he occupied. He sat well forward and looked steadily at the -preacher, turning about, however, as all did, when Clayton came in at -the door. - -Clayton's entrance and the turning about of the people to look broke -the rhythmic swing of the hymn, but the preacher, standing behind the -teacher's desk which served as pulpit, lifted his voice, beating the -time energetically with the book he held, and the hymn was caught up -again with vigor. He smiled upon Clayton, as the latter squeezed into -a rear seat, as if to assure him that he was welcome and had disturbed -no one. - -The preacher took his text from the thirty-fifth chapter of Isaiah: - -"The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the -desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom -abundantly, and rejoice even with joy and singing.... Strengthen ye -the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees. Say to them that are of -a fearful heart, 'Be strong, fear not.'" - -Clayton was not greatly interested in the Scripture read, in the -preacher, nor in the people. He had entered to get away from his own -thoughts more than anything else. But, weary of thinking, he tried now -to let the preacher lead him out of himself. - -His attention was caught and held by the application of the text. The -preacher was using it not as a spiritual metaphor, but as a promise to -be fulfilled literally and materially in the near future and in that -place. Looking through the open windows at the level grasslands damp -with the recent rain, he saw the good omen. The desert was there now, -but men should till it and it should blossom as the rose; yellow grain -fields should billow before the breezes that came down from the -mountain; the blue bloom of alfalfa should make of the valley a violet -cup spilling its rich perfume on the air and offering its treasure of -honey for the ravishing of the bee; rice corn, Kaffir corn, and -sorghum should stand rank on rank, plumed, tufted, and burnished by -the sunlight. Paradise--Clayton heard the name of the valley and the -town for the first time--should become as the Garden of God. - -Clayton saw that the man was a dreamer, putting into form the -cherished hopes of the people in the narrow seats before him. A land -boom had cast high its tide of humanity, then had receded, leaving -these few caught as the drift on the shore. The preacher was one of -them; and he looked into their eyes with loving devotion and flushing -face, as he contrasted the treeless valley of the present with the -Paradise of his desire. He was a dreamer who believed his dream and -was trying to make his hearers believe it. - -At first Clayton had observed the outer man standing behind that -teacher's desk; he had noted the shabby, shiny suit of black, -scrupulously clean, the coat much too long and every way too large, -the white neatly-set cravat, and the protruding cuffs, which he was -sure were scissors-trimmed. Now he looked only at the man's face, with -its soft brown beard which the wind stirred at intervals, at the -straight goodly nose, at the deep-set dreamy eyes, and through the -eyes into the mind of the dreamer. - -"The temperament of a seer, of a Druid priest, of a prophet of old!" -was his thought. "He prophesies the impossible; yet by and by some one -may appear who will be able to show that the impossible has had -fulfillment. It has happened before." - -Willing to forget himself further and know more of this man who, it -could be seen, longed for a mental companionship which the members of -his congregation could not give him, Clayton remained after the -services, accepting a pressing invitation to tarry awhile. - -"We do not often have visitors here now," said the preacher, -pathetically. - -So through the hot afternoon they sat together in the preacher's -little home, the one occupied house in the town, while he dilated on -his dream; and as the day grew cool, they walked together by the banks -of the tepid stream and looked at the deserted houses and the blaze of -the sun behind the flat-topped mountain. The boy who had sat so far -forward and given such apparent attention to the sermon walked out -with them. Absorbed in studying the personality of the preacher, -Clayton gave the silent boy little attention. - -As the sun slipped down behind the mountain, throwing pleasant shadows -across the valley, Clayton took his horse from the preacher's stable -and set out for a ride. And as he went the preacher stood in his -doorway, smiling and dreaming his dream. - -From his boyhood, Peter Wingate had been a dreamer. In his college -days the zeal of the missionary was infused into his veins, and the -Far West, which he pictured as a rough land filled with rough and -Godless men, drew him. He had found it poorer than the East, more -direct and simple, more serious and sincere, but not Godless. And he -had come to love it. It was a hopeful, toiling land, rough perhaps, -but as yet unspoiled. - -Then a day came which brought a new interest into his life. A youth -climbed down from a white-topped prairie schooner with a bundle in his -arms and entered the preacher's house. The bundle held a baby, whose -mother had died in the white-topped wagon. As the youth, who was -almost a man in stature, but still a boy in years, told the story of -the child, and placed in Wingate's hands its few belongings, he spoke -of Paradise. At first the spiritual-minded minister thought he -referred to spiritual things, then understood that he was speaking of -a new town, situated in a wonderful valley that widened down from the -mountains. Thenceforth, though the child had not come from this new -town, this new town and its promise became linked in the minister's -mind with the child; and by and by he journeyed to it, when the boy -was well-grown and sturdy and the town had been caught up suddenly in -the whirl of a wild boom. - -He began to preach in the new school house, and organized a new -church; and soon the fiery earnestness and optimism of the boom was -infused into his heart, supplementing the zeal of the missionary. He -no longer saw Paradise as it was, but as he wished it to be. The very -name allured him. He had long preached of a spiritual Paradise; here -was the germ of an earthly one. From rim to rim, from mountain to -mesa, it was, to his eyes, a favored valley, fitted for happy homes. -The town vanished, and the settlers departed, but the dream remained. -The dreamer still saw the possibilities and the beauties--the fruitful -soil, the sun-kissed grassy slopes, the alluring blue mountains. And -the dream was associated with the child; the dreamer, the dream, and -the child, were as one, for had not the child brought to the dreamer -his first knowledge of this smiling land? - -So Wingate remained after the boom bubble broke, encouraging the few -sturdy farmers who clung with fondness to the valley. Even when one by -one the houses, all but those belonging to the town company, were torn -down and borne away, the dream was not shattered. The dreamer became -the agent of the company, charged with the care of the remaining -houses until the dream should reach again toward fulfillment. - -While he waited, the dreamer pictured the joy and devotion with which -he would minister to the spiritual needs of the new people, who would -love him he knew even as he should love them. And thus waiting, he -moved the rounds of his simple life, in the midst of the few, who -rewarded his love and zeal with ever-renewed devotion. Even those who -cared nothing for religion cared for the religious teacher, and came -regularly to hear him preach. - -They could not give much to his support; they had not much themselves, -but he needed so very little. He had his small stipend from the -missionary organization of his denomination, the garden he tended on -the low land by the stream yielded well in the favorable seasons, and -the missionary barrel filled with clothing which some worthy ladies -had sent him from the East two years before had held such a goodly -store of cast-off garments that neither he nor the child, a stout boy -now, had required anything in that line since. The shiny, long-tailed -coat which he kept so scrupulously clean and which was a world too -large for him, and the tight-fitting, ink-spattered sailor suit which -the boy wore, had come from the depths of that barrel, which seemed as -miraculous in its way as the widow's cruse of oil. - -And now, when he had seen no stranger in Paradise for months, and no -new face except when he journeyed once a week to preach in the little -railroad town at the base of the mountain, there had come this -pleasant-voiced man, who spoke well of the prophetic sermon and seemed -able to appreciate the promise and future of the land. - -When Curtis Clayton returned from his ride night had fallen. The Milky -Way had stretched its shining trail across the prairies of the sky, -and the Dipper was pouring the clouds out of its great bowl and -shaking them from its handle. - -Clayton sat looking at the night sky, and as he sat thus the boy came -out to put away his horse. Within the house, Wingate, busy with coffee -pot and frying pan, directed him to the room he was to occupy, and -announced that supper would be ready soon. - -At the end of fifteen minutes the boy tapped on Clayton's door. The -latch had not caught, and the door flew open. The boy stood in -hesitation, looking into the little room, wondering if he had -offended. What he beheld puzzled him. Clayton had been burning letters -in the tiny stove; and beside the lamp on the little table, with -scorched edges still smoking, stood the photograph of a beautiful -woman. Clayton had evidently committed it to the flames, and then -relenting had drawn it back. Turning quickly now, when he heard the -door moving on its hinges, he caught up the photograph and thrust it -hastily into an inner pocket of his coat, but not before the boy had -been given a clear view of the pictured face. - -Wingate talked of his dream, when grace had been said and the supper -was being eaten. The boy thought of the burned letters and of the -scorched photograph showing that alluringly beautiful face, and -wondered blindly. He saw that the stranger was not listening to the -talk of the minister; and observed, too, what the dreamer did not, -that the stranger ate very little, and without apparent relish. Though -he could not define it, and did not at all understand it, something in -the man's face and manner moved him to sympathy. - -For that reason, when, after supper, the minister had talked to the -end of his dream and was about to begin all over again, the boy -slipped away, and returning put a small book into the stranger's -hands. Clayton stared at it, then looked up, and for the first time -saw the boy. He had already seen a face and form and a sailor suit, -but not the boy. Now he looked into the clear open blue eyes, set in -an attractive, wind-tanned face. His features lost their grim sadness -and he smiled. - -"Your son?" he said, speaking to Wingate. - -The dreamer showed surprise. He had already spoken to this man of the -boy. - -"My adopted son, but a real son to me in all but the ties of blood." - -The boy drew open the little Bible he had placed in Clayton's hands. -Some writing showed on the fly-leaf. The boy's fore-finger fell on the -writing. - -"My very own mother wrote those words, and my name there--Justin," he -announced, reverently. - -Clayton looked at the writing, and then again at the boy. The record -on the fly-leaf was but a simple memorandum, in faded ink: - -"Justin, my baby boy, is now six months old. May God bless and -preserve him and may he become a good man." - -A date showed, in addition to this, but that was all; not even the -mother's name was signed. - -"This was in it, too; it is my hair." - -The boy pulled the book open at another place and extracted a brown -wisp. - -"We think it is his hair," said Wingate. "It was found beside the -writing on the fly-leaf." - -Then while the boy crowded close against Clayton's knees, and Clayton -sat holding the open Bible in his hands, Wingate told the story of -this child, who now bore the name of Justin Wingate. - -"The young fellow who brought him to me said there were some papers, -which he had left behind, having forgotten them when he set out, and -that he would fetch them later. But he never came again,--he was only -a boy, and boys forget--and I even failed to get his name, being -somewhat excited at the time, because of the strange charge given to -me, a bachelor minister." - -Clayton read the words over slowly, and looked intently at the boy. - -"It is a good name," he said at length. - -The boy took the book and placed the wisp of hair carefully between -the pages as he closed it. He was still standing close against the -knees of this man, as if he desired to help or comfort him, or longed -for a little of the real father love he had never known. But Clayton, -after that simple statement, dropped into silence. This absence of -speech was not observed by Wingate, who had found in the story of the -boy an opportunity to take up again the narrative of his introduction -to Paradise and his life there since. Yet the boy noticed. His face -flushed slowly; and when Clayton still remained mute and unresponsive, -he slipped away, with a choke in his throat. - -Shortly afterward he said good night to the visitor, kissed the -dreamer on his bearded cheek, and with the Bible still in his hands -crept away to bed. Wingate sat up until a late hour, talking of his -dream, receiving now and then a monosyllabic assent to some prophetic -statement. Having started at last to his room Clayton hesitated on the -threshold and turned back. - -"As you are the agent of the town company you could let one of those -houses, I suppose?" was his unexpected inquiry. - -The face of the dreamer flushed with pleasure. - -"Most assuredly." - -"Then you may consider one of them rented--to me; it doesn't matter -which one. I think I should like to stop here awhile." - -It was one o'clock and the Sabbath was past. Wingate, his dream more -vivid than it had been for months, sat down at his little writing -desk, and in a fever of renewed hope began to pen a letter to the town -company, announcing the letting of a house and prophesying an early -revival of the boom. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -WINGATE JOURNEYS ON - - -Justin Wingate tip-toed softly to and fro in front of the improvised -book shelves and looked at the formidable array of books which, -together with some furniture, had arrived for Clayton, and had been -brought out from the town. The books were of a different character -entirely from those which composed the minister's scanty collection. -Justin read the names slowly, without comprehension--"Spencer's -Synthetic Philosophy," "Darwin's Origin of Species," "Tyndall's Forms -of Water," and hard-worded titles affixed to volumes of the German -metaphysicians. There were medical books too, a great many it seemed -to the boy, in leather bindings, with gilt titles set in black squares -on the backs. - -Clayton came in while Justin was tip-toeing before the book shelves. -His appearance and manner had changed for the better. He looked at the -boy with kindly interest, and was almost cheerful. - -"Do you think you would like to become an educated man, Justin?" - -The boy's eyes shone. - -"I don't know. Would I have to read all of those?" - -A smile twitched the corners of Clayton's dark eyes. - -"Not all of them at once, and perhaps some of them never. At any rate -we wouldn't try to begin so high up as that." - -He sat down and began to question the boy concerning his acquirements, -and found they were not inconsiderable, for the lonely minister had -tried to be faithful to his trust. Except in one line, the Scriptural, -the faculty of the imagination had alone been neglected; and that -seemed strange, for Peter Wingate was so quiveringly imaginative that -he lived perpetually in a dream world which he believed to be real. -Justin had never heard of the Greek gods and demi-gods; the brothers -Grimm, Hans Christian Andersen, the Arabian Nights, were unknown names -to him; he had never visited Liliput and the land of the giants with -Gulliver, nor even gone sailing romantic seas and living in blissful -and lonely exile with Robinson Crusoe and Friday. Yet he knew all the -wonderful and attractive stories of the Bible. The friendship of David -and Jonathan was as real to him as the love that existed between -himself and the minister. He knew the height of Goliath, and had even -measured on the ground, with the minister's help, the length of that -giant's spear. He had seen the baby Moses drawn from his cradled nest -in the bulrushes; had witnessed the breaking pitchers and the flashing -lights of Gideon's band; and had watched in awed wonder when, at the -command of Joshua, the sun had stopped over Gideon and the moon had -hung suspended above the valley of Ajalon. - -Clayton's dark eyes looked into the blue eyes of the boy as they -talked, and the choking ache which had been in his heart when he came -to that lonely home in that lonely valley all but ceased. - -"You haven't missed so very much after all, Justin. I guess there -aren't any better stories than those you know anywhere in the world. -But you know them so well now that we will begin on something else." - -Stepping to a box he drew out a book. When he came back with it Justin -recognized the title, "Robinson Crusoe," for he had once heard the -minister mention it in a sermon. - -"Is it a story?" he asked, eagerly. - -"One of the best stories ever written, I think. It has made boys run -away to sea, I've been told, but I don't believe you will be harmed by -it in that way. Seven-league boots would be needed to run away to sea -from here. So we'll risk reading it." - -He sat down and began to read; and the boy, standing close against his -knees as on that first night, felt a strange warmth steal through him. -He wanted to put his arms around the neck of this man; and when at -length Clayton in shifting his position dropped a hand softly on the -boy's shoulder and let it rest there as he read on, the inner warmth -so increased in the heart of the boy that he could hardly follow the -story, fascinating as it was. - -What may be called Justin's course of instruction under Clayton began -that day, after Clayton had talked with Wingate and asked the -privilege of ordering certain books for Justin. The mail of a few days -later brought "Treasure Island." - -"A wild book and a bloody one," said Clayton, as he took it from its -wrapping, while Justin looked on expectantly, "but a little wildness -will be a good thing in this stagnation, and the blood in such a book -doesn't hurt a boy who isn't bloody-minded. I think there must have -been pirates who went about bludgeoning folks in the days of the -cave-dwellers, and certainly books about pirates couldn't have made -those fellows what they were." - -It was a delight to instruct such a natural, inquisitive, imaginative -boy as Justin. And the lessons were not confined to books. Clayton had -a little glass which he slipped in and out of his pocket at intervals -as he walked about with the boy. Looking through that glass the -greenish stuff that appeared on the stones by the margin of the tepid -stream was revealed as a beautiful green moss, the tufted head of a -dusty weed was seen to be set with white lilies, and tiny specks -became strange crawling and creeping things. Suddenly Justin had found -that the very air, the earth, even the water in the tepid pools of the -stream, swarmed with life, and it was an astonishing revelation. And -everywhere was order, and beauty of form and coloring; for even a -common rock, broken and viewed through that glass, showed beautiful -diamond-like crystals. - -One day Clayton plucked the leaf of a weed and holding it beneath the -glass let Justin look at it. - -"It's covered all over with fuzzy hairs!" - -Clayton plucked another of a different kind. - -"Isn't it funny? You can't see them, only through the glass, but the -edges are spiked, just as if there were little thorns set all along -it!" - -Clayton sat down, toying with the weeds and the glass. - -"What do you suppose those spikes and hairs are for?" - -"I don't know." - -"Perhaps no one really knows, but men may have theories. See that -little moth moving now across the weed blade. He is on the under side, -and the hairs help him to hold on. When he reaches the edge and wishes -to climb over, the hairs and the spikes help him to do that. That -shows, to me at least, that nature provides as completely for a moth -as for a man, and that God cares as much for the one as for the other; -only man, having a very high opinion of himself, doesn't think so. -Aha! Mr. Moth's wings are wet and he is having some trouble; we'll see -if we can help him." - -He stretched out his hand to turn the grass blade over, and in doing -so crushed the moth; it was his half useless left hand, heavy and -clumsy. His face flushed as he looked at his crooked arm, and then at -the moth, its mail of silver dust smeared over the green, sword-like -blade. - -"Poor little thing," he said. - -He put away the glass and rose, and there was no further lesson that -morning. - -Sometimes Justin rode forth with him on a visit to the home of a -settler. All knew him soon, and were glad of his coming. That he -appeared to have established himself permanently in one of the -abandoned houses of the town gave them selfish pleasure, for it was -good to have a doctor near. - -Often Clayton rode forth alone, spending whole days off in the hills, -or on the level lands stretching away from their base. He found Justin -always watching for him when he returned, and he never failed to bring -home something of interest in the shape of a crystal, a flower, a -lichen, or mayhap an abandoned bird's nest, which furnished either a -lesson or food for conversation. - -Always on his return from any trip, far or near, Wingate questioned -him with anxious yearning. Were the farmers still hopeful, what crops -looked most promising, did the deceptive clouds about the mountain -promise rain, had he seen any land-hunters or white-topped schooners -on the trail? And when Clayton had answered, the dreamer talked of his -dream. He was sure of its fulfillment some day. - -"A baseless dream," thought Clayton; "but all dreams are baseless, -gaudy, unsubstantial things, wrought by hope and fancy out of -foundationless air, and to shatter his dream would be to shatter his -heart." - -As he returned one day, Clayton beheld in the trail the vanishing -wheels of the mail carrier's cart and saw Justin running toward him in -great excitement. Quickening the pace of his horse he was soon at the -boy's side. - -"Father--Mr. Wingate--has--had a fit, or something. He's lying on the -floor and won't speak to me, and I can't lift him." - -Clayton leaped from the saddle and rushed into the house, with Justin -at his heels. The preacher lay on the floor, with arms spread out. -Beneath him was an open letter, across which he had fallen. Clayton -made a hurried examination, and with Justin's aid placed him on the -low bed. Picking up the letter he glanced at it. It was from the -secretary of the town company, and was apparently an answer to one -which Wingate had sent: - - "Mr. Peter Wingate. - - "My Dear Sir:--We regret that we cannot view the prospects of the - town and valley of Paradise as hopefully as you do. In fact we - have concluded to abandon it definitely and permanently, and to - that end we have sold all the buildings. The agent of the - purchaser will visit you at once and make arrangements for their - removal. - - "Very truly yours, - "Royce Gilbert, - "Secretary Paradise Land and Town Company." - -"Is he--very sick?" wailed the boy anxiously. - -Clayton dropped the letter to the floor, and swinging about in his -chair drew Justin to him, pressing him close against his heart. There -were tears in his eyes and his voice choked. - -"Justin," he said, "you will need to be a very brave boy now; Mr. -Wingate is dead." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -CLAYTON'S VISITORS - - -When jack-screws and moving teams had done their work in the town of -Paradise but one house remained, the minister's, and that only because -Curtis Clayton had purchased it and moved into it, with Justin. The -farmers of the valley wondered that he should remain, but tempered -their surprise with gratitude. - -He and Justin seemed even more closely linked now. But not even to -Justin did he ever speak of why he had come to the valley or why he -tarried. The coming appeared to have been a thing of chance, as when a -batted ball rolling to some obscure corner of the field stops there -because no force is applied to move it farther. If there was any -observable change in him after Wingate's death, it was that he became -more restless. The mind of the dreamer, in its workings somewhat akin -to his own, yet with a simple faith which he did not possess, had -soothed and rested him. - -Clayton wore out his increased restlessness by long walks with Justin, -abandoning the rides apparently because he disliked to leave the boy -alone. But his fame as a doctor was spreading through the -thinly-settled country, and when forced away from home by calls he -left Justin at the house of some farmer, usually that of Sloan Jasper, -for there the boy found pleasant companionship in the person of Mary -Jasper, a dark-eyed girl, with winning, mischievous ways and cheeks -like wild rose petals. Time never hung heavily with Justin at Sloan -Jasper's. - -In addition to his work of instructing Justin, and his reading, -Clayton spent much time in writing, in the little room which the -minister had fitted up as a study. Sometimes Justin was given the -privilege of dusting this room, and once when so engaged he whisked -from the table the scorched photograph he had seen before. Clayton had -evidently been looking at it, had placed it under a large blotter, and -then had neglected to put it away before admitting Justin. The boy -stared intently into the beautiful face shadowed forth on that bit of -cardboard, for he wondered; then he replaced it beneath the blotter -and resumed his dusting. But a question had arisen in his heart. - -To give Justin pleasant occupation and make the time pass more -rapidly, Clayton purchased a few sheep and placed the boy over them as -a herder; and, as if to furnish diversion for himself, he assisted -Justin in building a sod-walled corral and sod shelters for the sheep. - -It was a delight to Justin to guard the sheep on the grassy slopes and -drive them to the tepid water-holes. Often he did this in company with -Mary Jasper; he on foot, or high on Clayton's horse, the rosy-cheeked -girl swaying at his side on her lazy gray burro, which she had to beat -continually with a small cudgel if she progressed at all. - -Once Clayton remonstrated with her for what he deemed her cruelty to -the beast. - -"Doctor Clayton," she said severely, wrinkling her small forehead, -"the only way to make this critter go is to kill him; that's what my -paw says!" and she swayed on, pounding the burro's back with the stick -and kicking his sides energetically with her bare heels. - -Yet the valley life was lonely, so that the coming of any one was an -event; and it was a red-letter day when Lemuel Fogg drifted in with -his black-topped, wine-colored photograph wagon, and William Sanders -with his dirty prairie schooner. Fogg was a fat young man, whose -mustache drooped limply over a wide good-humored mouth, and whose -round face was splotched yellow with large freckles. Sanders was even -younger than Fogg. He lacked Fogg's buoyancy and humor, had shrewd -little gray eyes that peered and pried, and slouched about in shabby -ill-fitting clothing. Clayton gave them both warm welcome, and they -remained with him over night. - -Sanders, who was alone in his wagon, was looking for land on which to -settle. Apparently Fogg's present business was to take photographs, -and he began by taking one of Justin standing in the midst of his -sheep, with Mary Jasper sitting on her burro beside him, her bare feet -and ankles showing below her dusty gray dress. - -In addition to the land, which he looked over carefully with his -shrewd little eyes, Sanders cast furtive glances at Clayton's stiff -arm. He ventured to word a question, when he and Fogg sat with Justin -and Clayton in the little study after supper, surrounded by Clayton's -books and papers, while the sheep were securely housed in the sod -corral and the unrelenting wind piped insistently round the house. - -"'Tain't any my business as I know of," he began, apologetically, "but -I can't help lookin' at that arm o' your'n, and wonderin' what made it -so. I had my fortune told onc't by a man who had an arm like that, and -he said a tiger bit it. He was an East Injun, er a Malay, I reckon. It -come to me that you might have met with an accident sometime, er -somethin' er 'nuther? There's a story about it, I reckon?" - -The blood rushed in a wave to Clayton's face and appeared to suffuse -even his dark eyes. He did not answer the question, being sensitive on -the subject, and deeming it an impertinence. - -Sanders waited a time, while Fogg talked; then he returned to his -inquiry, with even greater emphasis. - -"Yes, there is a story," said Clayton, speaking slowly, after a moment -of hesitation, while a ghastly smile took the attractiveness out of -his thoughtful countenance. "It wasn't an accident, though." - -"No?" said Sanders. - -"The thing was done in cool deliberation. I was in college, in a -medical college, for I'm a doctor you know. I was a student then; and -it was the custom among the students to perform various operations on -each other, by way of practice, so that when we went out from there to -begin our work we would know how things should be done. One day I -sawed a student's skull open, took out a spoonful of his brains, and -sewed the wound up so nicely that he was well in a week. The operation -was a great success, but I dipped a little too deep and took out too -much of the gray matter, and after that he was always omitting -something or other that he should have remembered. In return for what -he had permitted me to do he put me on the operating table one day, -broke my arm with a mallet, and then proceeded to put it together -again. In doing so he omitted the funny bone, and my arm has been this -way ever since." - -Fogg broke into a roar of laughter. Sanders flushed slowly; and -getting up walked to the other end of the room, chewing wrathfully, -splintering the story with his teeth as he splintered the grass blades -that he plucked and chewed when walking about to view the valley land. - -"Huh!" he grunted, coming back and dropping lumpily into his chair. -"Tell that to a fool an' mebbe you'll git a fool to believe ye, but I -don't!" - -Fogg slapped his fat knee and roared again. - -"Ha, ha! Ho, ho! Ask him something else, Sanders! Who-ee! Doc, I -didn't think it was in you! If you do anything like that again I'll -have to let a reef out of the band of my trousers. Fire another -question at him, Sanders." - -"No," said Sanders, while a sullen fire glowed in his little eyes; "I -was goin' to ask him some other things, but I'm done!" - -Then he chewed again, tried hard to laugh, and seemed about to say -something; but Fogg broke in. - -"I say, Doc, you can tell a story so well you'd ought to be in my -line. Story telling is my long suit. Lincoln ought to have altered his -immortal saying before giving it to the world. My experience is that -if you keep the people in a good humor you can fool _all_ of them -_all_ of the time, and there ain't any better way than by feeding -them anecdotes and jollying them until they think they are the -smartest ever. For instance, Sanders believes in fortune tellers; they -jolly him, and that pleases him, and they get his coin. It's the same -way with everything and everybody." - -In addition to the photographic apparatus stored in the wine-colored -wagon Fogg had a collection of Navajo blankets, Pueblo pottery, Indian -baskets, bows and arrows, and such things. Seeing that his host was -not to be a purchaser, and being in a communicative mood, he did not -hesitate to expose now the secrets of his trade, in proof of his view -of the gullibility of the general public. - -"See that," he said, taking up a hideous image of Pueblo workmanship. -"Ninety men out of a hundred will believe that thing, with its froggy -mouth, is a Pueblo idol, without you telling them, and the others will -believe it when you do tell them." - -"Huh!" grunted Sanders, still angry; "if 'tain't an Injun idol, what -is it?" - -It seemed natural for Fogg to laugh, and he laughed again, with easy -gurgling. - -"You may call it anything you want to, but it ain't an idol. I've seen -Pueblo idols; there's a room full of them in the old Governor's Palace -in Santa Fe, and they look more than anything else like stone fence -posts with holes gouged near one end for the eyes, nose and mouth. -Them are genuine old Pueblo idols, but you bet the Pueblos didn't sell -them, and they didn't give 'em away. Did you ever know of a people -that would sell their God? I never did." - -"None, except Christians!" said Clayton, speaking slowly, but with -emphasis. - -Fogg set the staring image on the table and looked at him. - -"I hadn't thought of that. Yes, I reckon they do, a good deal of the -time. But an Indian wouldn't; he would never sell his God. Maybe it's -because Christians think so little of theirs that they're so ready to -believe a Pueblo will sell his for 'most any old thing. Them images -are just caricatures, made to sell. I go among the Pueblos three or -four times a year and buy up a lot of their pottery, and I encourage -them to make these images, which the average tourist thinks are gods, -for they sell better even than the water jars and other things that -they turn out. - -"Then I buy blankets of the Navajos, which they make dirt cheap now. I -helped to put 'em onto that. You can sell a dozen cheap blankets -easier than a single expensive one, especially when the people you're -selling to think they're getting the genuine goods at a bargain. It's -easier for the Navajo weavers to tear old government blankets to -pieces and re-weave them and color them with analine dyes than it is -for them to take their own wool and their own dyes and put the things -together in the old way. They won't wear of course, and the colors -fade, but they sell like hot cakes. - -"I buy for a dealer, who snaps up everything of the kind I can bring -him and hollers for more. You ought to see the crowds of people, -especially tourists, who wear out his floors. I'm going to have a -store of that kind myself some day. I take photographs for him, of -scenery and other things that will sell; and bring him loads of basket -work and bows and arrows from the Jicarilla Apaches just over the New -Mexican line. He grabs for the Jicarilla work, which I can get almost -cheaper than anybody, for I know the head men. The Jicarillas used to -be slow workers and too honest, like the Navajo weavers; but they're -onto their job now, and can put a willow basket together and dye it -with patent dyes in almost no time." - -Thus Lemuel Fogg discoursed of his business methods, until he had -succeeded in proving several things concerning himself, in addition to -his easy belief that the whole world is either covetous or dishonest. - -Fogg departed the next morning, on his way to Denver. Sanders lingered -in the valley for two or three days, peeking and prying, at intervals -visiting a fortune teller of local repute in the town, who saw land, -houses, and cattle for him, in the grounds of a coffee cup. But he was -angered against Clayton and did not return to his house. A dozen times -he told inquiring farmers that he "reckoned" he would take land there -and become one of them. But the grounds in the coffee cup did not -settle just right, and at length he, too, departed. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -SIBYL - - -One day there came, across the level lands, a wave of horsemen and -hounds in a rabbit hunt, the baying of the dogs breaking sharply on -the peaceful calm of the valley. Justin rushed from the house when he -heard the clamor. Clayton followed more slowly, and looked across the -valley from his doorway. The flutter of skirts told him that some of -the saddles bore women. He frowned. This slaughter of rabbits was -particularly distasteful to him, though he knew that the few farmers -on the low land by the stream would welcome it, if the horses and dogs -did not cut up the cultivated fields. - -Big gray jack rabbits, routed from their coverts, were bobbing on in -advance of the baying hounds and galloping riders. More rabbits were -seen to start up, bouncing out of bunches of grass or scattered clumps -of sage. Following behind, driven at a lively gait, came a mule team, -drawing a light spring wagon into which the slain rabbits were thrown. - -The extended line had advanced in a big semicircle; and the ends -bending in, the chase drew on toward the solitary home of the solitary -doctor. Justin was filled with excitement. The lust of killing, which -seems to be in the racial blood, stirred strongly within him, and was -only held in partial leash by certain teachings and admonitions well -hammered in by his instructor. Suddenly, quite carried away, he swung -his hat and yelled: - -"Mary is on one of those horses! See her, out there on the right side, -on the white horse! She must have been at the station and joined them -when they started." - -Clayton drew back from the doorway without a glance at the form of -Mary Jasper borne onward with flying leaps. A rush of disgust shook -him, so that he did not care to look longer. But Justin remained -outside, swinging his hat and whooping at intervals, quite taken out -of himself. - -Then a louder clamor, and a cry from Justin, drew Clayton to the door -again. One of the rabbits was approaching the house, springing on with -indescribable swiftness, yet unable either by running or dodging to -shake off the pursuit of the lithe-limbed, baying creatures that cleft -the air behind it. Two of the foremost of the hounds were in chase of -this rabbit, one twenty yards in advance of the other. Pushed hard, -the rabbit crouched and dodged again with such celerity that the -hound, whose open mouth at the instant was almost closing on it, was -thrown headlong in a frantic effort to stop and turn as quickly as the -rabbit itself. The second hound rushed at it, and the change of -direction flung the fleeing rabbit upon the bit of trampled grass in -front of the open door in which Clayton stood. - -It saw the opening, and in desperation darted into it as into a cave, -whisking past Clayton's legs. The hound came close after, yelping -fiendishly. With an exclamation that sounded like an oath, Clayton -kicked at it; but the hound almost overthrew him, leaped into the -house, and he heard the rabbit's death cry, and a crunching of bones -as the dog's ponderous jaws closed on its quivering body. - -Then Clayton heard a pounding of hoofs, and with eyes blazing -wrathfully he looked up, and saw the original of the photograph which -he had hurled into the fire and then had drawn out and treasured as if -he could not bear to part with it. The blood receded from his face, -leaving it livid and ghastly. - -"Sibyl!" he exclaimed. - -[Illustration: "The woman sitting there on her chafing horse stared -back at him"] - -The woman drew up her horse in front of the door through which the dog -had darted. She saw the man, and her clutch of the rein tightened. -Clayton looked up at her, and, standing in the doorway, while the dog, -having completed its bloody work panted out past him with furious -haste, he put his strong right hand against the side of the door, with -a faltering motion, as if he felt the need of aid to sustain him from -falling. - -The woman sitting there on her chafing horse stared back at him, while -the clamor of the hounds broke over them. Her face had flushed more -than even the excitement of the chase warranted; yet he knew she was -marvellously beautiful, as he looked at her full rounded throat and -chin, at her olive cheeks in which dimples nestled, and into her great -dark eyes, that held now a surprised light. Her hair was as dark as -her eyes, and even though much hidden beneath her riding hat, it was -still a crown of glory. Clayton saw only enough of the blue riding -habit to know that it became her; his eyes were drawn to her face. - -"Are you living here?" she asked in astonishment, giving a glance at -the small house. - -"Yes," he answered huskily. "I thought it as good a place as any, and -out of the world; but it seems you found your way here. And Death came -riding with you, as usual." - -"Curtis, you're always ridiculous when you say foolish things! I've -been wondering where you were. You don't intend to return to Denver?" - -"No." - -"Not even if I wanted you to?" - -She looked at him with her fascinating unfathomable eyes, noting his -manly presence, his clear-cut dark features, and the stiff, awkward -left arm. As she did so the color flamed back into his face. - -"No! Not unless--" - -"Unless I would consent to be as poky as you are!" - -"No, not that. I shouldn't expect you to take an interest in the -things I do. You never did, but I didn't care for that." - -He stopped as if in hesitation and stood trembling. - -"Well, I'm glad I've found where you're living. I suppose your post -office address is the town over there by the side of the mountain, -where the station is? I shall have something to send you by mail by -and by." - -"Yes, my mail comes to the station post office." - -He still trembled and appeared to hesitate. - -"It's queer, how I happened to find you here, isn't it? I have an -acquaintance in that little town, and she invited me down the other -day. Some other strangers to the place chanced to be there, and this -rabbit hunt was gotten up for our entertainment." - -"A queer form of entertainment!" he observed, with caustic emphasis. - -"To you I suppose it isn't anything short of murder?" - -"It's strange to me how any one can find pleasure in it." - -"I suppose that is as one looks at it. But I must be going. I don't -care to have people see us talking too long together. I'm glad, -though, that I found you." - -"Good bye!" he said, his lips bloodless again. - -She pulled her horse sharply about, and in another moment was -galloping on in the hunt, leaving him standing in the doorway staring -after her. He stood thus until the clamor of the dogs sounded faint -and she became a mere swaying speck, then he turned back into the -house. Justin came in at his heels. He had seen the woman and -recognized the pictured face of the photograph. - -"Take the rabbit out and bury it somewhere, Justin," said Clayton -wearily. - -Then he passed on into his study and closed the door behind him. - -A few days later the mail carrier brought him a Denver newspaper of -ancient date with ink lines drawn round a divorce notice. The paper -had been sent to his address by Sibyl. Clayton read the marked notice -carefully, and thrusting the paper into the stove touched a lighted -match to it. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE INVASION OF PARADISE - - -Lemuel Fogg made other visits to Paradise Valley, as the seasons came -and went, and Justin learned to look forward with pleasure to his -coming. Always he stayed over night, and talked long with Clayton, for -whom he had conceived a liking. - -Clayton continued to cling to his lonely home. Though more than once -tempted to depart he had never been able to make up his mind to do so. -He averred to Fogg, and to other acquaintances, that, having been -dropped down into Paradise Valley quite by chance, mental and physical -inertia held him there; he was lazy, he said, and the indolent life of -Paradise Valley had strong attraction for him. - -Yet, as his reputation as an excellent doctor spread, he often rode -many weary miles to visit a patient. Always the studies went on, and -the writing, and the little glass slipping out of and into his pocket -made the whole earth radiant with life and beauty. And Justin became a -stalwart lad, whose strong handsome face, earnest blue eyes, and -attractive personality, won new friends and held old ones. - -The few farmers who remained had learned well some lessons with the -passing of the years. Ceasing to rely on the uncertain rainfall, they -had decreased the areas of their tilled fields and pushed them close -to the stream, where the low-lying soil was blest with sufficient -sub-irrigation to swell the deep taproots of the alfalfa. They kept -small herds of cattle, and some sheep, which they grazed on the bunch -grass. The few things they had to sell, honey rifled from the alfalfa -blooms by the bees, poultry, eggs and butter, they found a market for -in the town, or shipped to Denver. - -Sloan Jasper was of those who remained, and Mary, a tall girl now, had -taken the place of her mother in the farmer's home. Mrs. Jasper had -given up the struggle with hard climatic conditions, and had passed -on, attended in her last illness by the faithful doctor. - -With Lemuel Fogg there came, one day, a ranchman named Davison; and in -their wake followed herds of bellowing, half-wild cattle, and groups -of brisk-riding, shouting cowboys, who rode down the fields in the -moist soil by the stream, as they galloped in pursuit of their -refractory charges. - -The advent of the cattle and the cowboys, the establishment of the -Davison ranch, the erection of houses and bunk-rooms, stables and -corrals, filled Justin's life to the brim with excitement. He -fraternized with the cowboys, and struck up a warm friendship with -Philip Davison's son Ben, a lively young fellow older than himself, -who could ride a horse not only like a cowboy, but like a circus -athlete, for he could perform the admirable feat of standing in the -saddle with arms folded across his breast while his well-trained -broncho tore around the new corral at a gallop. - -When the other members of the Davison household came and were -domiciled in the new ranch house, Justin found that Lucy Davison, the -ranchman's niece, the "cousin" of whom Ben had talked, was a beautiful -girl of Mary's age, with more than Mary's charm of manner. She was -paler than Mary, and had not her rose-leaf cheeks, but she was more -beautiful in her way, and she had something which Mary lacked. Justin -did not know what it was, for he was not yet analytical, but he was -interested in a wholly new manner. He could not be with her enough, -and when he was absent thoughts of her filled his mind and even his -dreams. - -Mary Jasper hastened to call on Lucy Davison; and in doing so made the -acquaintance of that most interesting person, Miss Pearl Newcome, -Davison's housekeeper. Miss Newcome had passed the beauty stage, if -indeed she had ever dwelt at all in that delectable period which -should come by right to every member of the sex; but she still -cherished the romantic illusions of her earlier years, and kept them -embalmed, as it were, in sundry fascinating volumes, which were warded -and locked in her trunk up stairs. She brought these out at -psychological moments, smelling sweetly of cedar and moth balls, and -read from them, to Mary's great delight; for there never were such -charming romances in the world, and never will be again, no matter who -writes them. Some of them were in the form of pamphlets, yellow and -falling to pieces; others were in creaky-backed books; and still -others, and these the most read, in cunning bindings of Miss Newcome's -own contriving. - -Sitting on the flat lid of the trunk, with one foot tucked under her -for comfort, while Mary crouched on the floor with her rose-leaf -cheeks in her palms, Pearl Newcome would read whole chapters from -"Fanny the Flower Girl, or the Pits and Pitfalls of London," from -"Lady Clare, or Lord Marchmont's Unhappy Bride," from "The Doge's -Doom, or the Mysterious Swordsman of Venice," and many others. The -mysterious swordsman in the "Doge's Doom" was especially entrancing, -for he went about at night with a black mask over his face, and made -love and fought duels with the greatest imaginable nonchalance. It -taxed the memory merely to keep count of his many loves and battles, -and it was darkly hinted that he was a royal personage in disguise. - -"The Black Mask's scabbard clanked ominously as he sprang from the -gondola to the stone arches below the sombre building, while the -moonlight was reflected from his shining coat of mail and from the -placid waters of the deep lagoon, showing in the pellucid waves alike -the untamed locks that hung about his shoulders and the white -frightened face of the slender, golden-haired maiden who leaned toward -him with palpitating bosom from the narrow, open window above him." - -When that point was reached Mary clasped her hands tightly across her -knees and rocked in aching excitement; for who was to know whether the -Black Mask would succeed in getting the lovely maiden out of the -clutches of the foul doge who held her a prisoner, or whether some -guard concealed in a niche in the wall would not pounce out, having -been set there by the shrewd doge for the purpose, and slice the Black -Mask's head off, in spite of the protecting coat of mail? - -Aside from her duties as housekeeper, which she never neglected, there -was one other thing that could cause Pearl Newcome to surrender -voluntarily the joys of that perch on the trunk lid in the midst of -her redolent romances with Mary Jasper for an appreciative listener, -and that was the voice of Steve Harkness, the ranch foreman. The -attraction of the printed page palled when she heard Harkness's heavy -tones, and stopping, with her finger between the leaves, she would -step to the window; and sometimes, to Mary's regret, would go down -stairs, where she would cut out a huge triangle of pie and place it on -the kitchen table. - -Harkness was big and jovial, and in no manner resembled the Black -Mask, who was slender, lithe, had a small supple wrist, hair of -midnight blackness, and "a voice like the tinkle of many waters." -Harkness's voice was big and heavy, and his wrist was large and red. -But he was usually clean-shaven, scented himself sweetly with cinnamon -drops, and was altogether very becoming, in the eyes of Pearl Newcome. -And she knew he liked pie. Sometimes Pearl came back to the trunk and -continued the dropped romance. That was when Harkness was in a hurry -and could not linger in the kitchen to joke and laugh with her. But if -time chanced to hang heavily on his hands and no troublesome cowboy or -refractory steer claimed his attention, she did not return at all, and -Mary, tired of waiting, crept down in disappointment. - -Delightful as Mary Jasper and Justin Wingate found the people of the -new ranch, Curtis Clayton secluded himself more than ever with his -books and his writing, and was not to be coaxed out of his shell even -by Justin's stories of Ben's marvellous acrobatic and equestrian feats -and of Lucy's brightness and clever talk. - -Yet he was drawn out one day by a summons that could not be disobeyed. -Harkness had been hurled against the new wire corral by a savage -broncho, and Clayton's services as a surgeon were demanded. He never -refused a call like that. - -He found Harkness sitting in the kitchen of the ranch house, to which -he had come as to a shelter, with Pearl Newcome bending over him, a -camphor bottle in one of her hands and a blood-stained cloth in the -other. Davison, Fogg, and several cowboys, stood about in helpless -awkwardness. Harkness's face looked white and faint, in spite of its -red tan. The sleeve of his flannel shirt had been rolled to the -shoulder and a bloody bandage was wound round the arm. - -"Nothin' to make a fuss about," he said, when he saw Clayton. "I got -slung up ag'inst the barbed wire and my arm was ripped open. It's been -bleedin' some, but that's good fer it." - -"I shall have to take a number of stitches," Clayton announced, when -he had examined and cleansed the wound. He opened a pouch of his -saddle-bags. - -"No chloryform ner anything of that kind fer me," said Harkness, -regarding him curiously. "Jist go ahead with your sewin'." - -Clayton obeyed; while Harkness, setting a lighted cigarette between -his teeth, talked and laughed with apparent nonchalance. - -Brought thus into close contact with the people of the ranch, the -shell of Clayton's exclusiveness was shattered. After that, daily, for -some time, he rode or walked over to the ranch house to see how his -patient was doing, or Harkness came over to see him. And he found that -these people were good to know. They lessened the emptiness which had -gnawed. They were human beings, with wholly human hearts. And he -needed them quite as much as they needed him. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG - - -Justin shot up into a tall youth; he was beginning to feel that he was -almost a man; and love had come to him, as naturally and simply as the -bud changes into the flower. It flushed his face, as he came with Lucy -Davison up the path to the arbor seat in the cottonwoods, after a -stroll by the stream. Planted when the ranch was established, the -trees were now a cool and screening grove. Justin had made for her a -crown of the cottonwood leaves, and had set it on her brown hair. As -they walked along, hand in hand, he looked at her now and then, with -the light of young love in his eyes. He was sure he had never seen a -girl so beautiful and it gave him a strange and delightful pleasure -just to look at her. - -"Tell me more about Doctor Clayton," she said, dropping down upon the -arbor seat. "You told me about that scorched photograph. What is that -woman to him, anyway?" - -"I don't know," he said, as he sat down by her. - -"I think she must have been his sweetheart." - -"Just because he couldn't burn her picture?" - -"Because he came down here in that queer way and has stayed here ever -since. Something happened to separate them." - -"If that is so I ought to be sorry, I suppose, but I can't; it was a -good thing for me; it kept me here, and gave me a chance to--get an -education." - -"And we do need a doctor here," she said, with unnecessary emphasis. - -"If he hadn't come, I'm afraid I should have been sent away when Mr. -Wingate died, and then I shouldn't ever have--met you." - -"Oh, you might have!" she declared, tossing her crowned head -coquettishly. - -She crumpled a cottonwood leaf in her fingers. With a boldness that -gripped his throat he slipped his hand along the back of the arbor -seat. - -"And if--if I had never met you?" - -"Then you wouldn't have known me!" - -"No, I suppose not; but, as you said, I might have; it seems to me -that something would have drawn me to you, wherever you were." - -The hot color dyed her fair cheeks. Her brown eyes dropped and were -veiled by their dark lashes. A strand of the brown hair blown in a -tangle across the oval of her face, the delicate curve of the white -throat, the yielding touch of her body as he pressed his extended arm -close up against it, intoxicated his youthful senses. - -"I don't want to think how it would have been if I had never known -you," he declared earnestly. "We have been good friends a long time, -Lucy." - -"We're good friends now, aren't we?" - -"Yes, but I want it to be something more than just friends." - -He pressed his arm closer about her and bent toward her. - -"I hope you won't mind my saying it; but I do love you, and have -from--from the very first. I didn't understand so well what it meant -then, but now I know--I know that I love you, and love you, and love -you!" The arm tightened still more. "And--and if you would only say -that you love me, too, and that--" - -She lifted her face to his. A dash of tears shone in the brown eyes. - -"I--I have--hurt your feelings!" - -"No, Justin." - -The sight of those tears, and her tremulous lips, so moved him that, -with an impulsive motion, and a courage he would not have thought -possible, he stooped and kissed her. - -"If you would only say that you do love me," he urged. - -"I do love you, Justin," she said, with girlish earnestness, "and you -ought to know that I do." - -"I have always dreamed of this," he declared, putting both arms about -her and drawing her close against his heart. "I have always dreamed of -this; that we might love each other, and be always together. I think -that has been in my heart since the day I first saw you." - -He held her tightly now, as if thus he would keep her near him -forever. - -"Have you truly loved me always?" she asked, after a long silence. - -"Always; ever since I knew you!" - -"But you--you did care for Mary, before I came?" - -"I always liked Mary." - -"And you like her now?" - -"Yes, but I love you; and that is very different." - -She sat quite still, but picked at the leaf of the cotton wood. He -seemed so strong and so masterful that the touch of his hands and the -pressure of his arms gave her a delightful sense of weakness and -dependence, a hitherto unknown feeling. - -"You never cared for Mary as--as you do me?" - -"I truly never loved Mary at all; I liked her, and we used to have -great fun together. But we were only children then, you know!" - -She saw one of the hands that enfolded her; the sleeve of his coat was -drawn up slightly, disclosing the clear white of the skin and the deep -line of tan at the wrist. She ventured to look at his face--the side -of it turned toward her; it was as tanned as his hand. Something more -than admiration shone in her brown eyes. - -"And now you think you are a big man!" - -"I am older," he said, simply. - -"And was that--that the reason why you tamed my mustang that day, so -that he wouldn't be killed? Because you loved me? I've wondered about -that." - -"That was the reason; but I was anxious, too, to save him." - -She was silent again, as if pondering this. - -"I've thought that might be the reason; and, you won't laugh at me if -I tell you, that's why I've ridden him so much since. Uncle Philip -didn't want me to go near him after that. But I would; and I've ridden -him ever since; though Pearl has told me a dozen times that he would -throw me and kill me. But I was going to ride him if I could, -because--because you conquered him--for me." - -He kissed her again, softly. - -"You musn't take too many risks with the mustang; for--for some time, -you know, you are going to marry me, I hope?" - -She did not answer. - -"It's a long way off, that some time, but--" - -She did not look at him. - -"Yes, some time, if I can," she said timidly. - -"If you can?" - -"If Uncle Philip will let me." - -"He's only your guardian, and you'll be of age by and by." - -"It seems a good while yet." - -"But it will come." - -"Yes, it will come." - -"I'll wait until that some time," he promised in a low voice. - -Time sped swiftly beneath the cottonwoods. To the boy and girl in the -morning glow of love hours are minutes. They did not know they had so -many things to talk over. Every subject was colored with a new light -and had a new relationship. But love itself was uppermost, on their -lips and in their hearts. - -Justin bore away from that arbor seat a conflicting sense of -exaltation and unworthiness. The warm inner light that illumined him -flowed out upon the world and brightened it. He walked with a sense of -buoyancy. There was a tang in the air and a glow in the sky before -unknown. - -Meeting Ben Davison he had a new sense of comradeship with him; and -though Ben talked of the young English setter he had recently -purchased, and sought to show off the good points of the dog, Justin -was thinking of Ben himself, who was a cousin to Lucy, and now shared -in some degree her superior merits. - -Also, when Philip Davison came out of the ranch house and walked -toward the horse corrals, the glance of his blue eyes seemed brighter -and kindlier, his manner more urbane and noble, and the simple order -he gave to Ben concerning work to be done fell in kindlier tone. -Though Davison's words bit like acid sometimes, Justin was resolved -now to remember always that he was Lucy's uncle and guardian. - -Walking homeward, Justin looked now and then at the ranch house. He -had seen Lucy flutter into it like a bird; she was in that house now, -he reflected, brightening it with her presence. The house, the -grounds, and more than all the cottonwood grove, became sacred. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -WILLIAM SANDERS - - -The feeling which hallowed the mere local surroundings of love held -its place tenaciously in Justin's heart and seemed not likely to pass -away. It was no sickly sentimentality, but had the power to strengthen -his inner life and add to his growing manliness. - -Justin was employed on the ranch now, and though there were many -distasteful things connected with the work, he desired to remain, -because it gave him so many opportunities to be near Lucy Davison. The -necessary cruelties connected with the rearing and handling of cattle -on a great range sickened him at times; for a love that was almost a -worship of all life, the lower forms equally with the higher, had been -instilled by Clayton into every fibre of his being. To Justin now even -the elements seemed to stir with consciousness. Did not certain -chemicals exhibited by Clayton rush together into precipitates and -crystals, as if they loved and longed to be united, and did not so -common a thing as fire throw out tentacles of flame, and grapple with -the wood as if hungry? And who was to say that the precipitates and -crystals and the fire did not know? Certainly not ignorant man. - -With this love of every form of life there grew a manly gentleness, -broken strangely at times by outbursts of temper, so that often it -seemed whimsical. - -Riding forth one day, in cowboy attire, along the line fence that held -in the cattle from the cultivated valley lands, he came upon Philip -Davison engaged in angry controversy with a young man of somewhat -shabby appearance. The shrewd little eyes of this man observed Justin -closely. Beside the fence was a dirty prairie schooner, from which the -man had descended, and to it two big raw-boned farm horses were -hitched. Eyeing Justin the man pushed back his hat, then awkwardly -extended his hand. - -"So you're Justin, air ye--the little boy I met one't? I reckon you -don't know me? I wouldn't knowed you, but fer hearin' the name." - -Justin acknowledged that the man's face was unfamiliar. - -"Well, I'm William Sanders!" He plucked a spear of grass and began to -splinter it with his teeth. "I landed hyer some seasons ago with Mr. -Fogg, and stayed all night with the doctor over there. Mebbe you'll -remember me now. I've thought of you a good many times sense then. -You've growed a lot. I was thinkin' about you t'other day while on my -way hyer; and a fortune teller I went to in Pueblo picked you out -straight off, from the cards she told with. She showed me the jack of -hearts, and said that was the young feller I had in mind. Sing'lar, -wasn't it?" - -Justin recalled this young man now, and shook his hand heartily. - -"It was singular," he admitted. - -"We'll have to talk over old times by and by," said Sanders, amiably. - -But Davison was not pleased to see Sanders, whom he had never met -before. Sanders, it appeared, had bought a quarter-section of land not -far from the stream, and had now come to occupy it. Trouble had arisen -over the fact that it was included in a large area of mortgaged and -government land which Davison had fenced for his cattle. Sanders was -demanding that he should cut the fence. - -"Cut it and let me git my land," he insisted, "er I'll cut it fer ye. -I know my rights under the law." - -"You can't farm there, and you know you can't," said Davison, in a -tone of expostulation. "This is simply a piece of blackmail. You want -me to pay you not to trouble me about the fence. But I won't do it. If -I did I'd have dozens of men landed on me demanding the same thing. -You know that nothing but bunch grass will grow on that land." - -Though he chewed placidly on the grass spear, Sanders' little eyes -glittered. - -"Cut the fence and let me git to my land, er I'll cut it fer ye!" - -His love for Lucy, which extended now to Philip Davison as a warm -regard and intense boyish admiration, would have inclined Justin to -the ranchman's side; but it was clear that Sanders was in the right -and Davison in the wrong. - -"I'll see you again, Mr. Sanders," he said; and rode on while the two -men were still wrangling. It was remarkable, he thought, that Sanders -should have remembered him so long, and more remarkable that a fortune -teller who had never seen him should be able to describe him even in a -dim and uncertain way. - -Farther along he encountered Ben, ranging the mesa with dog and gun, -training his young English setter. It was Ben's duty to ride the line -on this particular day; but Ben had shirked, and Justin had been -assigned to his place. The current opinion of the cowboys was that Ben -was shiftless and unreliable. - -"What's that hayseed mouthing about?" Ben asked. - -"He has bought some land in there, and wants your father to cut the -fence so that he can get to it." - -"These farmers are always making trouble," Ben growled. - -Then his face flushed. - -"Why didn't you stand up with me against that granger the other day, -when I told him that his horses, and not ours, had damaged his crops?" - -Justin desired to think well of Ben and remain on terms of friendship -with him because of Lucy. - -"I couldn't very well," he urged, "for I saw our horses in his millet, -myself." - -"Well, he didn't; he was in town that day. He would have believed you, -if you had said they were his horses. You might have backed me up, -instead of flinching; I'd have done as much for you." - -"You've got a handsome dog there!" said Justin. - -"Oh, that setter's going to be fine when I get him broke," Ben -asserted, with enthusiasm. "I only wish we had some Eastern quails -here. Harkness put you on this line today, did he? I wanted to train -my setter; so I told him I wasn't well, and slipped out of it." - -As the dog was now far ahead, Ben hastened to overtake him, and Justin -rode on, thinking of Ben, of Lucy, and of William Sanders. Ben's easy -disregard of certain things he had been taught to consider essentials -troubled him. He wanted to think well of Ben. - -When Justin learned the outcome of the controversy between Davison and -Sanders he was somewhat astonished. Sanders' truculence had made him -think the man would persist in his demands; but Sanders had agreed to -fence his own land, if Davison would but give him a right of way to -it. - -Within a week Justin understood why. Sanders, visiting the ranch-house -to see Davison, had also seen Lucy. He became a familiar visitor, -where his presence was not desired. If Lucy rode out, William Sanders -invariably chanced to be in the trail going in the same direction. If -she remained at home he came to the house to get Davison's advice as -to the best manner of constructing a fence, and Lucy's advice -concerning the proper furnishing of a dug-out for a single man who -expected to live alone and do his own cooking. - -Lucy came to Justin with the burden of her woes. - -"He follows me round all the time, just as if he were my dog!" - -"You ought to feel flattered," said Justin, though he was himself -highly indignant. "I don't suppose you want me to say anything to him -about it?" - -"Oh, no--no!" she gasped, terrified by the threat concealed behind the -words. - -"I've noticed he hasn't come near me since our meeting down by the -line fence. He told me then that he wanted to have a talk about old -times, but he hasn't seemed in any hurry to begin it." - -As Justin rode away in an angry mood Lucy Davison looked at his -receding figure with some degree of uneasiness. Justin had on a few -occasions showed a decidedly inflammable temper. Ordinarily mild in -word and manner, borrowing much of that mildness doubtless from -Clayton, when he gave way to a sudden spasm of rage it was likely to -carry him beyond the bounds of reason. - -The provocation came in a most unexpected, and at the time -inexplicable, way. Justin, riding along the trail by the stream, saw -Lucy come out from the shadows of the young cottonwoods near Sloan -Jasper's and walk in his direction, as if to join him. The sight of -her there filled his sky with brightness and the music of singing -birds. He pricked up his broncho and turned it from the trail. - -As he did so he beheld William Sanders appear round the end of the -cottonwood grove, mounted on one of his big, raw-boned horses. Riding -up to Lucy, Sanders slipped from his saddle and walked along by her -side. Justin's anger burned. It was apparent to him, great as was the -separating distance, that Sanders' presence and words were distasteful -to her. She stopped and seemed about to turn back to the grove. Justin -saw Sanders put out his hand as if to detain her. As he did so she -stooped; then she screamed, and fell forward, apparently to avoid him. - -Justin drove his broncho from a trot into a wild gallop. His anger -increased to smoking rage. It passed to ungovernable fury, when he -beheld Sanders catch the screaming girl in his arms, lift her to the -back of his horse, and scramble up behind her in the saddle. Justin -yelled at him. - -"Stop--stop, you villain!" - -In utter disregard of him and his shouted command Sanders plunged his -spurs into the flanks of his big horse, and began to ride away from -the cottonwoods at top speed. Lucy lay limp in his arms. - -"I'll have his life!" Justin cried, longing now for one of the cowboy -revolvers he had made it a practice, on the advice of Clayton, never -to carry; and he drove the broncho into furious pursuit of the big -horse that was bearing Lucy and Sanders away. - -The light, clean-limbed broncho, unimpeded by a cumbersome double -weight, began to gain in the mad race. Justin ploughed its sides -mercilessly with the spurs, struck it with his hands, and yelled at -it, to increase its speed. - -"Go, go!" he cried; "we must catch that scoundrel quick!" - -His line of action when that was accomplished was not formulated, -further than that he knew he would hurl himself on Sanders, tear him -from the saddle, and punish him as it seemed he deserved. - -Steadily the separating distance was decreased. Sanders still sent the -big horse on, almost without a backward glance. He held Lucy tightly -in his arms. Apparently she had fainted, for Justin could not observe -that she struggled to release herself. - -Again Justin bellowed a command to Sanders to halt. He was close upon -the big horse now. Sanders turned in his saddle heavily, for the -weight of the girl impeded his movements. Justin fancied he could see -the man's little eyes glitter, as they did that day when he delivered -his ultimatum to Davison. - -"You go to hell!" he bellowed back. - -The momentary slacking of his rein caused his horse to stumble, and it -fell to the ground. - -Justin galloped up in an insanity of blazing wrath. Lucy, hurled from -the back of the horse with Sanders, sprang up with a cry, and ran -toward Justin. Sanders, having picked himself up uninjured, stared at -her. His flushed face whitened and his little eyes showed a singular -and ominous gleam. - -"Take her," he said, hoarsely; "damn you, take her--I was doin' the -best I could!" - -Lucy's face was white--piteously white; her dry hot eyes gushed with -tears, and a sob choked in her throat. - -"Justin--Justin, it was not--his fault--nothing he did; it was the -snake; see, it bit me, here!" She thrust forward her hand. "Near the -wrist, there; and--and it is swelling fast, fast! We--we must--get to -Doctor Clayton's quick--quick!" - -Justin staggered under the revulsion of feeling. He caught the shaking -and terrified girl in his arms. - -"Help me--get her into the saddle, Sanders," he begged, stammering the -words. "And--and I ask your pardon! Later I will tell you what I--but -now I need you to--" - -Sanders sprang to his assistance. - -"Better take my horse; he's bigger!" - -"The broncho is faster," said Justin. "That's right. Now--that's -right!" - -He climbed shakily into the saddle. He felt his very brain reeling. -Then the broncho leaped forward. Sanders struck it a smart blow to -hurry it on; and stood looking at them, as they galloped wildly on -toward Clayton's, which had been his own destination. - -"Damn him!" he cried hoarsely. His little eyes glittered and his lips -foamed. "I was doin' the best I could, and I would have made it all -right." He clenched his fists. "I would 'a' been his friend--and -helped him; but now--" - -The sentence, the threat, died, gurgling, in his throat. - -As for Justin, he had no thought now but to reach Doctor Clayton's in -the quickest time possible. He did not spare the broncho. Yet, even in -these minutes of whirling excitement, when anxiety, fright, love, -chagrin, and regret, fought within him for the mastery, he did not -forget some of the things learned of Clayton. He took out his -handkerchief, rolled it into a cord with hands and teeth, and with -hands and teeth knotted it round the bitten arm just above the two -small punctures made by the teeth of the rattlesnake. - -The arm was already swollen, and he thought it was becoming -discolored. At times burning tears gushed from his eyes in a way to -blind him and keep him from seeing anything clearly. Lucy lay in his -arms as if dead. For aught he knew she might even then be dying. The -poison of the rattlesnake had been injected near the great artery of -the wrist, as she stooped in her embarrassment to pluck a flower, and -it would be speedy in its malignant effects. With that terrible fear -upon him, Justin blamed himself ceaselessly for the delay he had -wrought in the mistaken notion that Sanders was acting with sinister -intent. If that brief delay should aid to a fatal result he knew he -should go mad or kill himself. - -When Lucy stirred, or moaned, he bent over her with wild words of -inquiry. Her eyes were closed, and she was very white. - -"We are almost there--almost there!" he cried. - -Yet how long the distance seemed! - -Clayton came to the door, when he heard the clatter of hoofs. He wore -a faded smoking jacket and had a black skull cap perched on the top of -his head. His half lounging manner changed when he saw the trembling -broncho, dripping sweat and panting with labored breath from the -strain of its terrible run, and saw Justin climbing heavily out of the -saddle with Lucy. When her feet touched the ground she stood erect, -but tottered, clinging weakly to Justin's arm. She made a brave effort -to walk, as Clayton hurried to her side. He saw the knotted -handkerchief and the swollen arm, and knew what had happened. - -"Into the house," he said, tenderly supporting her. "Don't be -frightened, Lucy--don't be frightened! Justin, help me on the other -side--ah, that's right! A little girl was here only the other day, -from the Purgatoire, who had been bitten hours before, and I had her -all right in a little while. So, there's really nothing to be alarmed -about." - -Clayton's cheering words were a stimulant. Yet the battle was not -fought out. Before victory was announced, word had gone to the -ranch-house and to Jasper's. Philip Davison came, with Harkness and -Pearl Newcome, and Mary Jasper rode in on her pony, wild-eyed and -tremulous. Among others who arrived was William Sanders. - -Justin found him in the yard, out by the grass-grown cellar, where he -stood in a subdued manner, holding the reins of his raw-boned horse. -His manner changed and his little eyes burned when he saw Justin. - -"I don't keer to have you speak to me," he said, abruptly. "I reckon -from this on our ways lays in different directions. I don't know what -you thought I was up to, but I was doin' the best I could to git that -girl to this place in a hurry. You chipped in. I s'pose you think it -was all right, and that you helped matters?" - -"I have already asked your pardon, and I ask it again. I see now that -I was a fool. We'll forget the whole thing, if you're willing." - -Justin held out his hand in an amicable manner. - -Sanders disdained to take it. - -"I'm not willin' to fergit it, myself. I wanted to think well of you, -rememberin' when I first come to this house, and some other things, -but that's past. You made me look and feel cheaper than thirty cents -Mexican, and I ain't expectin' to fergit it." - -He turned away, and walked along the edge of the old cellar, leading -his horse. That William Sanders had in him all the elements of a -vicious hater was shown then, and many times afterward. He did not -speak to Justin again that day; and when the announcement came that -Clayton had won his hard fight and Lucy was on the high road to -recovery, he mounted and rode away. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -AND MARY WENT TO DENVER - - -Mary Jasper did not know that she went to Denver because she had read -Pearl Newcome's romances; but so it was. She was in love with Ben, and -expected to become his wife by and by, but her day-dreams were of -conquests and coronets. - -The alluringly beautiful lace of Sibyl had reappeared in Paradise -Valley. On her first visit, long before, Sibyl had marked the rare -dark beauty of Mary Jasper. Mary was now a fair flower bursting into -rich bloom, and wherever a fair flower grows some covetous hand is -stretched forth to pluck it. - -Though Sibyl had flung Curtis Clayton aside with as little compunction -as if his pure heart were no more than the gold on the draggled wings -of the butterfly crushed in the road, curiosity and vanity had drawn -her again and again to the little railroad town at the base of the -flat-topped mountain. There in the home of an acquaintance she had -found means to gratify her curiosity concerning the life led by -Clayton, and could feed her vanity with the thought that he had -immured himself because of her. - -Twice she had seen him, having taken rides through the valley for the -purpose; once beholding him from afar, watching him as he strolled -near the willows by the stream, unconscious of her surveillance, his -bent left arm swinging as he walked. On the second occasion they had -met face to face in the trail, while he was on his way to the town to -inspect some books he had ordered conditionally. Sibyl was on a -mettlesome bay, and he on his quick-stepping buckskin broncho. She -towered above him from the back of the larger horse. He lifted his hat -with a gentle gesture, flushing, and holding the reins tightly in his -stiff left hand. - -"You are looking well!" she cried gaily. It touched her to know that -he still carried himself erect, that he was still a handsome, -pleasant-eyed man, whom any woman might admire. "And really I've been -thinking you were moping down here, and suffering from loneliness and -hopeless love!" - -"Love is no longer hopeless, when it is dead!" he declared, voicing an -indifference he did not feel. Her light laugh fell like the sting of a -whip. "Oh, dear me! Is it so serious as that? But of course I don't -believe anything you say. Love is a bright little humming-bird of a -boy, who never dies. Truly, it must be lonesome down here, in this -poky place. I can't understand why you stay here. You might come to -Denver!" She looked at him archly, half veiling her dark eyes with -their lustrous lashes, while her horse pawed fretfully at the bank. "I -mean it, Curtis. You could be as far from me in Denver as you are down -here, if you wished to be. You know that as well as I do." - -"I don't think I could," he said, and though his voice showed pain it -showed resolution. "I find this a very good place. I like the quiet." - -"So that no one will ever trouble you while you're studying or -writing! You'll be a great author or scientist some day, I don't -doubt." - -He did not answer. - -"Well, good bye, Curtis. I'm not so bad as I seem, perhaps; you don't -see any horns or cloven hoof about me, do you?" She waved her hand. -"And I'm glad to know you're looking so well, and are so contented and -happy!" - -She gave her horse a cut with her riding whip and galloped away. - -How many more times Sibyl Dudley (she had taken her maiden name) came -to the little town by the mountain Curtis Clayton did not know, and -never sought to discover; but one day he was almost startled, when -Justin brought him news that Mary Jasper had accompanied Sibyl to -Denver, and was to remain there with her. - -Clayton at once mounted his horse and rode up the valley in the waning -afternoon, to where Sloan Jasper's house squatted by the stream in the -midst of a green plume of cottonwoods of his own planting. He found -Jasper in a stormy temper. There had been heavy August rains and a -cloud-burst. The sluggish stream had overleaped its banks, smearing -the alfalfa fields with sticky yellow mud and a tangle of weedy drift, -in addition to softening the soil until it was a spongy muck. Hundreds -of cattle had ploughed through the softened soil during the night, for -the storm had torn out a section of fence and let them drift into the -cultivated area of the valley. Standing with Jasper was Clem -Arkwright. - -"Glorious, sublime!" Arkwright was saying. - -He had taken off his hat, and stood in reverent attitude before the -lighted mountain, a young, red-faced, pudgy man, with thick mustache. -Though Sloan Jasper was not gifted with keen discernment he felt the -attitude to be that of the Pharisee proclaiming his own excellence -rather than that of his Maker. Arkwright seemed to be saying to him, -"Behold one who has been endowed with a capacity which you lack, the -capacity to appreciate and enjoy this sublime picture!" - -All the way up the valley trail Curtis Clayton had been delighting in -the beauty of that evening scene. The misty clouds lingering after the -storm had hung white draperies about the wide shoulders of the -mountain. Into these the descending sun had hurled a sheaf of -fire-tipped arrows, and straightway the white draperies had burned red -in streaks and the whole top of the mountain had flamed. The colors -were fading now. - -"Glorious, sublime!" Arkwright repeated. - -"The sunlight on that mountain don't interest me a little bit, -Arkwright," said Jasper, with curt emphasis; "what I want to know is -how I'm going to protect myself? You say there ain't any herd law. -You're a justice-of-the-peace, and I reckon a lawyer, or a half of a -one. We can have a herd law passed, can't we? And what's to keep me -from shootin' them steers when I catch 'em in here? Powder and lead -air cheap, and that's what I'll do; and then I'll let Davison do the -sum'. I ain't got nothin' much, and he'll find it hard work to git -blood out of a turnip. Let him do the sum', and see if he can collect -damages; you say I can't." - -"You're hopeless, Jasper! - - "'A primrose by the river's brim, - A yellow primrose was to him-- - And it was nothing more!'" - -Arkwright made the quotation and sighed, as Clayton rode up. "But see -the fading light on those clouds! Was there ever anything like it? -What does it make you think of?" - -"It makes me think that if I had my way I could improve on nature a -bit in this valley; I wouldn't send all the rain in a bunch and jump -the river out of its banks and roll it over everything, but distribute -it a little through some of the other months of the year." - -Arkwright turned his pudgy form about. - -"Ah, Doctor! Glad to see you. You ought to get over to the town -oftener. You wouldn't care to ride up this evening, I suppose? The -sunlight is going, and I must be going, too." - -Clayton did not care to ride to town. When Arkwright was gone he -questioned Jasper concerning the occasion of his visit. - -"I reckon he come down for a word with Ben Davison; I don't know what -else. He and Ben air gittin' thick as fleas lately. It's my opinion -that Ben's gamblin' away his wages up there in the town with him, but -I don't know; and I don't care. I'd be glad to have both of 'em keep -away from me. Look at that millet, Doctor; just look at it! Ruined by -Davison's cattle; and Arkwright tells me I can't do anything, because -there ain't any herd law in this county. But I can shoot 'em; and I'll -do it next time they git in here, see if I don't." - -Clayton had heard Jasper rave in that way before, and nothing had ever -come of it. Other settlers had raved in the same manner, and then -realized their helplessness. Looking into Jasper's angry face, he -tried now to speak of Mary. - -"I hear that your daughter has gone to Denver, Mr. Jasper!" - -Jasper drew himself up, forgetful for the moment of his millet. A look -of pride and pain overspread his hairy face. - -"Yes, she's gone there to stay awhile with Mrs. Dudley. I didn't want -her to, but she would go; it makes it mighty lonesome here, but she'll -be happier up there, I reckon. Mrs. Dudley took a likin' to Mary, and -wants to give her a better chance fer an ejication and other things -than she can have here. So I reckon it's all right, though I didn't -see at first how I could git along without her." - -All at once Clayton's heart seemed to shrivel and shrink. He fumbled -with the yellow mane of the broncho and with the reins that swung -against its neck. When he spoke after a little, trying to go on, his -voice was husky. - -"That woman is--" - -"Yes, I allow Mrs. Dudley is a fine woman!" - -Clayton's resolution failed utterly. - -"And she's smart," Jasper declared, "smart as a steel-trap; when she -talked with me about takin' Mary, and what she could do fer her, I -could see that. She's mighty good-lookin', too; though I don't think -anybody can come up in looks to my Mary. I wisht you could have seen -her with some of her new fixin's on, which Mrs. Dudley bought fer her. -She was certainly handsome. And she's goin' to enjoy herself there, I -don't doubt. I've already had a letter from her, tellin' me how happy -she is. I reckon I ought to be willin' fer her to have things her -mother never had, fer she's fit fer it, and not have to slave as her -mother did, and as I've always done. Yes, I reckon I'm glad she's -gone; though 'tis a bit lonesome here, fer I ain't got anybody with me -at all now, you see." - -Though Curtis Clayton had visited Sloan Jasper for the express purpose -of uttering a warning against Sibyl, he permitted Jasper to talk on, -and the warning words remained unsaid. Jasper was inexpressibily -lonely, now that his daughter was gone; yet it was plain that he would -not call her back, and equally plain that he knew she would not return -if he called never so loudly. And he was trusting that the thing he -could not help was the very best thing for the child he loved. Clayton -felt that he could not stir up in the heart of this man a useless, -peace-destroying, and perhaps a groundless, distrust. - -So he rode away as the night shadows were falling, and gathered a -great contempt for himself as he returned slowly homeward. He had no -right to judge Sibyl, and possibly, very probably, misjudge her, he -thought; yet he had a fear, amounting almost to conviction, that she -was not a woman to whom should be given the charge and training of -such a girl as Mary Jasper. That fear had sent him to Jasper; his -retreat seemed a cowardly flight. - -As for Mary, she was childishly happy in Denver. The only present -cloud on the sky of her life was that her father had not really wished -her to go. He had objected stoutly at first, but ever since her -mother's departure from the earthly Paradise, which had been full of -all manner of hard labor, to that upper and better one where, her -simple faith had assured her, she should toil no more, Mary had -contrived to do pretty much as she pleased. Her head was filled with -romantic ideas, garnered from Pearl Newcome's much-read novels. In -this matter, as in all others, she had taken her own way, like a -high-headed young horse clamping the bit tightly between its teeth and -choosing its road in defiance of the guiding rein. And her father had -submitted, when he could do nothing else, had admired and praised her -in the wonderful new clothing provided for her by Mrs. Dudley, and had -driven her to the station with her little trunk packed with pretty -trifles. He had kissed her good bye there, bravely enough, with hardly -a quiver in his voice, and so she had gone away. She recalled him -often now, standing, a pathetic figure, in his cheap clothing, waving -his hand to her as she looked from the car window to throw a kiss as a -final farewell. - -But this picture seldom troubled her long. Denver was too attractive -to the girl who had scarcely in her whole life seen a place larger -than the little town at the base of the familiar flat-topped mountain. -And what a gay, care-free life Denver led, as viewed by her through -the eyes of Mrs. Dudley! This was Vanity Fair, though Mary had never -even heard that name. Mrs. Dudley kept a carriage, which rolled with -shining wheels through the Denver streets to the merry tattoo of -trotting hoofs and the glint of silver-mounted harness. A driver sat -on the box in blue livery, and the easy sway and jounce of the springs -made her feel as if she were being lifted forward on velvet cushions. - -Young men and old men turned about to admire her and the woman who sat -by her side, as the carriage rolled along. Women looked at them, too, -sometimes with shining eyes of envy; looked at the carriage, at the -beautiful clothing, and the two bright faces. Mary wore jewels now, -and Sibyl had roped her slender neck with a heavy gold thread which -bore a neat little locket at its end. Into that locket Mary had put -the gnarled wisp of hair which in a moment of devotion at home she had -clipped from her father's head. To wear it now was something of a -penance for leaving him in his loneliness. - -Sibyl had a "set," which was very gay and overflowed with parties -where cards were played for favors, and in little dances which were -said to be very "select." Gay debonair men and handsomely dressed -women attended these dances and parties and made life one never-ending -round of merriment. Mary thought she had never known what it was to -really live until now. Sibyl delighted in her; the girl's fresh -flower-like face and inevitable gaucherie set off and added to Sibyl's -own attractiveness. - -Mary wrote to her father with religious regularity every Sunday. -Sunday was a religious day, and the writing of a letter to her father -was performed almost as a sacred duty, so that Sunday seemed the -appropriate day for it. She wrote also to Ben Davison, more fully than -to her father, describing to him the joys of her new mode of life, and -appealing to him not to be "savage" about her comments concerning some -of the young men she met. - -"Dear Ben," she said in one of her letters, "Sibyl Dudley is a perfect -darling. I am surprised that you didn't know she had been married. I -thought you knew all the time. She is divorced now, I think, though -she never says anything to me about it. I'm sure there must be a -beautiful romance in her life, as lovely as any of those Pearl reads, -for sometimes when she thinks I'm busy she sits for a long time -perfectly silent, as if thinking of something serious. But in spite of -that she is as gay and happy as can be. Yes, she is a darling; and so -are you, you old grumpy, grizzly bear! I wish you could send me a -pony--not a broncho! It would be such fun to go galloping on my own -pony through the streets. I ride a good deal, but these Denver horses -are such big things. Mrs. Dudley is a superb horsewoman. Is that -right, horsewoman?--it sounds funny, worse than cowboy. Sometimes when -we meet people she introduces me as her niece, and the people smile -and say how much we look alike. Isn't that funny, too?" - -Sibyl abounded in "charities," and had numbers of feeble men and old -women who devoutly, or otherwise, blest her shadow as she passed. -Under her tutelage Mary also found it pleasant to play Lady Bountiful. -It gave her quite as much comfort as the penning of that Sunday letter -to her father. Her father had lived a saving and scrimping life and -had never given anything to anybody, so that to Mary this was an -entirely new and pleasing phase of life's conduct. It made her feel so -superior to bestow with unstinting hand, and be blest for the largess, -as if the donor were a veritable gift-showering angel, or -luxury-distributing fairy, with red gold on her wings. - -All in all, Mary found Denver to be a place of unheard-of delights, in -which, especially to those who were not poor and in want, life passed -like one of the plays which she sometimes witnessed from a box in the -opera house, or after the fashion of the rollicking fanfare of the -romances in Pearl Newcome's wonderful trunk. And it was good, all of -it; much better than Paradise Valley, or even the society of Ben -Davison, though she was sure that she still loved Ben. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -A REVELATION OF CHARACTER - - -William Sanders did not forget nor forgive. - -He ceased to annoy Lucy Davison, and even in time affected to overlook -the humiliation to which he felt Justin had subjected him; but deep in -his heart he nursed both for Philip Davison and Justin an ineradicable -hate, which revealed itself at times in disputes fomented with the -farmers. - -Sanders' half-veiled enmity troubled Justin less than the discovery -which came to him one day of the innate dishonesty of Ben Davison's -character. - -Philip Davison was in one of the bunk rooms, paying off his "hands," -when Justin and Ben arrived from the high mesa where for a month they -had been line-riding together. Bronchos stood outside on the trampled -grass. Within, where the walls above the rude wooden bunks were hung -with bridles and quirts, saddles and ponchos, ropes and spurs, sat -Davison, at a small unpainted table, counting out money to his -employes and keeping a record of the amounts paid by writing names and -sums with a stub pencil in a soiled account book. Davison was fifty -years of age now, red-faced, blue-eyed, and bearded. Justin had -learned to admire and like him, for there were admirable traits in his -character. Though he swore horrible oaths at times, which he -complained a man had to do if he handled cattle and cowboys, he had -generally been kind to Justin, and he had conceived a fondness for -Clayton, whom he respected for his learning and skill as a physician. - -Having received his wages from the hands of Philip Davison, Justin -went out behind the bunk house, and was counting his bills in the -drizzle that was falling, when Ben appeared, his manner nervous and -his eyes shining. - -"I'm ahead this time!" he said. - -Then, to Justin's astonishment, he lifted one of his boots, and there, -sticking to the muddy sole, was a five-dollar bill. He pulled it away -with a chuckle, wiped off the mud as well as he could, and added it to -the pile in his hands. - -Justin stared at him, with a look which Ben resented. - -"Some money was on the table and the wind flirted that bill to the -floor. I set my boot on it, and when I walked out it walked out with -me." - -"You didn't do that!" - -"What's the difference? Father will never know! And he's got plenty -more where that came from. He only pays me beastly cowboy's wages, -when I'm his own son. So I helped myself, when I saw my chance." - -Justin's look showed reproof, and Ben flushed in angry irritation. - -"You'd tell, would you?" - -"That's stealing!" - -A flush of red waved into Ben's face. Stung by the inner knowledge of -his wrong, this blunt condemnation roused the latent devil in him. He -leaped at Justin blindly, and struck him in the face. - -Justin had never fought any one in his life, nor could he remember -that he had ever before been struck in anger. But when that blow fell -on his face with stinging force, his head became unaccountably hot, he -trembled violently, and with a hoarse cry gurgling from his lips he -sprang upon Ben and struck him to the earth with one blow of his fist. - -Having done that, he drew back, shaken and dismayed. He had knocked -Ben Davison down, when but a moment before they had been friends! He -stared at Ben, who had dropped heavily to the ground. Already he was -remorseful and almost frightened. Ben scrambled up, cursing. - -"I'll make you pay for that!" he said, wiping a speck of blood from -his trembling lips with his hand. - -"It--it was your fault! I--" - -Philip Davison came round the corner of the building upon this scene, -having heard the blows and the fall. He saw Ben's cut and quivering -lip, his clothing wet and muddy, and Justin standing before him with -hot, flushed face. - -"You struck Ben?" he cried. - -Ben was his pride. - -Justin looked at him, after an appealing glance at Ben. - -"Yes," he acknowledged, with humility and a feeling of repentant -uneasiness. He had gained Ben's enmity, and he feared he had lost -Philip Davison's regard, which he valued highly. - -Ben was crumpling together the wad of bills, and thrust them into his -pocket. - -"Yes, he struck me, but I hit him first," he confessed. "We had a -little quarrel, a few words, that's all." - -Though no larger than Justin, he was older, and it humiliated him to -confess even this much. - -Davison was annoyed and angry. - -"Go into the house, Ben," he commanded; "I'll see you later." - -When Ben was gone he turned to Justin. - -"I've tried to do right by you, Justin, and I've liked your work; but -you must remember that Ben is my son. I can't think that you had any -good reason to strike him." - -"I didn't intend to strike him," Justin urged, "and I shouldn't have -done so if he hadn't struck me first." - -"Well, I won't have you two quarreling and fighting. Just remember -that, will you?" - -"He struck me first!" said Justin, sturdily, though deeply troubled by -the knowledge that he had offended Philip Davison. - -Davison followed Ben into the house, leaving Justin weak and -bewildered. He had smothered his sudden explosive rage, yet he still -felt its influence. That he could have struck Ben in that way seemed -incredible; yet he tried to justify the deed to himself. He was about -to walk away, when Ben reappeared and came up to him. - -"Justin, you're a brick, to stand by a fellow that way! You knocked me -down, but I don't hold it against you, for you can keep your mouth -shut." - -"You still have that money?" - -"Of course." - -"I haven't changed my opinion about that!" - -Ben's face reddened again. - -"What if I did keep it? You're fussy, and you're a fool! What is my -father's is mine, or it will be mine some day; I just took a little of -it ahead of time, that's all. It will all be mine, when he goes over -the divide." - -Justin was horrified. Ben had expressed reckless and defiant views on -many subjects, but nothing like this flippant speculation concerning -his father's death. - -"I won't listen to you when you talk that way," he declared; and he -moved away. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -PIPINGS OF PAN - - -The result of this quarrel was that Justin was banished temporarily -from the ranch, though it was not assigned as the reason for his -exile. Fogg had been forced to take a flock of sheep in payment for a -debt owed him by a sheepman. The sheep were already in Paradise -Valley, and were to be sent at once into the mountains. Davison -ordered Justin to take charge of these sheep, and hurried shepherd and -flock into the hills, while Lucy was temporarily away from home. -Justin could not rebel against this order except mentally, if he -wished to remain in Davison's employment and retain, or regain, his -good-will. - -Before setting forth he left a letter for Lucy with Pearl Newcome, and -was sure she would get it. Yet he departed from the ranch with a heavy -heart; and as he went on his way he questioned why he and not another -had been selected for this life of lonely exile in the mountains. He -was almost sure it was because of his trouble with Ben. - -Justin was assisted in driving the sheep to the high altitudes, where -they were to graze until cold weather would make it advisable to bring -them into the lower foot-hills. A sufficient supply of food for a -month or more was taken along, and he was helped in the work of -erecting a brush-and-pole house. - -He was well up among the pines and aspens, where the nights are always -cool, with often a sharp frost even in mid-summer. Snow banks were in -sight, and here and there streams and small lakes of the purest ice -water. Occasionally a lordly elk crashed through a grove, or came out -with such suddenness on the lonely herder and his woolly charges that -it whistled and fled in astonishment. Black-tailed deer passed -frequently on the slopes, and now and then Justin came upon the track -of a bear. The only animals he could not love were the worthless -coyotes, that made life a burden to him and murdered sleep in their -efforts to slay the sheep. - -Of all, the sheep were the most vexatious and stupid, having no -originality of impulse, and being maddeningly, monotonously alike. -When hungry, in the earlier part of the day, they exhausted his -strength and that of his dog, as he followed them, while they swarmed -everywhere, nibbling, nibbling, with a continual, nerve-racking -"baa-a-a! baa-a-a!" Justin could not wonder that sheep-herders often -go mad. The sheep were more than two thousand in number; and to keep -anything like a count of them, so that he might be sure that the flock -was not being devastated by the sly coyotes, was trying work. - -But there were other times when he was given hours of lazy ease, when -he could lie with the faithful dog on the cool grass and look up into -the cool sky; could listen to the foaming plunge of the mountain -stream, to the fluttered whisperings of the aspens and the meanings of -the pines, and could watch the flirting flight of the magpies, or the -gambolings of playful deer. - -So Justin had much opportunity for thought; and his thoughts and -imaginings ran wide and far, with Lucy Davison and Doctor Clayton not -very far from both center and periphery wherever they ran or flew. -That he had been forced to come away without a parting word with Lucy -troubled him sorely. - -He had his mother's little Bible with him, containing the wisp of -brown hair, and the written flyleaf: - -"Justin, my baby-boy, is now six months old. May God bless and -preserve him and may he become a good man." - -He read in it much, in his leisure; and studied that writing many, -many times, thinking of his mother, and wondering about his father. -And he questioned as to what his life probably would have been if his -mother had lived, or if he had known of his father. Yet he was very -well satisfied to have it as it had been ordered. It had brought to -him Lucy Davison; and he might have missed her, if fate had not led -him to Paradise Valley and kept him there. - -He was quite sure that no father could have done more for him than -Clayton, nor loved him with a more unselfish love. To the missionary -preacher, Peter Wingate, and to Curtis Clayton, he acknowledged that -he owed all he was or could ever be. He thought very lovingly of -Clayton, as he lay on the cool slopes looking into the cool sky. - -And, indeed, the lonely doctor had been wondrously kind to the boy -whose life and future had been so strangely committed to his keeping. -Without intending anything in particular beyond the impartation of -knowledge, he had rounded, on the foundation laid by Peter Wingate, a -structure of character that combined singular sweetness with great -nobility and strength, for Justin had inherited from his mother -certain qualities of sturdy resolution which Clayton himself lacked. -The one great blemish, or fault, was a quick and inflammable temper, -that almost resisted control. - -Utterly unaware of the fact himself, as he lay thus among his sheep, -while his thoughts ranged far and wide, Justin was like that ruddy -David, youthful son of Jesse, with whose life story, told in his -mother's little Bible, he was so familiar, or like Saul in his boyhood -days. His lusty youth, his length of limb, his shapely head covered -with its heavy masses of hair, his tanned strong face with its kindly, -clear-cut profile, and his steady unwinking eyes that looked into the -blue skies with color as blue, all spoke of unrecognized power. - -He dreamed of the future, as well as of the past, building cloud -castles as unsubstantial as the changing clouds that floated above -him. He knew that many of them were but dreams. Others it seemed to -him might be made to come true, with Lucy Davison to help him. He did -not intend to remain either cowboy or sheep-herder, he was sure of -that; and he did not think he would care to become a doctor, like -Clayton. He would like to accomplish great things; yet if he could -not, he would like to accomplish the small things possible to him in a -manner that should be great. Not for his own sake--he felt sure it was -not for his own sake--but for Lucy and Clayton! He wanted to be worthy -of them both. - -It must be confessed that his wandering thoughts were chiefly occupied -with Lucy Davison. He delighted to recall those happy moments under -the cottonwoods. Always in his dreams she was true to him, as he was -to her; and she was longing for his letters, as he was for hers. - -Naturally, other things and people were often in Justin's thoughts. He -thought of Philip Davison, of Ben, with whom he had quarreled, and of -Mary Jasper and her father. With a keen sense of sympathy he pictured -Sloan Jasper plodding his slow rounds, trying to satisfy with his -horses and his cows that desire for loving companionship which only -the presence of his daughter could satisfy. He marveled that Mary -could leave her father to that life of loneliness for even the -gayeties of Denver. And thinking thus, he pitied Mary. - -Often Justin lay under the night sky, rolled in his blankets, when the -coyotes were most annoying, ready to leap up at the first alarm given -by the dog. He carried a revolver for use in defending the sheep -against the coyotes. This was a case in which, as he knew, even Curtis -Clayton would approve of slaying. He began to see clearly, too, in -this warfare with the coyotes, that nature, instead of being uniformly -kind, as Clayton liked to think, is often pitilessly cruel, and seems -to be in a state of armed combat in which there is never the flutter -of the white flag of truce. - -It was the visualizing to him of that age-old conflict in which only -the fittest survive. As he looked out upon this warring world, all the -animals, with few exceptions, seemed to be trying to devour all the -others. The coyotes slew the sheep, the mountain lions pulled down the -deer, the wild cats devoured the birds, and for all the fluttering, -flying insect life the birds made of the glorious turquoise skies an -endless hell of fear. - -Often there came to Justin under the night sky rare glimpses of the -wild life of the mountains. Playful antelopes gamboled by, all -unconscious of his presence, frisking and leaping in the light of -early morning, or scampering in wild rushes of fright when they -discovered his presence or the dog gave tongue; bucks clattered at -each other with antlered horns, or called across the empty spaces; -wild cat and cougar leaped the rocks with padded footfalls and -occasionally pierced the still air with screams as startling in their -suddenness as the staccato, Indian-like clamor of the coyotes. Always -wild cat, cougar and coyote brought Justin from beneath his blankets -with every sense alert, and sent the dog scurrying into the gloom in -the direction of the sound. - -Clayton's habits of study and writing had not been lost on Justin, and -now and then he tried to set down in his little note book some -description of the things that moved him. He composed letters, too, to -Lucy, many letters which he never meant to send. In them he told her -of his life with the sheep, and of how much he loved her. Often these -letters were composed, but not written at all. - -In one of those letters to Lucy which were not intended to be sent he -incorporated some of his thoughts concerning the farmers of the -valley, together with a bit of verse. The old hope of Peter Wingate -had come back to him for the moment, and he saw the valley as Wingate -saw it in his dream of the future: - - "The crooking plumes of the rice-corn, - The sorghum's emerald spear, - The rustle of blue alfalfa, - Out on this wild frontier, - Whisper of coming thousands, - Whose hurrying, eager tread - Shall change this mould into kerneled gold - And give to the millions bread. - - "Tis now but a dream prophetic; - The plover tilts by the stream, - The coyote calls from the hilltop, - And the----" - -Justin got no further. The impossibility of the fulfillment of that -dream had come to him as he sought to picture the present. - -When the driver of the "grub wagon" came with supplies and the news of -the ranch, he brought a letter from Lucy; and he took away a letter -for her, when he departed. The news from home was cheering. Outwardly -at least matters had not changed there. No one had come, and no one -had gone, and the usual work was going on. - -More than once the driver came, and each time Justin saw him depart -with unspoken longing. He would have given much to be privileged to go -back with him. Yet Justin was not and had not been lonely in the -ordinary meaning of that word; he was lonely for the companionship of -Lucy Davison, for the glance of her brown eyes, for the music of her -words; but, possessing that inner light of the mind in which Clayton -believed, it brightened his isolation as with a sacred fire, filled -the wooded slopes and craggy heights with life and beauty, and -suggested deep thoughts and deeper imaginings. - -Filled with dreams and work, with desire and accomplishment, the slow -months rolled by. With the descent of the snow-line on the high peaks -the sheep were driven into the foot-hills, and then on down into the -plain itself, where not only grass, but the various sages--black, -white, salt and bud sage--together with shad-scale and browse, -furnished an abundance of the food they liked. - -Then they were taken away, their summer herding having been a good -investment for Fogg; and Justin returned to Paradise Valley, -clear-eyed, sturdy, and handsomer even than before. He had learned -well the to him necessary lesson of patience, and had tasted the joy -of duty well done. More than all, he had begun to find himself, and to -know that childhood and youth had fallen from him, and that he was a -man. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE TRAGEDY OF THE RANGE - - -Justin was startled by the changes which had come to Paradise Valley -in the closing weeks of his long isolation in the mountains. Steve -Harkness and Pearl Newcome were married, and Lucy Davison had been -sent East to school. The latter filled him almost with a feeling of -dismay. Among the other changes to be noted was that William Sanders -had written letters to a number of farmers, some of whom were now in -the valley and had taken government land or purchased mortgaged -quarter-sections. - -Justin discovered, in talks with them, that these men had been -neighbors of Sanders on the irrigated lands at Sumner. They had sold -out there, as Sanders had done, and having heard from him of the -possibilities of Paradise Valley, they had moved to it, with their -families and belongings. Others, it was reported, were coming. Some of -them brought a few cows, as well as horses; and before the winter -storms came they erected cheap dug-outs for themselves, and prepared -flimsy shelters and cut wild hay for their stock. It was their -intention to try irrigation. - -Justin soothed his disappointment at not seeing Lucy Davison by -writing many letters to her, to which she replied sparingly. He was -away from home much of the time, riding lonely lines with other -cowboys. Whenever he came home and found no letter from Lucy he felt -discouraged; when one was there, he returned to his work cheered and -comforted. As for Ben, Justin saw little of him. Davison kept them -well apart, by giving them separate assignments. - -In the severest of the winter storms, when the grass of the range had -been covered with snow for many days, the cattle breached the fences, -and mingling with cattle from other ranches they began to roam over -the mesas and valley, a terror to the settlers, and as destructive as -the locusts of Egypt. The cowboys could do nothing with them; could -not hold them on the open lines, and could not repair the broken -fences in the bitter cold and the blinding snow. It was a repetition -in miniature of the days when the whole of the Great Plains was an -open range, and cattle, shelterless and without food, wandered in the -winter storms in pitiable distress, dying by thousands. - -As it was useless and perilous to try to ride any line, Justin and the -other cowboys came home. Justin's feet and hands were frosted, and he -went to Clayton's, where he remained, to have the benefit of Clayton's -medical skill as well as his companionship. - -Clayton was so troubled by the sufferings of the cattle that he could -talk of little else. From his frost-covered windows weary bands of the -starving animals could be seen ploughing through the drifts. In each -band the largest and strongest were usually in the lead, breaking a -way through the snow; the others followed, moving slowly and weakly, -in single file, across the white wastes, their legs raw and bleeding -from contact with the cutting snow-crust. Their hair was so filled -with fine snow beaten in and compacted that often they resembled snow -banks, and they were wild-eyed, and gaunt to emaciation. - -Now and then a band would turn on its course and move back along the -path it had broken, eating the frozen grass which the trampling had -uncovered. Nothing in the way of food came amiss. The dry pods and -stalks of the milk-weed and the heads of thistles protruding through -the snow were hungrily snatched at. Unfenced stacks of wild hay -prepared by the farmers and settlers for their own stock, disappeared -like snow drifts in the spring sun, unless the owners were vigilant -and courageous enough to beat back the desperate foragers. Many wild -combats took place between the cattle and the exasperated farmers, and -more than one man escaped narrowly the impaling horns of some -infuriated steer. It seemed cruel to drive the cattle from the food -they so much needed, but the farmers were forced to it. - -Even Clayton and Justin found it necessary to issue forth, armed with -prodding pitchforks, and fight with the famishing cattle for the stack -of hay which Clayton had in store for his horse. He had fenced it in, -but the cattle breached the fence and he could not repair it perfectly -while the storm lasted. - -"The cattle business as it is carried on in this country is certainly -one of the most cruel forms of cruelty to animals," Clayton declared, -as he came in exhausted by one of these rights for the preservation of -his little haystack. "The cattlemen provide no feed or shelter; in -fact, with their immense herds that would be an impossible thing; and -you see the result. Their method works well enough when the winters -are mild, but more than half of them are not mild. Yet," he continued -sarcastically, "the cattlemen will tell you that it pays! If they do -not lose over twenty per cent, in any one year the business can stand -it. Think of it! A deliberate, coldblooded calculation which admits -that twenty out of every hundred head of cattle may be sacrificed in -this method of raising cattle on the open range! And the owners of the -cattle will stand up and talk to you mildly about such heartless -cruelty, and dare to call themselves men! Even Fogg will do it. As for -Davison, I suppose he was born and bred to the business and doesn't -know any better. But it's a burning shame." - -Justin was stirred as deeply. Clayton's viewpoint had become his own. -It lashed his conscience to feel that he was in some slight measure -responsible for the condition he was witnessing. He was connected with -the Davison ranch, if only as an employee. As for holding the cattle -behind the fences and the open lines, that had not been possible; yet, -if it could have been done, their condition would have been worse. By -breaking away they were given more land to roam over, and that meant -more milk-weed pods and thistle heads, and more slopes where a bit of -frosted grass was bared by the knife-like winds, to say nothing of the -stacks of hay now and then encountered. - -Yes, it was a burning shame. Justin felt it; and he grew sick at heart -as day by day he watched that tragedy of the unsheltered range, where -hundreds of hapless cattle were yielding up their lives. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -WITH SIBYL AND MARY - - -On her way home for a brief visit at the close of the summer, which -she had spent in the East, Lucy Davison stopped in Denver, to visit -Mary Jasper, from whom she had received glowing letters. Mary had not -written for several weeks, and Lucy was surprised to find her ill; an -illness resulting from the unaccustomed excitement of the Denver life -she led under the guidance of Sibyl Dudley and the too sudden -transition from the quiet of Paradise Valley. She was not seriously -ill, however, and looked very attractive, as she lay propped about -with cushions and pillows, her dark hair framing her face and her dark -eyes alight with eagerness when Lucy appeared. Lucy was almost -envious, as she contemplated Mary's undeniable beauty. - -Sibyl lavished attention and care on her charge, and she greeted Lucy -with every evidence of delight and affection. - -"My dear, you are tired!" she said. "Let me have some cakes and tea -brought up for you at once. A little wine, or some champagne, would be -good for you. You wouldn't care for it? Then we'll have the tea and -cakes. And Mary may sit up in bed a few minutes, just in honor of this -visit. It was so good of you to stop off in Denver to see her." - -Sibyl was very beautiful herself, quite as beautiful as Mary, though -very much older. Lucy thought she had not aged a day in appearance -since she had first met her, in the home of that acquaintance in the -little town at the entrance to Paradise Valley. Sibyl was past-master -of that wonderful preservative art which defies wrinkles and gray -hairs and the noiseless flight of that foe of all beautiful women, -Time. She defied Time, as she defied everything, except the small -conventionalities of life, and the changing fashions. She made friends -with these, and they served her well. - -While talking with Lucy, and nibbling at the cake or sipping the tea, -she stopped now and then to caress with coaxing tones her canary, -which she had brought into the room and hung in its gilded cage at the -window to brighten the place for Mary. She possessed naturally, or had -cultivated, that soft, low voice which a Great Poet has declared to be -an excellent thing in a woman, and she had assiduously cultivated an -outward appearance of much kindness; so that altogether she was very -charming, even in the eyes of Lucy Davison, and a most agreeable -hostess. Mary was delighted with her. - -"Do you know," said Mary, in a burst of confidence, which a favorable -opportunity brought, "she is so good! And she is as kind to the poor -as she can be. I know of two old women, and one old man, whom she -nearly supports. Of course it isn't really any sacrifice for her to do -it, for she is wealthy. It's the funniest thing, the way she speaks -about it. She says she gives things to poor people just because the -giving makes her feel good. 'Give a quarter to a beggar,' she says, -'and you will feel warm inside all day. It is a cheap way to purchase -comfort.'" - -In that same conversation Mary chanced to mention Curtis Clayton. - -"I spoke of him to Mrs. Dudley one day, and I asked her if she knew -him." - -"'Oh, yes, I know him,' she said; 'he is a fool, a poor fool!' - -"'He looks so comical,' I said to her, 'swinging that stiff arm!' - -"Then she looked at me--oh, I can't tell you how funny her eyes were -then, just as if coals were shining behind them, and she said, awfully -quiet: - -"'I happen to know how he got that--it was by doing a brave and -unselfish deed! He was in love with a beautiful but silly girl, whom I -knew.' - -"Then she told me the story. He was with this girl on his vacation. He -was in Yale then, and she was the daughter of a worthless -hotel-keeper. He first met her at the hotel while he was spending a -summer in the mountains. She knew that he loved her, and she was vain -of it, and she wanted to make him show it. There was a flower growing -in a cleft of a canon, and she asked him to get it for her. He -descended. It was dangerous; and she, looking over and pointing out -the flower, lost her footing and fell. She was caught by some bushes, -but she had a good fall, and landed at a point where she could not get -up. The fright that he got by seeing her fall caused him to lose his -footing, and he slipped and broke his left arm. To get her up he had -to reach down with one hand and hold to an aspen with the other. He -could only hold with his right hand, for his left arm was broken; so -he dangled his broken left arm over for her to clutch; and she, -frightened and selfish, gripped the hand, and after a great effort -scrambled up. He held on until she was safe, and then (he had already -turned white as death) he fainted. He revived after a time, and they -got out of there, forgetting the flower; and though the doctors did -what they could, he has had a stiff arm ever since." - -Mary shivered a little, sympathetically. - -"I can't ever think of Doctor Clayton now without seeing him with that -girl, dragging her out of that place with his broken arm. I asked Mrs. -Dudley if the girl married him after all that; and she said yes, but -it would have been better for him if she hadn't, if she had gone to -her death in the canon that day, for she wasn't a girl who could ever -make any man happy. And do you know, I think it must have been that -girl who caused him to live the life he is living!" - -A sudden confusion had attacked Lucy Davison, who recalled certain -conversations with Justin. They were in the nature of sacred -confidences, so could not be mentioned even to Mary Jasper; but she, -at least, knew that Sibyl was herself the girl whom Clayton had drawn -from the canon with that dangling broken arm, and whom he had -afterward married. Why had he deserted her, or she him? And why were -they now living apart? Believing that the name of Sibyl's husband had -been Dudley, Mary had failed to guess the truth. - -Mary told Lucy that it would not be surprising if Mrs. Dudley married -again, as there was "just the dearest man" who called on her with much -frequency and seemed to be greatly enamored of her. - -"He has a funny little bald head," said Mary, "and he wears glasses, -the kind you pinch on your nose; he keeps them dangling against his -coat by a black cord. And he is as kind as kind can be, and a perfect -gentleman. Mrs. Dudley says he is very rich, and I really believe she -will marry him some time, for she seems to like him." - -The name of this amiable gentleman, Lucy learned, was Mr. Plimpton, -and he was a Denver stock broker. Neither Mary nor Lucy dreamed of the -truth of his relations with Sibyl Dudley. - -Having recurred to people and affairs in Paradise Valley, Mary -chattered on like a gay little blackbird, and knew she was very -bewitching, bolstered among the pillows. Her illness had taken some of -the color out of her cheeks, yet they still showed a rosy tint when -contrasted with the pillows, and the whiteness of the pillows -emphasized the color of her eyes and hair. She asked Lucy to move the -little dresser farther along the wall, that she might see herself in -the mirror. She desired to get certain stubborn tangles out of her -hair, she averred; but she really wanted to contemplate her own -loveliness. - -"Mrs. Dudley puts the dresser that way for me sometimes, even when I -don't ask her to; and often I lay for hours, looking into the mirror, -when she has gone out of the room. It's like looking into the clouds, -you know. You remember how we used to lie on the rocks there by the -edge of the Black Canon and look up at the clouds? We could see all -kinds of things in them--men and horses, and wild animals, and just -everything. When I let myself dream into the mirror that way I can see -the same things there. And sometimes I try to picture what my future -will be. Once I thought I saw a man's face looking out at me, and it -wasn't Ben's! Mrs. Dudley said I had been dreaming, and didn't see -anything, but it seemed real. I suppose I shall marry Ben, of course, -just as you will marry Justin." - -Lucy's face flushed. - -"I don't see why that should be a matter of course!" - -"So you've seen some one in the East who is better looking? You can't -fool me! I know! What's his name?" - -"Truly I haven't seen any one in the East who is better looking. I -wasn't thinking of anything of the kind." - -"Then he is still the best looking, is he? If you still think so, it's -a sure sign that you'll marry him. That's why I think I shall marry -Ben. I haven't seen any one in Denver I like as well as Ben, or who is -as good looking; and one has a chance to see a good many men in a city -like this." - -"Has Ben been to call on you?" - -"Oh, yes; he was here only last week. When I first came up here I -couldn't get him to call, though I was told I might invite him. But -when he got started he kept coming and coming, and now he comes almost -too often. Mrs. Dudley has been very kind and good to him, and -sometimes I'm almost jealous, thinking he likes her almost as much as -he does me. I should be truly jealous, I think, if I didn't know about -Mr. Plimpton." - -She studied her mirrored reflection, wondering if it could be possible -for Ben to find Mrs. Dudley, who was so much older and had already -been married, more charming than herself. It was so unpleasant a -thought that she frowned; and then, remembering that frowns will spoil -even the smoothest forehead, she drove the frown away, and began to -talk again. - -Though Lucy Davison would not admit it, she was anxious to hasten on -to Paradise Valley; so she remained but a day with Mary Jasper. Yet in -that time Sibyl contrived to exhibit to her the carriage, the -magnificent horses and the liveried driver, taking her as she did so -on a long drive through some of the fashionable streets and avenues. - -As the carriage swung them homeward Sibyl made a purchase of fruits -and flowers, with which she descended into a shabby dwelling. When she -came out she was followed to the door by a slatternly woman, who -curtsied and thanked her volubly with a foreign accent. - -"She's an Italian--just a dago, as some people say--but her husband -has been sick for a month or more, and I try to brighten her home up a -bit. I don't know what he does when he's well; works for the railroad, -I believe." - -Then the carriage moved on again, away from the cheap tenements, and -into the wealthier sections once more, where Sibyl lived. - -"You mustn't tell father that I'm sick," was Mary's parting injunction -to Lucy. "If he knew he might want me to come home. I will be entirely -well by another week. I write to him every Sunday, just as if I was in -the best of health; and so long as I don't tell him he thinks I'm as -well as ever. And truly I am as well as ever, or will be in a few -days. If you tell him anything, tell him I'll be down to see him this -fall. I thought I should go last winter, but those awful storms came -on, and I was so busy besides, that I just didn't. But I do think of -him often, and you may tell him that, too, if you tell him anything." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WHEN AMBITION CAME - - -Lucy Davison was seldom absent from Justin's mind; and he was thinking -of her as he drove to town to make some purchases for Pearl, who, -though married, was still the housekeeper at the ranch. The knowledge -that Lucy was to arrive at home in a short time filled him with -longing and delight. - -As he drove along he could but note the appearance of the valley, and -the houses of the new settlers and the old. Sanders had purchased more -land, and had moved his dug-out close up to the trail and much nearer -to the river. He had been indefatigable in his efforts to induce -settlers to come into the valley, and successful to a degree that -surprised Justin and the Davisons, Of the newer arrivals several were -men of force and intelligence. They had given the valley their -approval, and had set to work. - -Sanders, it now appeared, had sold his land at Sumner for a -considerable sum of money. At Sumner, irrigation was being practiced -successfully. He was firm in his belief that Paradise Valley could be -irrigated as easily, and would make an agricultural section as rich. -Therefore, he and the new farmers, joined by certain of the older -ones, among them Sloan Jasper, had built a dam across the stream near -Jasper's and turned the water thus secured into some small canals, -from which laterals conveyed it to the places where it was required. - -They were working under unfavorable conditions, however; their dam was -cheaply and hastily constructed, and the canals and ditches being new -sucked up the water almost as fast as it could be turned into them. - -Naturally Davison and Fogg were not pleased. The water which the -farmers were using decreased the supply in the water-holes, and -threatened suffering for the cattle if a dry season came on. They did -not accept the theory promulgated by the farmers, that the water would -find its way back through the soil into the stream. That the new -enterprise troubled the ranchmen gave secret joy to William Sanders, -whose bitter and vindictive mind was filled with ineradicable hatred -of Davison and all connected with him. To strike a blow at Davison -delighted him immeasurably. - -Justin had a dusty drive that afternoon, for the land was dry. For -several days a strong south wind had been blowing, and the mountain -was draping its wide shoulders in misty vapor. These were good -portents of rain; and when rain came at that season, after a period of -drought, it came usually in a heavy storm. - -Ben Davison had set out for the town ahead of Justin, on his pony. Ben -had practically ceased to work on the ranch, except at intervals. He -was much in the company of Clem Arkwright, and enjoyed certain -pleasures of the town, to which Arkwright had introduced him. For one -thing, Arkwright played a game of poker that few men could beat. -Arkwright was a small politician, and by virtue of that fact held the -office of justice-of-the-peace. Arkwright had thrown his political -following to Ben's support, in a recent county convention; and that, -with the influence of Davison and Fogg, had given to Ben Davison the -nomination to the state legislature. - -As the bronchos climbed to the summit of a low divide, giving a long -view of the trail, Justin saw Ben, far ahead, nearing the town. It -gave him thought. Ben was not only ahead of him on the trail that day, -but in other ways. - -That summer of patient toil and sturdy thought spent high in the -mountains with the sheep had brought to Justin the knowledge that he -was now a man. As a man he was beginning to feel that he must do -something, must set about the work of making a place and a name for -himself in the world. Influenced by the idealist, Clayton, and by his -love for Lucy, he had heretofore fed on love and dreams. He still -loved, and he still dreamed, but he knew now that to these must be -added action and accomplishment. - -No one understood Ben Davison's unworthiness more thoroughly than -Justin. Because of the influence of his father and the support given -to his candidacy by a tricky politician Ben was apparently on the high -road to political preferment and honors. His name was mentioned in the -Denver dailies, and his picture was in the county paper. - -Philip Davison was pleased, probably Lucy was pleased also, and Justin -felt that he really ought to look upon the matter in a kindly and -amiable light. Yet, even as he thought so, he felt his heart burning. - -"I might have had that nomination, if things had been different!" - -That was Justin's thought. He knew to the core of his being that in -every way he was better qualified than Ben Davison to fill that -important place. He had not only mental but moral qualities which Ben -totally lacked. In addition, the position and the honor appealed to -his growing desire to be something and do something. It would give -opportunity to talents which he was sure he possessed. Denver -represented the great world beyond, where men struggled for the things -worth while. Ben Davison would go to Denver, become a member of the -legislature, and would have the doors of possibility opened to him, -when he had not the ability nor the moral stamina to walk through them -when they were opened, and he--Justin--would remain--a cowboy. - -When Justin reached the town, which consisted of a double row of frame -houses strung along the railroad track, he hitched the bronchos to the -pole in front of one of the stores and proceeded to the purchase of -the groceries required by the housekeeper. That done he walked to -the postoffice for the ranch mail. As he came out with it in his hands -and began to look over the county paper, where he saw Ben Davison's -name and political qualifications blazoned, he observed several men -converging toward a low building. Over its door was a sign, "Justice -of the Peace." - -"Arkwright's got a trial on to-day," said one of the men, speaking to -him. "You ranchers air gittin' pugnacious. Borden has brought suit -against Sam Turner for the killin' of them cattle. I s'pose you heard -about it?" - -Justin's interest was aroused. He was acquainted with both Arkwright -and Borden, and he knew of the killing of the cattle, but he had not -heard of the lawsuit. Borden's ranch lay over beyond the first mesa, -along Pine Creek. It had been established since the Davison ranch. Not -all the line between the two ranches was fenced, and the open line -Justin had ridden for a time with one of Borden's cowboys. - -There were a few settlers along Pine Creek, one of them being Sam -Turner, a young farmer from Illinois. Justin remembered Turner well, -and Turner's wife, a timid little woman wholly unfit for the life she -was compelled to live in this new country. She had a deathly fear of -Borden's cowboys, a fear that was too often provoked by their actions. -They were chiefly Mexicans and half-breeds, a wild lot, much given to -drinking, and often when they came riding home from the town in their -sprees they came with their bronchos at a dead run, firing their -revolvers and yelling like Indians as they swept by Turner's house. -Whenever she saw them coming Mrs. Turner would catch up her little -girl in her arms, dart into the house, lock and bar the doors, and -pull down the blinds. The cowboys observed this, and it aroused them -to even wilder demonstrations; so that now they never passed Turner's -without a fusillade and a demoniacal outburst of yells. - -The death of the cattle had come about through no fault of Turner. -They had simply broken down a fence during a storm, and getting into -Turner's sorghum had so gorged themselves with the young plants that -some of them had died. It did not seem to matter to Borden that -Turner's sorghum had been devoured. In his rage over his loss Turner -had threatened violence, and Borden was answering with this suit for -damages for the loss of the cattle. - -Justin squeezed into the midst of the crowd that already filled the -office. Clem Arkwright's red face showed behind his desk, which was -raised on a platform. Justin, still thinking of Lucy and Ben, looked -at Arkwright with interest. He did not admire Arkwright himself, but -Ben Davison thought highly of him, and that was something. A heap of -law books was stacked on Arkwright's desk. A pair of pettifogging -lawyers had been kicking up a legal dust, and one of them, Borden's -lawyer, was still at it. As the lawyer talked, Clem Arkwright took -down one of the books and began to examine a decision to which his -attention was called. - -While Arkwright looked at the decision, the lawyer went right on, -pounding the book he held in his hand and shaking his fist now and -then at the justice and now and then at Sam Turner and the opposing -lawyer. Turner sat with his counsel, and at intervals whispered in his -ear. Justin had never attended a trial and he found it interesting. -His sympathies were with Turner. - -From the claims made by Borden's lawyer, it appeared that Sam Turner -was wholly in the wrong. He should have guarded his crops or fenced -his land. He had done neither, and as a result Borden's cattle had -lost their lives and Borden had sustained financial loss. Borden was -not required to maintain a fence, nor to employ riders to hold the -cattle beyond any certain imaginary line, the lawyer maintained; but -he had kept riders so employed, and had built a fence on a part of his -range. He had done these things, that his cattle might not become -mixed up with cattle belonging to other ranches, and particularly, as -it appeared, in pure kindness of heart, that they might not trespass -on the farms of such men as the defendant. It was admitted that Turner -had a perfect right to live on and cultivate his land; it was his, to -do with as he pleased, by virtue of title conveyed to him by the -government under the homestead laws. But he was compelled, if he -wished to prevent trespass of this kind, to erect and maintain a -stock-tight fence, or guard his land in some other substantial way; -and having failed to do that, he should be mulcted in damages for the -loss sustained by the plaintiff. - -Justin was listening with much interest to the argument of Borden's -lawyer, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning about he beheld -William Sanders. - -"We want to see you outside a minute er two," said Sanders. - -He tried to smile pleasantly, but there was a queer gleam in his -little eyes. - -"All right," said Justin, wondering what Sanders could want. - -Several farmers and a few of the citizens of the town were awaiting -him outside, he discovered, and had sent Sanders in to get him. - -"We want to have a talk with you about the election," said one of -them. "We'll go into that back room over there; we've got the -privilege of using it awhile." - -Sloan Jasper shambled up, his hands in his pockets. - -"Howdy, Justin!" he exclaimed, with an anxious smile. "I've been -talkin' round a bit amongst my friends, and what I've said about you I -don't take back for any man." - -Somewhat bewildered, Justin accompanied these men into the vacant room -they had indicated, back of one of the stores. Here William Sanders -established himself at a small table; the doors were closed, the men -dropped into seats, and Sanders rapped with his knuckles for order. -That queer gleam still shone in his little eyes. - -"Gentlemen," he said, rising, "I'm goin' to ask Mr. Jasper to set out -the object of this meetin'. Me and him talked it up first, I guess; -and he understands it as well as I do, and maybe can set it out -better." - -Sloan Jasper shambled to his feet, declaring that he was no speaker; -and then proceeded to a heated denunciation of the ranchmen and their -methods. - -"How many times have they tramped me an' my farm under foot as if we -was muck?" he asked. "That trial over there before that scoundrel, -Arkwright, is a sample of it. They've run the county till they think -they own it. But they don't own me! Justin hyer is a cowboy and can -draw cowboy votes. We all think well of him, because we know he can be -depended on to do the fair thing by everybody. That's all we're -askin'--the fair thing; we don't want to take advantage of anybody, er -injure anybody; but we do intend to protect ourselves, and to do it -we've got to stand together, and stand up fer men who will stand up -fer us. There's certain things that will come before this next -legislature in which we're interested. If Ben Davison sets in it as -the representative frum this county he'll vote ag'inst us every time. -Now, there's a lot o' men in this town who don't like him, ner -Arkwright; and all over the county it's the same way. So I say if -we'll stand together, us farmers, as one man, and can git somebody -that the cowboys like to run ag'inst Ben Davison, we can beat him out -of his boots, fer he ain't popular, though the newspaper and his -friends is tryin' to make it out that he is. And that's why we're -hyer--a sort of delegation of the farmers an' the people of the town -who have talked the thing over; an' we're goin' to ask Justin Wingate -to make the race fer us ag'inst Ben Davison. If he does it, we'll take -off our coats and work fer him until the sun goes down on the day of -election; and so help me God, I believe as truly as I stand hyer, that -we can elect him, and give Ben Davison the worst beatin' he'll ever -git in his life." - -Sloan Jasper sat down with flushed face, amid a round of applause. -Before Justin could get upon his feet, William Sanders was speaking. -He said he had come to see that Justin was the man they wanted--the -man who could make the race and have a chance of winning; and for that -reason he favored him, and would do all in his power for him, if he -would run. - -Justin was confused and gratified. His pulses leaped at the bugle call -of a new ambition. He knew how justly unpopular Ben was. It was -possible, it even seemed probable, that if he became the candidate of -the men who would naturally oppose the ranching interests he could -defeat Ben Davison. But would not such an attempt be akin to -treachery? He was in the employ of Philip Davison. - -"I don't think I ought to consider such a thing," he urged, in some -confusion, without rising to his feet. "Mr. Davison has treated me -well. I want to remain on friendly terms with him and with Ben. I -couldn't do that, if I ran against Ben. I'm obliged to you, just the -same, you know, for the compliment and the honor; but, really, I don't -think I ought to consider it." - -He saw these men believed that he and Ben Davison were not on terms of -good friendship; on that they based their hope that he would become -their candidate. They were not to be dissuaded easily, and they -surrounded him, and plied him with appeals and arguments. - -"We'll give you till Thursday to think it over," they said, still -hoping to win him. "We're going to put some one up against Ben, and -you're the one we want." - -Though Justin did not retreat from his declaration that it was a thing -he should not consider, they observed that he did not say he would not -consider it. The stirrings of ambition, the flattery of their words, -and the gratifying discovery that the world regarded him now as a -full-grown man, kept him from saying that. - -Just beyond the town, as he proceeded homeward, he was overtaken by -Ben Davison, who had ridden hard after him on his pony. Ben's face was -white, his eyes unnaturally bright, and his hand shook on his -bridle-rein. - -"I've been hearing that talk in town," he began, "and I want to know -about it!" - -Justin felt the hot blood sing in his ears. With difficulty he crowded -down the violent temper that leaped for utterance. - -"What did you hear?" he asked. - -"That you intend to run against me." - -Justin gave him a look that made the shining eyes shift and turn away. - -"Some of the farmers, and others, want you to run," said Ben. - -"Yes, that is true." - -"And do you intend to?" - -"I haven't said that I did." - -"Well, I want to know!" - -"What if I decline to answer?" - -Ben changed his tone. - -"It will make trouble for me, if you run. If you keep out of it I've -got the thing cinched--they can't beat me, for I will pull the cowboy -vote. You might split that vote. I don't say I think you could be -elected, for I don't; but it would make me a lot of trouble, and would -kick up bad feeling all round." - -"In what way?" said Justin, speaking coldly. He was studying Ben -closely; he had never seen his face so white nor his eyes so -unnaturally bright. - -"Well, with father, for one thing. He wouldn't like it; he wants me to -be elected, and has already spent a lot of money." - -"Ben," said Justin, speaking slowly, "you have yourself to blame -largely for this stirring up of the farmers. You have made them hate -you. They will put up some one against you, whether I run or not." - -"They can't beat me, unless they run some fellow who can swing the -cowboy vote, and they know it. That's why they came to you." - -"Yes; they said it was." - -"You told them you wouldn't run?" - -"I told them I ought not consider it." - -"Well, that's right; you oughtn't." - -"But I want you to understand, Ben, that I have just as good a right -to run as you have!" - -"I don't think so; not while you're working for father, and when I'm -already in the race." - -Mentally, Justin acknowledged that this was a point well taken. - -"You won't run?" said Ben, anxiously. - -Justin hesitated, shifting uneasily on the high spring seat. - -"N-o, I hardly think I ought to." - -"Thank you! I wanted to make sure." - -Ben wheeled his pony, and galloped back toward the town. - -"Am I easy?" Justin asked himself, as his eyes followed the receding -figure. "But, really, it does seem that I oughtn't to think of such a -thing, under the circumstances. Davison would be angry--and I don't -suppose Lucy would be at all pleased." - -He drove on, turning the matter over in his mind, recalling with -pleasure the flattery of the farmers, and wondering why Ben Davison's -face looked so unnaturally white and his eyes so bright. He knew that -anger alone was not the cause. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -IN THE STORM - - -The threatened rainstorm broke, bringing early night, as Justin -reached home. Lemuel Fogg was at the ranch house with Davison. Fogg's -shining photograph wagon had been brought out and a pair of horses -hitched to it. - -"Ben isn't here," said Davison; "I suppose he's in town, looking after -election matters; so, as soon as you can get those things into the -house, I want you to ride along the line fence and see that everything -is all right, for we don't want any cattle breaking out and making -trouble with the farmers just now. Fogg and I are going up the trail -together in his wagon. He wants to get a photograph. We'll be near the -dam, or a short distance below it, where Jasper's lateral makes out -into his fields. I think you will find us at the bridge there over the -lateral, and you can come there and make your report, when you've -looked at the fence. Report promptly, if there's any trouble." - -Fogg came out of the house in oil hat and slicker, buttoned to the -chin against the storm. He resembled a yellow, overgrown Santa Claus, -minus the beard. - -"Hello, Justin!" he cried, advancing and extending his hand, as Justin -swung a bag of meal to the ground. "We're in for a good ground-soaker, -I guess. The lightning is beginning to play fine. It's great over -there on the mountain. When she gets to going good I'll try to nail -one of the flashes down on a negative. I've tried a dozen times and -failed; now I'm going to try again." - -Having shaken hands, Fogg ran heavily toward the wine-colored wagon; -the rain was beginning to roar, and the interior of the wagon, as he -knew, was as tight as a house. Then the shining wagon whirled away, -with the rain drops glistening on it, revealed by the lightning, which -was already waving fiery swords in the sky. - -Justin followed on his cow-pony as quickly as he could, garbed like -Fogg in a yellow oil slicker, and galloped along the wire fence that -ran here toward the town. It was not a pleasant ride. The gusty rain -beat in his face and the wind blew a tempest. The lightning, -increasing in frequency, showed the fence intact, as far as the lower -end of the deep chasm called the Black Canon, which cut through the -mesa above Jasper's. There was no need to go farther than this, for he -had inspected that portion of the fence earlier in the day. - -The storm was in full swing before he reached Jasper's lateral. He -followed it until he came to the tiny bridge that spanned it, and -there found the photograph wagon. Sheltered within the wagon, Fogg had -trained his camera toward the mountain. There the play of the -lightning had become something stupendous. Davison was trying to hold -the bronchos and keep them quiet in the beating rain. - -"I've taken several exposures already," Fogg announced, when Justin -made his appearance and his report. "If those horses can be kept still -another minute I'll try it there just over the dam." - -A blinding flash burned across the sky. It was so vivid that Justin -closed his eyes against it. The burst of the thunder, like the -explosion of a cannon, was thrown back by the stony walls of the -mountain, and rolled away, booming and bellowing in the clouds. The -thunder roll was followed shortly by a confused and jarring crash. - -"I got that flash all right, I think," said Fogg, "and there goes the -side of the mountain!" - -Landslides occurred occasionally on the sides of the mountain, and -Fogg thought this was one. - -"No," Davison shouted, "it's--the dam!" - -Another crash was heard, accompanied by a popping of breaking timbers; -then, with a roar like a cyclone, the dam went out, sweeping down the -swollen stream in a great tangle of logs and splintered timbers. -Justin galloped toward the stream. - -"Better look out there, Justin," Fogg bellowed at him. "That will -bring the river out on the jump, and you don't want to get caught by -it!" - -Justin heard the wagon being driven away from the little bridge. It -was an exciting minute, yet he had time to think with regret of what -the loss of the dam would mean to the farmers. His reflections were -cut short by a scream, followed by a cry for help. - -Then in the lightning's white glare he saw on the ground before him a -woman clinging to the prostrate form of a man. Justin galloped wildly, -and reaching them leaped down. To his amazement the woman was Lucy -Davison and the man was Ben. She had apparently dragged him beyond the -reach of the water that splashed and rolled in a wild flood but a few -yards away. - -"Help me," she said, without explanation. "He--he is hurt, I think." - -Justin had his arms round Ben instantly, and began to lift him. The -rain was falling in sheets, and both Lucy and Ben were drenched. Ben -began to help himself, and climbed unsteadily to his feet, with -Justin's assistance. Only in the intervals between the vivid lightning -flashes could Justin see either Ben or Lucy. - -"I'm--I'm all right!" said Ben, staggering heavily. - -"I'm afraid he was hit by one of the timbers of the dam," Lucy -declared. - -To Justin she seemed abnormally brave. She took hold of Ben's arm and -assisted in supporting him. - -"We must get him to the house--to Jasper's," she urged, tremulously. - -"The photograph wagon is right over there," Justin informed her. -"We'll take him to that. If you'll lead my horse maybe I can carry -him." - -"I don't need to be carried," said Ben, stubbornly. "I tell you I'm -all right. I slipped and fell--that's all. Take your hands off of me; -I can walk." - -Lucy clung to him, and Justin did not release his hold. He hallooed -now to Davison and Fogg. They did not hear him in the roar of the -storm, but by the glare of the lightning they saw the little group -swaying near the margin of the wild stream and drove back to discover -the meaning of the strange sight. They shouted questions of surprise, -as they came up. Justin had not attempted to voice his bewilderment. - -Lucy became the spokesman of the group. - -"Uncle Philip, we will explain later," she said, with emphasis. "The -first thing is to get Ben home." - -"Yes, that's so!" Davison admitted, his anxiety for Ben betrayed in -his shaking voice. - -Ben was helped into the photograph wagon; where he would not lie down, -but insisted on sitting in the driver's seat. Justin assisted Lucy -into the wagon. It was a large wagon, in which Fogg had lived and -slept in the old days when he went about taking photographs and -selling curios. Justin wished he might climb in there by Lucy's side, -and do something, or say something, that would allay her evident -distress. Her voice was unnaturally hard, and her manner singularly -abrupt and emphatic. He knew that she was suffering. - -And he had not known she was in Paradise Valley! That was the most -inexplicable of all--that she should be there and no one on the ranch -aware of the fact. - -"She must have arrived on the evening train," was his conclusion. - -However, that explained little. How did she and Ben chance to be -there by the river? Had they been walking home from the town -together--through the storm? Where was Ben's pony? That might have -escaped from him, or he might have left it somewhere; but the other -question was not to be answered readily. The whole subject was so -cloaked in the mysterious that it seemed to defy analysis. - -The storm still raged, with sheets of beating rain, with lightning -fire and roll of thunder, as the wagon moved swiftly in the direction -of the ranch house along the soaked and gullied trail. And behind it, -galloping on his cow-pony, rode Justin, pondering the meaning and the -mystery of the things he had seen and heard. - -Yet through it all there was a certain sense of joy and gratification. -He had been able to serve the woman he loved, and she was here at -home. The first long, long separation was ended--she was home again. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -A FLASH OF LIGHTNING - - -As the photograph wagon was halted at the gate which led to the ranch -house grounds Lucy Davison spoke to Justin, from the rear of the -wagon. Her tones were solicitous, and anxious: - -"Justin," she said, "it's too bad to have to ask you to do it in this -storm, but I wish you would go back to Mr. Jasper's and get Ben's -pony, which he left there in the stable. I have a horse there, too, -which I rode out from town. Get both of them, and put them in the -stable here. You won't mind the extra trip? I ought to have spoken to -you of it before." - -Justin was about to assure her that he would go willingly; when she -continued, in lower tones: - -"And Justin! Don't say anything about getting the horses from there, -please. I will tell you why later. And I will explain everything to -Uncle Philip." - -She had lifted the closed flap that protected the rear end of the -wagon, and in the flame of the lightning which still burned across the -skies he saw her pale and anxious face. She had always been beautiful -in his eyes, but never more so than at that moment, while making this -distressed appeal, even though her clothing exuded moisture and her -hair was plastered to her head by the rain. Her pleading look haunted -him for hours afterward. - -"I'll go," he said promptly, "and I will have the horses here in a -little while." - -"Thank you, Justin," she said, in a way she had never spoken to him -before. "And say nothing to anybody! I think you will not find Mr. -Jasper at home; but you know where the stable is, and how to get into -it." - -The wagon rolled on into the ranch house grounds, where Ben was helped -out and into the house; and Justin galloped back along the trail to -Sloan Jasper's, having been given another surprise and further food -for thought. - -When he returned with Ben's pony and the horse Lucy had hired in the -town, and had put them in the stable with his own dripping animal, he -entered the ranch house. Pearl opened the door for him; and as he -removed his wet slicker he heard Philip Davison explaining to Steve -Harkness that the farmers' dam had been torn out by the storm. Then -Fogg came toward him, and in the light at the farther end of the long -hall he saw Lucy, who had changed her clothing and descended from her -room. Ben Davison was not to be seen. - -"I reckon you're as wet as they make 'em," said Fogg, "but, just the -same, if you'll step in here we'll see what I've got on this plate." - -He was on his way to the dark room he had fitted up in the house for -his photographic work. - -Lucy came up to Justin, as Fogg walked on to this room. She looked him -anxiously in the face. - -"Yes, I brought the horses?" he said, interpreting the look. - -"And said nothing to any one?" - -"I have spoken to no one." - -She thanked him with her eyes. - -"You are just soaked," she said, "and you ought to go out to the bunk -rooms and get dry clothing at once. I don't want to have you get sick -because of that." - -"A little wetting won't hurt me, and I'm going in here before I change -my clothes. Fogg wants to show me his picture, if he got one." - -He followed Fogg, and she went with him, without invitation. - -"What sort of picture did he take? I heard him saying something about -it." - -"He was trying to photograph a flash of lightning. I don't know how he -succeeded." - -He stopped at the doorway and might have said more, if Fogg had not -requested him to come on in and close the door. - -"This is the last plate I exposed, and I'm going to try it first," -said Fogg, as he made his preparations. - -Fogg was an enthusiast on the subject of photography, and had long -desired to catch a lightning flash with his camera. - -"If I haven't got it now I'll never have a better chance. That flash, -just before the dam broke--wasn't it great? The whole sky flamed in a -way to blind a fellow. For a second or so I couldn't see a thing. I -had the camera focussed and pointed just right to get that in great -shape, it seems to me. Now we'll see the result." - -He placed the plate in the tray and turned the developer on it. Justin -and Lucy were standing together, with heads almost touching, watching -with interest to see the picture appear. - -"I've got something, anyhow," said Fogg, when he saw the streak which -the lightning had printed stand out, as it were, on the plate. "I -think I've got a picture of the dam, too. The camera was trained on -the mountain, right across the top of the dam; I thought if I got the -lightning I might have a great combination, with the dam and other -things showing." - -"You've got the lightning flash all right," said Justin, bending -forward. - -"Yes, that's coming out great; see the image develop!" - -He stopped, with a whistle of astonishment. - -"Hello!" he exclaimed. "What's this?" - -A remarkable picture was coming--had come--into view. Fogg stared, -with rounded eyes; Lucy uttered a little cry of dismay and fright; -Justin caught his breath with a gasp of astonishment. - -Small wonder. On the end of the dam nearest the trail two human -figures were shown--a man standing on the dam with axe descending and -a woman rushing toward him over the slippery logs. The figures were -not large, but they were portrayed clearly. They were the figures of -Ben and Lucy Davison, caught there by the camera, in the mad turmoil -of the lashing storm. - -For a moment not a word was spoken, while the figures seemed to swim -more clearly into view. Lucy broke the dead silence. - -"May I see that plate, Mr. Fogg?" - -Her voice was repressed and hard, as if she struggled with some -violent emotion. - -"I--don't--why, yes, of course, look at it all you want to. But I -don't--" - -The sentence was broken by a crash of falling glass. Lucy had either -dashed the plate to the floor, or had let it fall in her agitation. - -Justin almost leaped when he heard that sound. Lucy looked at him, and -for a moment he thought she was going to cry out. But again she spoke, -turning to Fogg. - -"Well, I'm glad it's broken!" she declared, nervously. "You saw what -you saw, Mr. Fogg; but there is no reason why you should remember it. -I hope you won't. Perhaps one of the other plates will show a -lightning flash. You couldn't have used this, anyway." - -"Well, may I be--" Fogg caught himself. "Lucy, you broke that -intentionally!" - -She turned on him with flashing eyes. - -"Mr. Fogg, I did. You saw what was in that picture. You know what it -told, or you will know when you think it over. I broke it so that it -could never be used or seen by anybody. I'm glad I saw it just when I -did. I beg your pardon, but I had to do it." - -Was this the Lucy Justin fancied he knew so well? He was astonished -beyond measure. - -"Yes, I guess you're right," Fogg admitted, as soon as he was able to -say anything. "That dam went out, and--yes, I guess you're right! It -wouldn't do for that picture to be seen. I've been wondering how you -happened to be where we found you, and what you and Ben were doing -there." - -"Mr. Fogg," her tones were sharp, "don't accuse me even in your mind; -I had nothing to do with it, but tried to stop it." She hesitated. -"And--whatever you think, please don't say anything to Uncle Philip; -not now, at any rate; and don't tell him about the picture." - -She turned to the door. - -"Justin," she said, and her tones altered, "I'll see you to-morrow; or -this evening, if you like." - -"This evening," he begged; and following her from the room, he hurried -out to the bunk house to shift into dry clothing. - -When he saw her again, in the little parlor, she was pale, and he -thought she had been crying, but her agitation and her strange manner -were both gone. He came to the window where she stood, and with her -looked out into the stormy night. The white glare of the lightning -illuminated the whole valley at times. About the top of the mountain -it burned continually. The cottonwoods and willows were writhing by -the stream. On the roof and the sides of the house the dashing rain -pounded furiously. - -"Justin," she said, as he stood beside her, "I must explain that to -you. You know what that picture meant?" - -He wanted to fold her in his arms and comfort her, when he heard her -voice break, but he checked the desire. - -"I could guess," he said. - -"I came down from Denver on the late train, having missed the earlier -one." - -"I was in town when the earlier one came in," he informed her, -regretting for the moment that his too speedy return had kept him from -meeting her there. "If I had known you were coming!" - -She looked at him fondly, as in the old days. How beautiful she was, -though now very pale! He felt that he had not been mistaken in -thinking her the most beautiful girl in the world. The East had -certainly been kind to her. - -"It was to be a surprise for you--you great boy, and for Uncle Philip. -I had no idea how it would turn out. In the town I got a horse. The -storm was threatening, but I thought I could get home. Just before I -reached Jasper's I overtook Ben on his pony. I'm telling you this, -Justin, because I know you will never mention it!" - -"I will never speak of it," he promised. - -"I knew you wouldn't. Now, you must never mention this, either--but -Ben had been drinking." - -Justin understood now the meaning of Ben's white face and glittering -eyes. - -"I never knew him to drink before," she went on, "and I shouldn't have -known it this evening but for the way he talked. Politics, and that -man Arkwright, caused it, I'm sure. He was raging, Justin--that is the -word, raging--against you and the farmers, and particularly against -Mr. Jasper and Mr. Sanders. He claimed they had tried to get you to -run against him for the legislature. He talked like a crazy man, and -made such wild threats that he frightened me." - -Justin wanted to express his mind somewhat emphatically. It seemed -best to say nothing; yet that picture of Ben Davison raging against -him and frightening Lucy gave him a suffocating sense of wrath. - -"The storm struck us just before we reached Mr. Jasper's house, and we -turned in there for shelter. Jasper wasn't at home, but the door -wasn't locked and we went in." - -"Jasper was in town," said Justin. - -"Ben put the horses in the stable," she went on, without noticing the -interruption. "When he had done that, and had come into the house out -of the rain, he began to rave again. After awhile he said he would go -out and see how the horses were doing and give them some hay; but I -saw him pick up an axe in the yard and start toward the dam. Though -the storm was so bad, I followed him, for he had been swearing -vengeance against the farmers, and from some things he had said I -guessed what he meant to do. When I reached him he was on the dam, -chopping at one of the key logs, and had cut it almost in two." - -She trembled, as that memory swept over her. - -"I rushed out upon the dam, when I saw what he was doing, and begged -him to stop. He tried to push me away, and I came near falling into -the water; but I clung to him, and then the axe slipped out of his -hands and fell into the stream. The logs began to crack; and that, -with the loss of the axe, made him willing to go back with me. We ran, -and had just reached the shore when the dam gave way. The ground was -slippery, and he fell as we ran toward the house through the storm; -and when he lay there like a log, and I couldn't get him up, my nerves -gave way, and I screamed. Then you heard me. That is all; except the -photograph." - -The calm she had maintained with difficulty forsook her as she -finished, her voice broke, and her tears fell like rain. - -Justin slipped his arm about her. - -"You were brave, Lucy!" was all he could find to say. - -He had never realized how brave she could be. - -"And, Justin, nothing must ever be said about it! It would ruin Ben; -it might even put him in prison. I needn't have told you; but I wanted -to, and I know you won't say anything about it." - -Justin did not stop to think whether this were right or wrong. He gave -the promise instantly. - -They began to talk of other things. She seemed not to want to say -anything more on the disagreeable subject; and Justin was glad to have -her talk of herself, of her school life, and her Eastern experiences. -Somehow the old sense of intimacy had in a measure departed. He -withdrew his hand from about her waist, that was still slender and -girlish. She had been removed to a great distance from him, it seemed. -Yet, outwardly, she had not changed, except for the better. She was -more womanly, more gracious, now that her tears had been shed and her -thoughts had turned into other channels, even than in the old days. -Nevertheless, Justin could not at once summon courage to say to her -the old sweet nothings in which both had delighted. - -"You are still my sweetheart?" he ventured timidly, by and by. "The -East hasn't changed you any in that respect, I hope?" - -She looked at him earnestly, and her eyes grew luminous. - -"No, Justin, not in the least; but there is one thing, which has come -to me while I was away. We aren't children any longer." - -"I am well aware of that fact," he said; "I have been painfully aware -of it, all evening." - -She knew what he meant. - -"We aren't children any longer; you are a man now, and I am a woman. I -heard a sermon the other Sunday, from those verses in which Paul said -he had put away childish things and no longer acted or thought as a -child. Long ago I told you that I loved you, and promised to marry you -some time; I haven't forgot that." - -"I shall never forget it!" - -"But now that we're no longer children, I think it is your duty to -speak to Uncle Philip." - -The thought of facing Philip Davison on such a mission flushed -Justin's face. Yet he did not hesitate. - -"I will do so," he promised; "I ought to have been courageous enough -to do it long ago, and without you telling me to." - -Instantly he felt taller, stronger, more manly. He knew he was -deliriously happy. To feel the soft pressure of her body against his, -the electric touch of her hand, and to hear her say that she loved -him, and would some time marry him, thrilled him. He looked down into -her face, with the love light strong in his eyes. He recalled how he -had loved her during her long absence. - -"You didn't see any one while you were gone that you thought you could -love better?" - -He believed he knew what the answer would be, but he awaited it -breathlessly. - -"I oughtn't to say so, Justin, until after you have spoken to Uncle -Philip; but I saw no one I could love half as much as you--no one." - -"Yet you saw many men?" - -She laughed lightly; it was like sunshine after rain. - -"Not so very many as you might think. Mrs. Lassell's Finishing School -for Young Ladies is a very exclusive and select place, you must -remember. She holds a very tight rein over the girls placed in her -charge." - -"Is it so bad as that? It's a good thing for me, I guess, that she is -so careful; you might get to see someone you could like better than -me." - -She laughed again, seeing the anxiety he strove to cover. - -"If you've been accumulating wrinkles and gray hairs on account of -that you've been very foolish." - -"Your last letter didn't seem quite as genial as some others!" - -"I didn't underscore the important words, or write them in red ink?" - -She became suddenly grave. The events of the evening haunted her like -a bad dream. - -He stooped low above her bended head. - -"I love you," he whispered; "and I'm going to ask you again if you -love me, just to hear you say it!" - -She looked up at him, tremulously. - -"Justin, I love you, and I love you! There, don't ask me again, until -after you have spoken to Uncle Philip." - -His blue eyes were shining into the depths of her brown ones; and with -a quick motion he stooped and kissed her. - -"No one was looking, and no one could see us in here," he said, as she -gave a start and her pale face flushed rosy red. - -"I will speak to Mr. Davison to-morrow," he promised, as if to make -amends. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -BEN DAVISON'S TRIUMPH - - -Justin made that call on Philip Davison in much trepidation, and -broached the subject with stammering hesitation and flushed face. -Davison was non-committal, until he had heard him through. Yet, -looking earnestly at this youth, he saw how prepossessing Justin was -in appearance, how clear-cut, frank and intelligent was his face, with -its expressive blue eyes, how shapely the head under its heavy, -dark-brown hair. Justin's costume was that of a cowboy, but it became -him. There was a not unkindly light in Davison's florid face and he -stroked his beard thoughtfully, as Justin made his plea. But his words -were not precisely what Justin hoped to hear. - -"I don't blame you for thinking well of Lucy," he said; "she is a rare -girl; and the man who takes her for his wife with my consent must show -some qualities that will make me think he is worthy of her. I've -thought well of you, Justin, and I think well of you now. That you're -a cowboy isn't anything that I would hold against you; a cowboy can -become a cattle king, if he's got the right kind of stuff in him. -Everything depends on that." - -"I intend to do something, to become something, make something of -myself," Justin urged, his face very hot and uncomfortable. "I haven't -had time to do much yet, and my opportunities haven't been very good. -I've succeeded in getting a pretty fair education." - -"But would you have done even that, if Clayton hadn't driven you on to -it? You've got brains, and he coaxed you to study, and of course you -learned. But in other things you're not doing nearly so well as Ben, -for instance. Ben will go into the state legislature this fall, and -he's not so very much older than you." - -The flush deepened on Justin's face. - -"I shall try to make the most of myself," he declared, somewhat -stiffly. That reference to Ben was not pleasing. - -"See that you do. Then you can come to me later. I shall speak to Lucy -about this. There isn't any hurry in the matter, for she has two more -years in that school." - -He dismissed the matter abruptly, with an inquiry about the line -fences and a mention of the destroyed dam. - -"I told those farmers their dam wouldn't hold," he declared, with -something akin to satisfaction in his tone. "I knew it couldn't, the -way they put it together. They wouldn't believe me, for they thought I -had some axe to grind in saying it; but now they see for themselves." - -Justin wondered what Philip Davison would say if he knew the truth. He -did not even comment on Davison's statement, but left the room as soon -as he could do so without brusqueness. - -Sloan Jasper, representing the opposition to Ben Davison, came to him -the next day, which was Thursday. - -"How about that, Justin?" he asked, anxious yet hopeful. - -Justin had been given time to think, and his answer was ready. - -"It wouldn't be possible for me to run against Ben--it wouldn't be -right." - -"He ain't fit fer the place, and you know it!" - -"I can't run against him, Mr. Jasper." - -Jasper was almost angry. - -"Well, we'll git somebody that will. You could split the cowboy vote." - -"Perhaps I could, but I can't make the race." - -"Maybe Davison thinks we're done fer, jist because that dam went out; -but he'll soon know better. We'll put in a new dam, and we'll have our -rights hyer in the valley; and we're goin' to beat Ben Davison fer the -legislature, if talk and votes and hard work can do it." - -Sloan Jasper and the farmers were very much in earnest. They found a -man who was willing to stand in opposition to Ben Davison, and the -campaign which followed was heated and bitter. With sealed lips Justin -continued his round of work on the ranch. A word from him, from Fogg, -or from Lucy Davison, would not only have wrecked Ben's political -prospects, but would have landed him in prison. That word was not -spoken. The opposition exerted its entire strength, but Ben Davison -was elected triumphantly. - -The day Ben drove away from the ranch on his way to Denver, to become -one of the legislators of the state, Philip Davison spoke again to -Justin. - -"There goes Ben, a member of the legislature! He's not so very much -older than you, Justin; yet see what he has accomplished, young as he -is." - -"Yes, I see!" said Justin, quietly. - - - - -BOOK TWO--THE BATTLE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -COWARDICE AND HEROISM - - -Though Justin Wingate was no longer connected with the Davison ranch -he was not the less concerned when he beheld the sudden flare of flame -near the head of the canon and the cloud of smoke which now concealed -it. A fire starting there in the tall grass and sedge might destroy -much of the Davison range, and would endanger the unharvested crops -and the homes of the valley farmers. Forest fires were ravaging the -mountains, and for days the air had been filled with a haze of smoke -through which the sun shone like a ball of copper. The drought of late -summer had made mountain and mesa a tinder box. Hence Justin turned -from the trail and rode rapidly toward the fire. - -There had been many changes in Paradise Valley; but except that it had -grown more bitter with the passage of time, there had been none in the -attitude of the farmers and cattlemen toward each other. William -Sanders was still vindictively hostile to the people of the ranch, and -they disliked him with equal intensity of feeling. As for Justin, he -had developed rather than changed. He was stronger mentally and -physically, better poised, more self-reliant and resourceful. He had -come to maturity. - -He was on his way to Borden's ranch, with some medicines for one of -Clayton's patients there. The distance was long, and he had a pair of -blankets and a slicker tied together in a roll behind his saddle. Lucy -Davison was in the town, making a call on an acquaintance, and he was -journeying by the valley trail, hoping to meet her, or see her, as he -passed that way. But thoughts of Lucy fled when he saw that fire. As -he rode toward it and passed through the strong gate into the fenced -land, he wondered uneasily if any plum gatherers were in the sand-plum -thickets by the canon. - -Justin had not proceeded far when he heard a pounding of hoofs, and -looking back he beheld Steve Harkness riding toward him at top speed. -He drew rein to let Harkness approach. - -"Seen Pearl and Helen anywhere?" Harkness bellowed at him. - -Helen was the child of Steve and Pearl Harkness, and was now nearly -two years old. - -"No," said Justin, thinking of the plum bushes. "Are they out this -way?" - -"I dunno where they air; but they said at the house Pearl come this -way with Helen. That was more'n an hour ago. They was on horseback, -she carryin' Helen in front of her; and she had a tin bucket. So she -must have been goin' after plums. That fire made me worried about -'em." - -He rode on toward the plum bushes, and Justin followed him, through -the smoke that now filled the air and obscured the sun. Harkness's -horse was the speedier, and he disappeared quickly. As he vanished, -Ben Davison dashed out of the smoke and rode across the mesa. In the -roar and crackle of the fire Justin heard Harkness shout at Ben, but -he could not distinguish the words. Justin called to Ben, repeating -what he believed had been Harkness's question, asking if he had seen -Pearl and Helen; but Ben did not hear him, or did not wish to answer. -He rode right on, as if frightened. And indeed that fire, which -pursued him even as he fled, was not a thing to be regarded lightly. -Yet Justin wondered at Ben's action, his wonder changing to -bewilderment when he saw that a woman's saddle was on the horse Ben -rode. - -A horrible suspicion was forced upon him. He knew that Ben had -deteriorated; had become little better than a loafer about the stores -of the little town, consorting with Clem Arkwright and kindred -spirits. Arkwright had also changed for the worse. He had lost his -position as justice-of-the-peace, and was now often seedy and much -given to drinking. He was said to be an inveterate gambler, gaining an -uncertain livelihood by the gambler's arts. Ben Davison was never -seedy. Whether he obtained his money from Davison or secured it in -other ways Justin did not know, but Ben was always well dressed and -had an air of prosperity. - -Ben was again the candidate of the ranch interests for the -legislature. Lemuel Fogg, also representing the ranch interests, had -secured for himself a nomination to the state senate; for which -purpose he had become temporarily a resident of the town of Cliveden, -some miles away, where he had established a branch of his Denver -store. - -Justin's desire for justice made him put aside the conclusion almost -inevitably forced upon him by that sight of Ben Davison riding wildly -away from the fire in a woman's saddle. - -Following Harkness toward the plum thickets, where the roar of the -fire was loudest, he heard a woman's scream. It was off at one side, -away from the fire. Justin pulled his horse about and galloped toward -the fire through the pall of smoke. In a few moments he beheld the -plump form of Pearl Harkness. Helen was not with her. Seeing Justin, -she ran toward him, screaming frantically. - -"Helen! Helen!" - -Justin stopped his horse. - -"What is it? Where is she?" - -"Oh, I don't know, I don't know! I've lost her! She was right here a -while ago. The fire started, and I left her to get the horse; but the -horse was gone, and when I tried to find her I couldn't, the smoke was -so thick. I must have got turned round." She started on again, wildly. -"Helen! Helen!" - -"Can you stay here just a minute? I'll find her, and I'll bring her to -you. Stay right here. The fire can't get here for at least ten -minutes. Stay right here." - -He feared to leave her, yet felt that he must if he hoped to save the -child. Pearl Harkness seemed not to hear him. Calling the name of her -child she ran on, in an agony of apprehension, choking and gasping. -Lifted high above her by his horse, Justin found breathing difficult. -His mind was in a puzzled whirl, when he heard the fog-horn bellow of -Harkness's heavy voice. Pearl heard it also, and ran toward Harkness -with hysterical cries. Justin rode after her. Harkness appeared out of -the smoke like a spectre, his horse at a dead run. When he saw Pearl -he drew rein and jumped to the ground. - -"Helen! Helen!" she screamed at him, stretching out her hands. - -Then, before either Harkness or Justin could reach her, she pitched -forward, overcome by excitement and the thick smoke. Harkness lifted -her in his strong arms, clinging to his bridle rein as he did so. The -bronchos were snorting and uneasy. - -"I've got to git her out of here," said Harkness, with tender -solicitude. "Where's Helen?" - -"She must be right here somewhere; over that way, your wife said. I'll -find her." - -Harkness glared at the smoke. - -"Yes, find her, and find her quick! That fire will be right on top of -this place in another minute." - -He swung Pearl toward the saddle. Justin assisted him to hoist the -heavy woman to the back of the horse, and held her there while he -mounted. Harkness took the limp form in his arms. - -"We ain't got any time to lose!" he gasped. "Find Helen! For God's -sake, save Helen! It will kill Pearl, and me too, if you don't. The -fire is right here. For God's sake, save her; I know you'll do it if -anybody can." - -Justin was in the saddle. - -"Save your wife!" he cried. "Save your wife! I'll find Helen! I'll -find her!" - -"You've got to find her! Don't stop till you find her! I reckon I'd -better help you look for her." - -He could not abandon Helen; and holding his wife in his arms he rode -toward the fire. - -"Save your wife!" Justin shouted to him. - -He was already moving off, forcing the broncho toward the point where -the smoke lay heaviest. Again he shouted to Harkness, begging him to -save his wife. Then a moving wall of smoke swept between them. - -"Helen! Helen!" Justin began to call, circling swiftly about the spot -where Pearl Harkness believed she had left her child. - -The heat and smoke were becoming unbearable. - -"I must find her!" was his thought, as he recalled Pearl's hysterical -screams and the anguished face of Steve Harkness. - -Then, as if in a fire-framed picture, he saw her, well up toward the -head of the canon, whither she had fled in a panic of fright. The -strong upward pull of the heated air, lifting the smoke for an -instant, revealed her, clad in her short dress of striped calico, her -yellow head bare. - -As the flames flared thus on high, their angry red blending and -tangling with the thick black smoke on the rim of the canon, Justin's -broncho became almost unmanageable. He struck it now, pounding his -fist against its body, kicking it mercilessly, and jerking like a -madman at the sharp bit. Fighting with the scared broncho, he drove it -toward the child. - -She heard him call to her; and seeing him, she began to run toward -him. She stumbled and fell, and rose crying. Her small face was -smeared with soot and tears, with charred plum leaves and with sand. -All about her, as the flames and the smoke lifted and fell under the -force of the wind, flakes of soot, plum leaves, and burning grass, -floated and flew. It was a wonder to Justin that her striped dress was -not already ablaze. In a few moments he was at her side. - -"I want my mamma!" she wailed, as he leaped down by her. "Where is my -mamma?" - -She pushed back the tangle of yellow hair that the wind tumbled into -her face, and coughed violently. Her chubby hands were stained with -tears and soot. She doubled one of them and gouged it into her eyes. - -"I want my mamma!" - -"I will take you to her," Justin promised, as he tore the blankets and -slicker from behind the saddle. - -One of the blankets he wrapped about her; the other he threw over his -shoulders and secured in place with a pin. The slicker he cast away, -fearing its coating of oil would make it inflammable. Having done -this, he clambered into the saddle, with the child in his arms. - -But the fire had been as busy. A long red prong thrown in the -direction of the ranch buildings had widened and was drawing back -toward the canon. It lapped across the open grassy space toward which -he rode before he could gallop a dozen rods, thus hemming them in. - -As Justin dashed furiously at this wall of flame, he drew the hood of -the blanket well over his head; and while still holding the child -closely wrapped, and clinging to the rein, he sought protection for -his hands in the folds of the blanket. There was no protection for the -horse. Yet he drove it to the plunge, which it took with blind and -maddened energy. - -The fire flashed about him and roared like a furnace. The flesh of his -hands and face cried out in pain and seemed to crisp under the lash of -that whip of flame. Giddy and reeling, he set his teeth hard and -gouged his booted heels furiously into the broncho's flanks. The -blanket seemed to be burning about his head. - -For a few brief moments after that he was but half conscious; then he -felt the broncho fall under him, and was pitched from the saddle. He -staggered to his feet, still holding the child. His blanket had been -torn aside by the fall; and he saw that he had broken through the -cordon of flame, and that the fire was behind him. The broncho lay -quivering where it had dropped, having run to the last gasp. He could -not have recognized it. Its hair was burnt off, and blood gushed from -its nostrils. - -Helen seemed to be uninjured, though she cried lustily. Still resolved -to save her from the fire, Justin began to stagger with her across the -unburned grass. As he did so he heard a shout, followed by galloping -hoofs. He saw the horsemen dimly as they rode toward him, and he ran -in their direction. As he thus ran on he fell. - -When he came to himself he was on a horse in front of some one who -clasped him firmly about the body. Horses' feet were rustling noisily -over the grass. The sky was black with smoke; its taste was in his -mouth, it cut his lungs and pinched his quivering nostrils. His face -and eyes; his hands, his whole body, throbbed with the smarting pain -of fire. - -"You're still all right, air ye?" - -It was the voice of Dicky Carroll, one of the cowboys. - -It was Dicky's arms that held him, and he was on Dicky's horse. He -drew himself up, looked about, and saw Steve Harkness galloping at -Dicky's side with Helen in his arms. - -"He's got to be made all right if he ain't," he heard Harkness shout. -"He's too gamy to be let die!" - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE HARVEST OF THE FIRE - - -The fire ravaged a large part of the mesa range. In the valley it did -small damage, for the farmers checked it there by flooding the canals -and laterals with the water they had stored for the fall irrigation. -Some of their hay land was swept over, and a few stacks of alfalfa -were destroyed, but no house was burned. One of the destroyed stacks -belonged to William Sanders. And it did not mitigate his hostility to -the people of the Davison ranch to know that the fire had been started -by Ben Davison. - -Ben was voluble with excuses and explanations. He stated that he had -gone to the plum bushes by the rim of the canon. There, tossing away a -smoked-out cigarette, it had fallen into some dry grass, which at once -leaped into flame. He had tried to stamp out the fire, and failed. -Startled by the rapidity with which it spread, and by the increasing -heat and smoke, he had fled. As he did so he came on a loose horse, -bearing a woman's saddle. No one was near it, or to be seen, and he -supposed very naturally that the rider had let the horse get away. At -any rate, it offered him a chance to escape from the fire, which he -believed to be ringing him in, and he accepted it. He did not hear -Harkness shout at him, he said, nor Justin. Riding toward the ranch -house, he had encountered the cowboys who were hastening to the fire, -and had turned back with them, thus meeting Steve Harkness, who was -holding his wife in front of him and had ridden out of the smoke. And -he had continued with the cowboys, and was with them when Justin -appeared with Helen. - -Dicky Carroll's version, poured into the ears of Justin Wingate as he -lay convalescing from the effects of his burns, held some peppery -additions: - -"Gee! wasn't Harkness wild; wasn't he hot? He was hotter than the fire -he had run from. He was simply crazy. He didn't say anything to Ben -when we first met him, fer there wasn't time right at that minute. But -he come on him at the ranch house. That was after you was carried in, -and while Doc Clayton was fingerin' you over to see if you was all -there. Ben was standin' by the door; and Harkness stepped up to him, -his face as white as a sheet, where it wasn't all smoked up; and he -says to him, jest like this: - -"'Damn you fer a sneakin' coward! You took my wife's horse, and left -her and Helen in that hell of fire to be roasted to death!' And then -he hit him square on the mouth and knocked him up ag'inst the side of -the house. - -"After that he never said a word to Ben, but as soon as the Old Man -come he told him what he'd done, and handed in his resignation as -ranch foreman. The Old Man was as hot as Harkness, the fellers say -that saw it; fer a minute he looked as swelled up and porkupiny as a -horned toad. Then he calmed down. 'I'll see Ben,' he says, jest like, -that. And he did see Ben; and of all the roastin's, that feller got -it; things couldn't have been much warmer fer him if he'd let the -horse go and stayed in the fire. And Harkness is still foreman. He's -too good a man, you see, fer Davison to lose. But there's one thing to -be said fer Ben, which I reckon he don't want to say fer hisself. He -was drinkin' that day, up by the canon. Nobody but a drunk man or a -fool would have throwed that burnin' cigarette butt into grass as dry -as that. Ben was too drunk to realize the danger, and I reckon he was -too drunk to know or care whose horse he took. But he was middlin' -sober, I tell you, when we met him. The scare did that. He was scared -good. And I will say fer him that he turned right round, though he'd -been ridin' like the devil was after him, and went back with us, and -afterward he done his part in puttin' out the fire." - -Lucy Davison must have heard this story from Pearl Harkness; and it -was possible, as Justin knew, that she had seen Harkness strike Ben. -Yet she said nothing to Justin on the subject, but left him to his own -conclusions. - -In one way, the aftermath of that unpleasant experience was not -unpleasant to Justin. Much of the time he had for a nurse no less a -person than Lucy Davison herself. Whether engaged in the actual work -of nursing him or otherwise, she made constant and solicitous -inquiries which strengthened and soothed him more than anything within -the range of Clayton's skill. Her presence would have more than -counter-balanced the suffering but for one thing. He knew that his -appearance was worse than grotesque. Even a comely youth loses all -comeliness, with his eyelashes and eyebrows gone, and his face -disfigured by burns and bandages. - -Somewhat reluctantly Justin was at length obliged to confess himself -so nearly well that he could go home with Clayton. Thanks to the -latter's skill he had escaped permanent disfigurement. Nevertheless, -his injuries confined him for some time to the house, and to short -walks and rides near it. - -Lucy made him many visits, and brought him the news and gossip of the -valley. She had "finished" at Mrs. Lassell's school, so was not to go -East again, and that was a pleasant thought to both. Philip Davison -was deep in his plans for Ben's advancement, and Fogg was working -earnestly to secure his own election. The thing that sorely troubled -both Davison and Fogg now, as it also troubled Ben, was the story -which was spreading, that Ben had cut the dam the night of the storm. - -"I hope no one will think I told that!" thought Justin. - -Yet the repositories of that secret, he was sure, were Lucy, Fogg and -himself. - -Justin inquired concerning the political action of the farmers. -Apparently, they had not desired to turn to him again; they had chosen -a candidate, and were working for Ben's defeat. - -When Fogg called at Clayton's, Justin, in a private conversation with -him, declared with heat that he had remained silent about the dam, -even though that silence had distressed his conscience. Fogg, tricky -himself, hence ready to impute trickery to others, might not have -believed Justin, if it had not come out soon that Ben had given the -story wings himself, as he boasted one night, while he sat gambling -and drinking with Clem Arkwright and some cronies in the town. Ben -denied this strenuously to his father. But after that, the suspicions -of Lemuel Fogg against Justin were blown to the wind. - -There was some wild talk among the farmers of prosecuting Ben, which -ended in talk, for there was a lack of first-hand proof. But to the -work of defeating him at the polls they had set themselves with might -and main. - -Then, as suddenly as the fire itself, a surprising change came in the -political situation. From the first, as now appeared, the campaign -against Ben had been engineered craftily by crafty men. At the last -moment, the name of the opposition candidate was taken down, and -another name hoisted in its stead--the name of Justin Wingate, used -without his knowledge. Cowboys made hurried night rides, moving with -secrecy. Ben's conduct at the time of the fire had laid up for him in -their hearts a store of smothered rage and contempt, which now found -expression. Everywhere the cowboys rallied to the support of Justin -Wingate--and he was elected. - -Because he was confined so closely to the house and its vicinity, but -more because the sudden movement to elect him was sedulously concealed -both from him and from Clayton, Justin's election came to him as a -stunning surprise. His astonishment was mingled with pain and anxiety. -The hopes of the Davisons were in the dust. He knew that Ben must be -humiliated beyond measure, and he feared that Davison would resent it -as a personal insult to his son and an act of treachery. And what -would Lucy think? That was, to Justin, the most important of all. - -Clayton brought him the news early on the morning after the election. -Justin, who had been walking about in the yard enjoying the bright -autumn sunshine, dropped to a seat on the doorsteps, startled, weak -and unnerved. Clayton began to make the thing clear to him. - -"After that affair, the cowboys couldn't stand Ben Davison, and the -story that he cut the dam killed him with a good many of the town -people, as well as the farmers. When your name was mentioned, the -suggestion caught as quickly as that fire Ben started. At Borden's -ranch, at Wilson's, at Lindborg's, and all over the county, where the -story of the fire had gone, the thing was taken up by the cowboys; and -it was all done so quickly and quietly that neither Davison nor Ben, -nor even Fogg, knew a thing of it, until it was too late. I'm as -surprised as you are; I knew of the talk against Ben, but I didn't -dream of this." - -Lemuel Fogg, shrewd and astute, hurried to Davison's, as soon as he -heard the astounding news. Davison was in a white rage. But for Fogg's -timely intervention he would have discharged all of his cowboys at -once, together with Steve Harkness. They were angry, and they stood -ready to go. - -"Don't do it!" Fogg begged. "We can't fight all of the cowboys of the -county, and they all went against Ben. The thing to do is to make -Justin see that the cowboys--and in that sense the ranch -interests--elected him. Though the cowboys united with the farmers -this time, they are not naturally with them; Justin knows that. We -mustn't let him go to Denver feeling that he owes his election to the -farmers. He is a cowboy, and if we work him right we can hold him to -our side." - -"I can't believe yet but that Justin knew all about it," said Davison, -angrily. - -"I don't think he did; but whether he did or didn't, he's elected." - -"He may not accept the place; he might give way, if pressure is -brought to bear on him?" - -"Don't you believe that for even a minute," said Fogg. "I know Justin. -He's not a fool, and he'd be a fool if he did that. He will go to -Denver and sit in that legislature, and we want him to go as our -friend, not our enemy. Don't stir up the cowboys, don't make trouble -with them; just give me a free hand--I think I can work this thing." - -Lemuel Fogg set about the work at once. He suggested to certain men -that it would be a good idea for the friends of the ranch interests to -meet publicly at Clayton's that evening and show Justin that they -regarded him as their friend, and not their enemy; and, having done -that, he walked over to Clayton's to see Justin himself, and -congratulate him. Some of the farmers, he learned, had already visited -Clayton's for that purpose; and he felt that for the ranchmen to -permit the "farming jays" to get ahead of them in that way was a -tactical mistake. - -So Fogg came into Clayton's little study, where he had been so many -times, and sat in the big chair which had so often nursed his rotund -body. His round freckled face oozed amiability, and his big laugh was -cheery and infectious, as he congratulated Justin. - -"You ought to have been nominated regularly in the first place, -instead of Ben," he asserted. "It was a mistake to put Ben up, after -that trouble about the fire. The cowboys wouldn't have him. They've -elected you, and they're roaring with joy. I suppose Ben has gone into -hiding, for I haven't seen him anywhere this morning." - -He laughed, as if this were a joke. - -"Ben's defeat and your election surprised me, of course," he admitted, -"but as soon as I had time to think it over I felt there wasn't -anything to be sorry about, for you'll make a good deal better -representative. You're better educated all round than Ben is, and -you've got the confidence of the people, which as this vote shows he -hasn't." - -Justin liked Fogg, in spite of the known defects of his character. He -had believed that Fogg would be instantly alienated; yet here he was, -as friendly and as jovial as ever, not disturbed in the least, -apparently, by the strange turn of events. - -"It's a thing that doesn't come every day to a young man that hasn't -gone gunning for it, and it's up to you to make the most of it," Fogg -continued. "This may be the stepping-stone that will lead you into the -governor's chair some day. You can't tell, you know. Make as many -friends as you can, and as few enemies as you can. Ben made enemies, -without making friends, and you see where he is. It's a good lesson to -any young man. I'm glad I'm to be in the legislature with you; in the -senate, of course; but I'll be right there, where I can see you every -day; and if I can help you in any way, by advice or otherwise, why, -I'm yours truly, to command to the limit." - -"The position is what I should have sought, if I could have had the -choosing," said Justin, "yet I feel troubled about it, coming to me as -it did." - -"You wouldn't think of refusing to accept it, now that it's yours?" - -"No, I shouldn't want to do that, and it wouldn't be right to the men -who voted for me." - -"I felt sure you wouldn't," Fogg admitted significantly, shifting -comfortably in his big chair. - -"I'm too bewildered to know what to say, or what to think; I only know -that it's a great surprise, and that I'm troubled as to how it will be -regarded by the Davisons." - -"Well, of course you must expect them to be a little sore over it, as -it comes so close home to them. But Davison is a pretty square sort of -man, as I've found, and he'll look at it in the right light, unless -you give him occasion to do otherwise. Ben will be bitter, I've no -doubt; but there's no help for that, and if I were you I shouldn't let -it trouble me. He'll get over it after awhile. If his head is level -he'll know that he went up against a cyclone for which you were not -responsible and he'll keep still." - -Fogg's attitude eased Clayton's anxiety. The turbulent conflict he -foresaw seemed about to be avoided. - -"I've spoken to some of my friends," Fogg went on, "and there will be -a crowd up here to-night. I reckon you'd better rub up a little -something in the way of a speech, Justin. And if you happen to hear a -brass band filling the air with march music, don't get scared and bolt -like a stampeding broncho, for that will be the new band they've -organized in town coming up to serenade you. You're a public character -now, and you've got to stand such things." - -Fogg left Clayton's with growing confidence. He believed that Justin -would be pliable, if properly manipulated. - -"If I can only jolly him along here I can manage him when we get to -Denver," was his thought. - -Though Justin was strong enough now to take short rides about the -valley, he did not visit the Davison ranch that day. Lucy was -temporarily absent from home, he was glad to know. So he shut himself -up at Clayton's and tried to take stock of the situation. His thoughts -were chaotic. The thing he would have chosen had come to him, but in a -manner so strange that he could hardly be sure it was desirable. As he -did not know what he ought to say to the people who would gather there -that evening, he did not try to put together the few thoughts in the -way of a speech which Fogg had suggested. - -For Paradise Valley that was a great gathering. At nightfall the new -band came down from the town, braying its loudest. Horsemen, and men -on foot and in carriages, seemed to spring out of the ground. They -overflowed the little house, for Clayton's hospitality urged them to -make themselves at home anywhere, and they filled the yard, yelling -lustily. Fogg set up some gasolene torches, and came out of the house, -accompanying Justin. - -The noise, the cries for him to appear, the music of the band, the -leaping call of aroused ambition, tingled Justin's blood. He felt his -soul swell, when he heard that roar. It was a feeling wholly new and -he could not define it, but it caused him to lift his head and step -with sure precision as he passed through the doorway with Fogg to the -little piazza in front of the house. - -Before him some farmers, in whose midst he saw Sloan Jasper, were -bellowing their delight. Farther out he saw Steve Harkness, by the -light of the torch which flared red in his face. At Harkness's side -was Dicky Carroll; and both were yelling with wide-open mouths, and -swinging their big hats, as they sat on their horses. Justin knew that -he trembled, but it was not because he distrusted himself, or feared -to face these people. - -As he came out upon the piazza, Fogg, the diplomat, took him -affectionately by both hands, his fat face beaming with simulated joy, -as he introduced to these people the newly-elected--their -newly-elected--representative. Fogg's remarks took the form of a wordy -panegyric, whose chief note was that, as Justin had been elected by -what seemed to be a spontaneous uprising of the whole people, he would -go to Denver as the representative of the whole people, and not of any -party or faction. - -Called on for a speech, Justin spoke but a few words. He was sensible, -he said, that a very high honor had been conferred on him, and -conferred most unexpectedly. For it he thanked his friends and all who -voted for him. He had not sought the place, and in the manner in which -it had come to him there were some painful things, on which it was not -necessary for him to dwell; but now that he was elected, he would try -to serve his constituency to the best of his ability and do what was -right. The position having come to him wholly unsought, he felt that -he stood pledged to nothing except honesty and the good of the state -and the county. - -Dicky Carroll's small clean-shaven face and beady eyes shone with -supreme satisfaction. Dicky was a firm admirer of Justin, and he was -delighted to be able to swing his hat and yell for a cowboy, one of -his own kind as he thought, who had been elected to the legislature -largely by cowboy votes. He was swinging his hat and yelling even -before Justin concluded; and the speech, brief as it was, had been -punctuated with cheers. - -Fogg thanked the people for their kindness, and with fat freckled hand -patted Justin on the shoulder much as he would have patted a fine -young horse he was grooming for the races. Clayton looked on with his -quiet smile, pleased to have Justin so praised and cheered, yet -anxious. - -Then the people and the brass band went away. Only Harkness and Dicky -Carroll stayed, for a few words with the "cowboy" whom they had helped -to elect. They did not intend that Fogg should have Justin all to -himself. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -LEES OF THE WINE - - -The next morning Justin rode over to the ranch house to see Lucy. He -desired to know how she felt about his sudden elevation, by which Ben -had been thrust down. Near the crossing, where the bare boughs of the -cottonwoods were tossing in the autumn wind, he encountered Philip -Davison. The ranchman drew rein. Justin had a sense of uneasiness, as -he lifted his hat respectfully to his former employer. - -"Justin," Davison spoke sharply, "we want to know how you stand. I -heard from that meeting last night, and from what you said there -nobody can tell. Fogg says you're all right, but I'd like to hear you -say so." - -Davison disliked circumlocution, being as direct in his methods as -Justin himself. He had yielded reluctantly to the restraining hand of -Fogg. Now, meeting Justin thus, he formulated his doubt and his -question. His florid face had taken on added color and his blue eyes -began to flash. Except for that sudden fire he looked tired, and older -than Justin had ever seen him. - -"Speak up, speak up!" he commanded testily, as Justin hesitated. "For -myself I want to know just what to expect. Are you with us, or against -us? You can't be both." - -Justin did not want to speak up, for he did not want to break with -Philip Davison. He still held for him much of the strong admiration he -had cherished in his youth. - -"Having been elected without my knowledge or wish, I shall go to -Denver untrammeled," he said, still hesitating. "How I shall vote will -depend upon the questions that come up for settlement." - -"That's a fool's answer," Davison declared. "Are you against the -range, or are you for it? Will you support the interests of the -cattlemen, or the interests of the farmers?" - -His words flushed his face still more and made his eyes very bright. -There were fleshy pads under those blue eyes, and the cheeks below the -pads looked flabby. Justin thought of Ben. In some respects the father -and the son were alike. Yet Ben was smaller, had a weak face, and -little of the towering bulk of his father, who was as tall as Justin -himself. And thoughts of Ben, humiliated by defeat, of Lucy, together -with the old regard, made him oblivious to the harsh words and harsher -tones. Yet evasion was not possible. - -"I don't think I ought to be called on to declare myself before I know -just what the issues are and in what shape they will be presented," he -urged. "But you know my sentiments, Mr. Davison. You know I quit the -ranch not because I did not wish to work for you, but simply because -I----" - -"Because you were a fool; because the work of branding a bawling calf -made you sick at the stomach; because you couldn't stand it to see a -starving cow wandering about in a blizzard with nothing to eat! You -think--" - -"Mr. Davison--" - -"You think the cattle business is cruel and brutal, and--" - -"I think cattle raising as it is conducted on the open range is cruel. -I can't help that." - -"And you think the farmers are the only people! You think the -cattlemen are--" - -"I sympathize with the farmers. Perhaps that is because they are poor -men and need sympathy." - -"You will vote with them!" Davison lifted his voice and shook his -finger in Justin's face, leaning forward in the saddle. "After all -I've done for you, Justin! There is a contemptible conspiracy on foot -in this state to ruin the cattle business, and it has your sympathy. I -have always been your friend, and Fogg is your friend; yet you'd vote -us into poverty to-morrow, just on account of Clayton's idiotic -notions. I'm done with you. You needn't ride on over to the house, for -I don't want you there. There is no one there who does want you. I -hope you understand that. A man who is a man doesn't go where he isn't -wanted. I wash my hands of you!" - -Having lost his temper, Philip Davison began to rave. - -"Yet you owe your election to ranch influences," he shouted. "You -gained your place through the defection of the cowboys from Ben. They -persisted in misunderstanding what he did at the time of the fire, and -they played the sneak, riding over the country by night and banding -themselves together to put him down. If you lent yourself to that, -it--" - -"I did not lend myself to it, Mr. Davison," Justin protested, -earnestly. "I did not know anything about it." - -"Yet you profit by it, you profit by it; and the receiver of stolen -goods is as bad as the thief." - -Fogg had beheld this collocution from the ranch house, and now he -galloped up, his fat body swaying heavily in his creaking saddle. -Though perturbed, his round fat face beamed like a kindly sunset. - -"How are you, Justin; how are you?" he cried. "Hope that racket at -Clayton's didn't rob you of your sleep last night. It was a successful -meeting, and I'm glad that it was, having had something to do with -getting it up." He mopped his hot forehead with his handkerchief. -"Davison, a word with you! The Deep River Company write that they want -to buy some of our cattle." - -Fogg's hand was again on the wheel. Justin was glad to ride on, for -Davison's savage assault had left him breathless. He was hurt, but -tried hard not to be angry. He was still determined to see Lucy, even -though Davison's words practically forbade him the house. Ben was -absent so much from the ranch now that Justin hardly expected to meet -him; yet he did meet him, in front of the ranch house door. Ben had -long since discarded cowboy clothing, and he had lost much of the -cowboy tan, his face being now white and unhealthy-looking, as if -bleached by late hours and artificial lights. It took on a surly look, -when he saw Justin. - -"I shouldn't think you'd care to come over here now," he said, curtly. -"If it's pleasant for you, it isn't pleasant for me." - -"I hope we can be friends," Justin urged. "I'm sure I want to be -yours." - -He had not recovered his equanimity, and his face was flushed. - -"Well, I don't want to be yours! You may deny it if you want to, but -you played me a mean, dirty trick. You probably had it in mind, when -you put up that melodramatic exhibition at the fire." - -Justin found great difficulty in keeping his temper. Hot words burned -on his trembling lips. - -"I won't talk with you, Ben," he declared, hoarsely. "Is Lucy in? I -should like to see her." - -"Find out if she's in," Ben snapped, and turned toward the corrals. - -Lucy met Justin at the door. Though she smiled in welcome, he could -see that she was troubled. - -"Don't mind what Ben says," she urged, as she took Justin's hat and -then led the way to the sitting room. - -"He was crusty," said Justin, "but I can't blame him." - -Having gained the sitting room she turned to Justin, admiration in her -troubled eyes. - -"Justin, I ought to be proud of you, and I am--I can't help being--but -this is, in a way, very unfortunate and distressing. Ben wasn't worthy -of that place, as I know only too well, and as you know; but he is so -very bitter over his defeat, and Uncle Philip is the same. Ben has -been in a stubborn rage ever since the election, and has said some -sharp things to me about it--as if I could help it, or had anything to -do with it!" - -"I'm sorry." He took a chair. "I suppose I've lost Mr. Davison's -good-will entirely. When I met him a few minutes ago he forbade me the -house. But I wanted to see you, and came on." - -"I suppose you will accept the position?" - -"Can I do otherwise?" - -"I shouldn't want you to refuse it. The people chose you, over Ben, -and even though it was unexpected, I suppose you ought to serve. Ben -is alone responsible for his defeat. Uncle Philip will not believe the -things which we know to be true, and he thinks Ben ought to have been -elected. Yet I do hope," she looked at Justin earnestly, "that you -will not feel that you must vote against the cattlemen in everything, -in the legislature?" - -"Why do you say that?" - -"Uncle Philip declares that you mean to." - -"It will depend, I fancy, upon the general action of the -legislature--upon the measures and bills that may be introduced, and -the candidates who are presented for senator. I don't expect to take -any active part against the ranchmen." - -"The farmers expect you to." - -"I'm opposed to the ranchmen on some points. You know how I feel; and -of course I shall have to be guided by what I think is right. I don't -see how I can do anything else." - -"Uncle Philip says certain bills will come up, aimed at the free -range; and he declares that if the free range is taken away or -curtailed he will have to go out of business. He can't fence against -everybody." - -"On the other hand, what about the farmers?" - -"There aren't so very many of them, and their holdings are small. They -might fence their land. The ranchmen were here first. You'll remember -that?" - -"I'm not likely to forget it." He settled back easily in his chair. -"That's been dinned in my ears a good deal, already." - -"It's a serious matter," she urged. "My sympathies are with the -ranchmen; because I'm a ranch girl, I suppose, and have always lived -on a ranch." - -"And it's because I've seen so much of ranching that my sympathies are -not with the ranchmen, aside from Mr. Davison himself. I should -dislike to do anything to injure him, or displease him. But the -ranching business, as it is now carried on, is, I fancy, the thing -around which the fight in Denver will rage, if there is any fight. You -know yourself, Lucy, that in a certain sense the ranchmen are -lawbreakers. The trouble is, Mr. Davison doesn't stand alone. It is -not any one ranchman, but the system." - -"That's why I'm disturbed by the situation." - -"A long time ago," he said, seeming to change the subject, "you asked -me to go to your uncle and put to him a certain momentous question. -His answer was virtually a command that I should do something and -become something. This opportunity has come, and it would be a -weakness not to make the most of it. I shall trust that I won't have -to do anything to turn your uncle against me completely; but," he -regarded her earnestly, "I hope in any event nothing can ever come -between you and me." - -He arose and stood beside her. - -"Justin," she said, looking up at him, "that does not need an answer; -but I'm going to ask you not to be stubborn when you go to Denver, -that is all. You do get unreasonably angry, sometimes, just like Uncle -Philip; and when you do, you become stubborn. You don't mind if I say -this? If the struggle we fear comes, will you promise me not to permit -yourself to get angry and stubborn about it? There will be many things -said, I've no doubt, that will try you. But just think of me here, a -ranch girl, and your best friends ranch people; the cowboys, who -regard you so highly, didn't vote for you because they were opposed to -the ranchmen, but simply because they didn't like Ben. You'll remember -these things, won't you?" - -He drew her to him. - -"Lucy," he said, as he put his arm about her and kissed her, "I shall -be thinking of you all the time. I was almost afraid to come over here -to-day, but I see I had nothing to fear." - -"And do you know why?" - -"Because you love me even as I love you." - -"Then you won't forget--you won't forget--that I am a ranch girl, and -that my interests, and yours too if you but knew it, are ranch -interests!" - -"I will not forget," he promised. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -IN THE WHIRLPOOL - - -The conflicting interests had so shaped themselves before Justin went -to Denver that he knew it would be impossible for him to vote on -certain questions with the representatives of the ranchmen. He reached -this decision, after many long talks with Doctor Clayton, in the quiet -of the doctor's study. Yet he maintained a silence, trying to himself, -which Clayton deemed discreet; and he went to Denver with many -misgivings. - -He had no sooner set foot in the hotel when Fogg's smiling face made -its appearance. - -"Good; you're here!" Fogg cried. "Now I'll see that you have a -first-class room. These hotel people will poke you off into any old -corner, if you don't watch them." - -He seized Justin's valise, but relinquished it to the colored boy who -came forward to take it, and walked with Justin to the clerk's desk, -where he made known with confidential words and gestures that his -friend, Justin Wingate, the representative from Flatrock, was to have -a good room, in a good location. And he went up with Justin to the -room, to make sure that he had not been swindled by the wicked hotel -men. - -"This will be all right," he declared, joyously. "My room is on the -same floor. You must come in and look at it." - -Justin went in, and they talked awhile. Fogg did not ask him any -questions, but seemed to assume that there could be no divergence of -opinion between them on any vital point; they were old friends, and -they understood each other! - -On the mantel was a copy of that photograph of Justin and Mary Jasper, -taken on the occasion of Fogg's first visit to Paradise Valley. Fogg -had put it there, to be seen, that it might further cement the ties -that he hoped would bind Justin to him. It would bring back memories -of pleasant days, he believed. It brought back, instead, memories of -Peter Wingate and Curtis Clayton. When that picture was taken, the -ranchmen had not invaded Paradise Valley. Sloan Jasper was tilling his -little fields by the river undisturbed by the Davison cattle. And -Jasper had been one of Wingate's staunchest friends and admirers! - -"You'll find things a bit new here, of course," said Fogg, as he -returned with Justin to the latter's room; "but I know Denver like a -book, and I'll be glad to help you in any way I can." - -Yet even Lemuel Fogg, observing that Justin did not say much, had an -uneasy sense of insecurity. - -"These quiet men do a lot of thinking," was his troubled conclusion, -"and they're likely to be hard to manage, when they get crooked -notions in their heads. I'll have to keep my eyes on him, and I'll get -some other fellows to help me. We've got to swing his vote; we've -simply got to do it!" - -To Justin's inexperienced eyes Denver was in a condition of political -chaos. He was not accustomed to crowds, and at first they annoyed and -bewildered him. Caucuses were apparently being held in every corner. -Ranching interests, mining interests, agricultural interests, each -seemed to have a host of champions. But the thing that excited every -one, whether cattlemen, farmer, or miner, was the coming election of a -United States senator. - -Early on the day after his arrival, he found himself drawn into a -caucus held in the interests of the cattlemen. Fogg piloted him into -it adroitly, wishing to commit him irrevocably to that side. Justin -sat down and looked about, not knowing what was to be done. Men came -to him with friendly words, and were introduced by Fogg. A chairman -was appointed, and the meeting began, with speeches. Their drift soon -filled Justin with uneasiness. Having listened awhile, he arose -nervously in his place. He did not wish to be misunderstood, or put in -a doubtful position. - -As he stood up, thoughts of Lucy Davison came to trouble him; and, -knowing that every eye was trained on him, he became somewhat -disconcerted. Fogg, watching him closely, saw his face flush to a deep -red. Yet even Fogg, consumed by anxious expectancy, did not fail to -note the commanding flash of the blue eyes and the stiffening of the -lithe, erect form of this young man from the remote ranges of -Paradise, as he began to speak. There was nothing rural or awkward in -his manner. His bare shapely head with its masses of dark hair, his -clear-cut profile, and his straight supple form clad in a neat -business suit of dark gray, spoke of anything but verdant -inexperience. - -Though he began in hesitation, having begun he did not falter, and he -did not palter; but expressed himself simply, as an honest man -expressing honest opinions without thought of subterfuge. He did not -go into details, and he did not explain, further than to declare that -he had not sought an election; but, having been elected unpledged, by -the combined votes of farmers, cowboys, and citizens of the town, in a -revolt against a candidate they did not like, he still stood -unpledged, and would vote as his conscience dictated in all things. He -was not to be considered, he said, as belonging to the party or -interests represented by this caucus, and if he had known that those -attending it were supposed to be pledged to do the will of the -majority he would not have been there. They must understand his -position. He would not deceive them. - -Justin did not expect to create a sensation when he delivered that -brief speech, but it was like hurling a bomb. Of all the men there -Fogg was apparently the most surprised and hurt. He came to Justin -immediately, as the caucus began to break into groups, and while -Justin was trying to get out of the room. Angry men were shouting -questions at Justin. Fogg resolved to maintain his conciliatory -attitude. - -"You're making a mistake," he said, in a low tone, hooking a finger in -Justin's buttonhole in a friendly manner. "You'll live to regret it. -You're a young man just entering political life. You're educated and -you've got ability; and a young man of education and ability can make -almost anything of himself, in a country like this. But not if he -starts out in this way. You've got to stand with somebody. Don't lose -your head now. We're the strongest party. Stand with us. We're going -to win this fight, and you can't afford to be on the losing side." - -"Fogg," said Justin, looking almost angrily at him, "I won't be -pulled and hauled about by you nor any other man. I'm not trying to -control you, and you can't control me. I came up here untrammeled. -When it comes to voting in the house of representatives I intend to -listen to the arguments for and against every measure, and then I -shall make up my mind and vote for whatever seems to me to be right." - -"You can't do that, Justin," Fogg urged. He was nervously solicitous. -"Legislatures are run by majorities, by parties. If every man stood -by himself nothing could be accomplished. Sometimes we must vote for -measures we don't like in order to help along measures we do like. In -a place like this men have to stand together. You can't afford to herd -by yourself, like an outcast buffalo. You'll want to come up here -again, or you will want an office of some kind. Now don't be quick, -don't be nervous and gunpowdery; think it over, think it over." - -He patted Justin on the shoulder. He was much shorter than Justin and -had to reach up, and it was a comical motion. - -Justin released himself from Fogg's grasp, and though men were still -shouting at him and trying to reach him, he moved on out of the room -without speaking to any one. - -To his surprise, the tenor of his speech in the caucus seemed to be -known everywhere almost immediately. Men came to him; some arguing -with him, others praising him. He went out into the street to escape -them. Returning, he was thinking of retreating to the privacy of his -room, when a newsboy rushed through the corridor yelling, "Extra! All -about the defection of the representative from Flatrock County!" - -Justin Wingate's "defection" was not an hour old, yet here it was -blazoned in print. He snatched one of the papers and made for his -room, where he read it in a state of exasperated bewilderment, for he -found himself denounced in unmeasured terms. This paper was the organ -of the cattlemen. "Scare heads" above the news columns of the first -page informed an astonished world of cattlemen that a Judas Iscariot -had arisen suddenly in their midst to betray them with an unholy kiss. -In a brief paragraph on the editorial page Justin was spoken of as -"The Cattlemen's Benedict Arnold." Elected chiefly by cowboy votes, he -was, the paper said, preparing to "sell them out." - -Justin threw down the paper. Newsboys were yelling in the street. He -left the room, thinking to get another paper. As he made his way -toward the hotel office a smiling little man tapped him on the -shoulder. He saw Fogg advancing with one of the offensive newspapers -in his hands, and scarcely noticing the little man he turned about, -seeking a way of escape, and found himself in another room. The little -man closed the door behind Justin; and the men before him, rising from -their chairs, began to cheer. - -This was a caucus of the opposition, and Justin discovered that he was -being hailed as an ally, and was expected to say something. He would -declare himself to them, he resolved suddenly, even though these men -might not like what he said, or the manner of its saying, any better -than those others. He would tell them that he did not belong to any -faction, and should vote only as his conscience led him. Then, if he -must stand alone, he would do so. - -He hardly knew what he said, yet it was well said. Clayton's training -had given him command of language, and his honest indignant feelings -and ingenuous nature gave him force and candor. As he spoke the caucus -broke into frantic cheering. Men stood in their chairs and yelled like -wild Indians, or maniacs. Here Justin was not an Iscariot or an -Arnold, but a "patriot" and a "savior." This caucus represented the -irrigationists, and Justin's declaration that he would vote only as -his conscience dictated assured them that he was not to be controlled -by the ranchmen, and that the reports they had received from Paradise -Valley concerning him were true. - -Escaping from these men Justin returned to his room, to which Fogg -came soon, though Justin was in no mood to receive him. Fogg closed -the door softly and dropped somewhat heavily into a chair. His fat -face looked worried. - -"You don't doubt that I'm your friend, Justin?" he said, cautiously. - -"I don't know that I've any right to doubt it; you've always been my -friend, heretofore." - -"And I'm your friend now--the best friend you've got in this city." - -"The only one, I suppose," said Justin, tipping his chair against the -wall and looking at Fogg keenly. "I'm a stranger here." - -"So I've come to talk this matter over with you. I don't need to go -into details--you know how you were elected, by a queer combination of -opposing interests. The cowboys who voted for you did it because they -like you and dislike Ben Davison, and not because they want you to -oppose the ranch interests in the legislature. If they considered the -matter at all, which is doubtful, they thought they could trust you -not to do anything here that would be to their injury. Likely you -think you owe your election to the farmers, but you don't; they -supported you, but it was the cowboy vote which elected you." - -"I have never questioned that fact," said Justin. - -"Perhaps not, but you seem to forget it. Now, there's another thing, -of even greater importance, it appears to me, which you ought to take -into consideration. The cattlemen are a power in this state. At -present they are allied with the party in control here, and the same -party is in control at Washington. You know what that means." - -"I should be a fool if I didn't." - -"Just so; and understanding the situation, is it the part of -wisdom--under all the circumstances now, Justin--is it the part of -wisdom for you to oppose that party? The opposition, which is just now -making such a noise, is a composite thing bound together with a rope -of sand. A half-dozen factions have thrown their influence to the -minority party and are making a desperate effort to get control of the -legislature. Suppose they succeed this time, where will they be next -year, or two or four years from now? They are antagonistic on every -question but this, and they will fall apart; nothing else can happen, -as you must see yourself. Don't you see that?" - -"Yes, I can see that all right." - -"Well, then, what is to be gained, in a personal way, by going over to -them? I'm not going to argue the thing with you, but just make these -statements to set you to thinking." - -Fogg knew when he had said enough, and he arose to go. - -"What did that paper mean, by attacking me in that way?" Justin asked. - -Fogg sat down again. - -"Newspaper men are as likely to make fools of themselves as other men. -They rushed that edition onto the street as a 'beat,' or 'scoop.' -They're sorry they did it already, if they've got as much brains as I -think they have." - -"Why should it be assumed in the first place that I intended to ally -myself with the cattlemen, and why should the simple statement which I -made in that caucus cause me to be branded as a Judas and Benedict -Arnold?" - -"It was simply an exhibition of what those fellows would call -journalistic enterprise, I suppose. They wanted to make a sensation, -and sell papers. They even sold a copy to you." Fogg laughed. "You -wouldn't have bought that copy, otherwise." - -"Well, I wasn't pleased by it. If anything would make me vote against -the cattlemen when I thought I ought to vote with them, such attacks -as that would." - -Fogg laughed again, and ran his fingers over the shining gold chain -that lay across his rotund stomach. - -"The fellow that stands in the limelight has got to take his medicine, -and it's no use kicking. The only way to do is to go straight ahead -and take no notice of what the papers say. That's what I try to do, -though I admit I get my mad up sometimes over some of the things they -print about me. That paper, which poured vitriol on you to-day, will -shower you with rosewater and honey to-morrow, if what you do pleases -it." - -"I shan't try to please it!" Justin declared, angrily. - -"No, I wouldn't; I'd try to please myself, and I'd try to look out for -Number One. Well, I must be going!" He rose again. "And just think -over what I've said to you in friendship. The range will be here, and -the cattlemen, when all these other little barking dogs are dead and -forgotten. My word for it, a desire for loot and plunder is really all -that holds them together now, though they're making such a howl about -public virtue and honesty. I've been in the political whirl before, -and I know those men right down to the ground." - -He extended his hand as he reached the door, and Justin, having risen -also, took it. - -"I'm your friend," said Fogg, as a final word, "and what I've said is -for your own good." - -When he was gone Justin sat down to think it over. He knew there was -much truth in Fogg's statements. The conglomerate opposition -struggling now to gain control of the legislature would fall to pieces -inevitably by and by. If he voted with the ranch interests he would -please the cowboys who had worked for his election, he would please -Fogg and Davison, and he would not displease Lucy Davison. But would -he please himself? Would he please Curtis Clayton? He could not hope -by so doing to please the farmers. - -Justin had ambition, though he was not consumed by it. He did not wish -to wreck his future. Philip Davison, in that memorable interview, had -told him to do something, be something, accomplish something. In the -interval between that time and now no opportunity had come to him. He -had left the ranch, where he could earn only cowboy's wages, though -not wholly because of the low wages. He had for a time secured -employment in the town, but the position had been neither promising -nor permanent. He had been thinking seriously of going to Denver, to -try his fortunes in its larger field, when the fire came which -incapacitated him, and after the fire this unexpected election. - -He was in Denver now, and he was a member of the legislature. Ambition -and a desire to show to Philip Davison that he was not unworthy of his -regard and friendship, not unworthy even to become the husband of Lucy -Davison, urged him to one course; Clayton's teachings and influence, -and his own inner feeling as to what was right and what was not right, -was urging him to the opposite course. Should he continue to offend -Philip Davison and at the same time wreck his political prospects? - -"But what can I do?" was his mental cry, as he struggled with this -problem. "I can't vote for things which I know are not right, nor for -men I know I can't trust." - -Early in the morning he encountered Fogg. The encounter was not by -chance, though Fogg pretended that it was. - -"I hope you thought over those things carefully?" he inquired, unable -to conceal his anxiety. - -"I have thought to this point," said Justin; "I will vote with the -cattlemen wherever my conscience will let me, but I can't vote for -your candidate for United States senator." - -Fogg stood aghast. - -"That puts you in the camp of the irrigationists, with all that -mongrel crew!" - -"I can't help it." - -Justin's tone was decided. His face was feverish. He had passed a bad -night. - -"I can't help it, if it does, Fogg. The things that man stands for are -not right, and I can't support him." - -Fogg detained him, and threshed the old arguments over; he even used -the potent argument that Justin ought not to follow deliberately a -course that must inevitably injure Philip Davison very much in a -financial sense; but, having with deep travail of soul reached that -one conclusion, Justin Wingate was now as immovable as a rock. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -HARKNESS AND THE SEER - - -Harkness and Clayton had come to Denver; Clayton to "hold up the -hands" of Justin, guessing what he would be called on to encounter, -and Harkness to see the "sights" in this time of political turmoil. -The cowboys were virtually in a state of revolt. It was not possible -that it could be otherwise. When Harkness, enraged and resentful, led -them in that rebellion against Ben Davison, ranch discipline was -destroyed and he lost control of them himself. Not that he now cared. -The impulse which led him to strike Ben to the earth by the ranch -house door had guided him since. He knew that the restraining hand of -Fogg, who had present interests to serve, alone checked the wrath of -Philip Davison. He, and all the other cowboys, must go, as soon as -this thing was settled. Nothing else was possible, when such a man as -Philip Davison was to be dealt with. - -Harkness met Justin on the street in front of the hotel and made -straight for him. It was not a bee-line, for Harkness was comfortably -intoxicated. He had the cowboy failing. Though he never touched liquor -while on the ranch and duty demanded sobriety, he could not resist the -temptation to drink with a friend or an acquaintance when he was in -the city. He greeted Justin with hilarious familiarity, and the scent -of the liquor mingling with the scent of cinnamon drops Justin found -almost overpowering. - -"Shake!" he cried, reeling as he took Justin's hand. "Justin, I'm yer -friend! Don't you never fergit it, I'm yer friend! And there ain't no -strings on you! Understand--there ain't--no--strings--on--you! We -fellers elected you 'cause we like you, and 'cause we couldn't vote -for Ben Davison. 'To hell with Ben Davison,' says I to the boys,--'to -hell with him; he took my wife's horse and left her and Helen to burn -to death in that fire! I'll see him damned 'fore--'fore I'll vote fer -him!' And so I would, Justin; an' we--we (hic) voted f'r--fer you, -see! We voted fer you. Davison's goin' to d'scharge me an' I know it, -but let him. I don't haf to be cowboy, I don't. Let him d'scharge -(hic) and damn to him! Let him d'scharge. But you go right ahead an' -do as you want to. You're honest, an' you're all right, an' we're -backin' you." - -When Fogg appeared--he had not yet abandoned hope of Justin--Harkness -swayed up to him pugnaciously. He had never liked Fogg, and he liked -him less now. Fogg's oiliness sickened the cowboy stomach. - -"Fogg," he blustered, "Justin's my friend, see! And there ain't no -strings on him. He's honest, an' we're backin' him. You want to hear -my sentiments? 'To hell with Ben Davison!' Them's my sentiments, an' I -ain't 'shamed of 'em. Davison's goin' to d'scharge me an' I know it. -Le'm d'scharge. Who keers f'r d'scharge? I don't haf to be cowboy, I -don't. But you treat Justin right. You've got to treat (hic) treat him -right, fer he's my friend, see!" - -Fogg protested that he had never contemplated treating Justin in any -other way, and that Justin was his good friend as well as Harkness's. - -Wandering about Denver that day, "staring like a locoed steer," as he -afterward expressed it, Harkness came to a stand in front of a doorway -and looked at a man who had emerged therefrom. The man was William -Sanders, but he passed on without observing Harkness. - -"What's he doin' up here?" Harkness queried, as he watched the -familiar figure disappear in the crowd. - -Sanders had gone, and to get an answer to his question Harkness stared -at the doorway, and the building, a somewhat imposing edifice of -brick, situated on one of the principal streets. It was given over to -offices of various kinds, he judged; but what fixed his eye was a sign -with a painted index-hand pointing to it. - -"Madame Manton, Seer, Fortune teller, Palmist, and Clairvoyant. -Fortune telling and astrology. The past and the future revealed. Lost -articles found, dreams interpreted, lovers re-united." - -There was a statement below this, in much smaller letters, setting -forth that Madame Manton, who was a seventh daughter of a seventh -daughter and from birth gifted with miraculous second-sight, had just -returned to America after a prolonged stay in European capitals, -during which she had achieved marvellous successes and had been -consulted on important matters by the crowned heads. - -Harkness did not know whether to connect the egress of William Sanders -from that doorway with this fortune teller or not, but the vagaries of -his intellectual condition impelled him to enter. Following the -direction of the pointing hand, he was soon climbing a stairway which -led to the door of this professed mistress of the black arts. Here -another sign, with even more emphatic statements, greeted him. On this -door Harkness hammered lustily. - -"Come in!" said a voice. - -Harkness tried the knob with fumbling fingers, then set his massive -shoulders to the panel, and was fairly precipitated into the room -where a rosy half-light glowed from a red lamp, and the sunlight, -showing through heavy red curtains, conjured queer shadows in the -corners. At the farther end of the room sat a woman. She was robed in -red, and her chair was red. A reddish veil hid her face. But the hand -she extended was small and white, and flashed the fire of diamonds. - -Harkness was so taken aback that he was almost on the point of bolting -from the room. But that would have savored of a lack of courage, and -his drink-buoyed mind resented the imputation. He would not run, even -from a red fortune teller. Seeing a chair by the door he dropped into -it, stared at the woman, and not knowing what else to do took out his -red handkerchief to mop his red face. The odor of cinnamon drops -floating out from it combined with that of the whiskey and filled the -room. - -"If you will be kind enough to close the door!" said the woman. - -She was looking at him intently. He closed the door, and dropped back -into the chair. He crossed his legs nervously, then uncrossed them, -wiped his face again with the scented handkerchief, and finally stuck -his big hands into his big pockets to get rid of them. He was dressed -in half cowboy garb, and it began to dawn on him that he was "cutting -a pretty figure," sitting there with that fortune teller. - -"I suppose you'd like to have your fortune told?" she questioned. - -"I dunno 'bout that!" he protested, his big hands burrowing deep into -his pockets. "I seen a feller come from this way, and I kinder p'inted -my toes in the same direction. Mebbe you was tellin' his fortune?" - -"No one has been here for more than an hour." - -"Then I reckon I was mistook. Do you make up these here fortunes out -of your own head, or how?" - -"I tell whatever is to be told." - -"Fer coin?" - -"Yes, for coin. Even a fortune teller must live. Put five dollars on -that tray beside you and I will begin." - -"If you can tag me, I'll make it ten!" - -Harkness put a crisp five dollar bill on the tray. If she had said ten -he would have placed that there. Liquor made him generous. - -"You do not believe in fortunes?" - -"Not any, lady. I stumbled into this game, and I'm simply playin' it -fer the fun of it, same's I used to go into a game of cards with Ben -Davison, when I knowed good and well he'd skin me. I'm goin' up -ag'inst your game, lady, and payin' before the game begins. It's cut -out fer me to lose, but I'll double the bet and lose it willin' if you -can put your finger on me an' tell me whatever about myself. I don't -reckon you can do it." - -A low laugh of amusement came from behind the veil. - -"You might as well put down the other five dollars now, to save you -the trouble of doing it later." - -Then she leaned forward and stared at him so intently that he felt -almost nervous. There was something uncanny in that rigid stare, and -in the strained tones of her voice, when she spoke after prolonged -silence. He fancied he could see her glowing eyes through the mesh of -the veil. - -"Your last name begins with an H. Let me see! It is something like -Hearing. No, it can't be that! It's Hark--Hark--Harkening. No, that -can't be. I can't get it; but I didn't promise to tell names. There -are a great many cattle where you live. Yes, and you are married. -That's strange, for not many cowboys are married. You have a little -girl." - -She put her hand to her head, and was silent a moment. - -"That's very queer. The name of your little girl, her first name, -begins with an H." She uttered a little inarticulate cry. "And, oh, -dear, she seems to be surrounded by fire; flames are on all sides of -her, and smoke! And she is frightened." - -Harkness started from his chair. - -"She ain't in any fire now?" - -The woman dropped back with a sigh. - -"No, not now," she admitted; "that is past. I am telling you things -you know about, so that you will see that I have the power I claim. -Some one, some one on horseback, is saving her from that fire." - -"And a certain cuss is skedaddlin' without liftin' a finger to help -her!" said Harkness grimly. "Put that in the picture, fer I ain't -fergittin' it." - -The disclosures which followed astonished the intoxicated cowboy. He -could not have revealed them more clearly himself. The fortune teller -took excursions into the future too, in a way to please him; and, as -she could tell the past so well, he was glad to believe in her -glittering portrayals of delights to come. - -Altogether Harkness was bewildered to the point of stupefaction. He -was sure he had never seen this woman nor she him, and her knowledge -produced in him a half-frightened sensation. Though he always -resolutely denied it to himself and to others, he was deeply -superstitious. If he began to sing as soon as he rose in the morning, -he tried to dissipate the bad luck that foretold by singing the words -backward. If he chanced to observe the new moon for the first time -over his left shoulder, he turned round in his tracks three times and -looked at it over his right. If he saw a pin on the floor with its -point toward him he picked it up, for that was a sign of good luck. -And he had such a collection of cast-off horseshoes he could have -started a shoeing shop on short notice. - -Harkness was so well satisfied with the fortune teller that when she -concluded he dropped the second five dollar bill on the tray. - -"You're as welcome to it, lady, as if it was water," he declared. -"Five dollars won't count even a little bit when I come into the -fortune you p'inted out to me. You're a silver-plated seer from the -front counties. You'll find Dicky Carroll jumpin' into this red -boodoir the first time he hits Denver. I'll tell him about you, and -it'll set him wild." - -Then he plunged down the stairway, fully convinced that he had -received the full worth of his money, not at all knowing that he had -imparted much more information than he had received. - -When he was gone the woman leaned back in her red chair and laughed -until the tears came into her eyes. She laid aside the reddish veil, -thus revealing the features of Sibyl Dudley, and wiped away the tears -with a filmy handkerchief. - -Then she began to make an estimate of the value of the information she -had received from this intoxicated cowboy, and from William Sanders. -It was considerable. She had formed many of her statements so craftily -that they were questions, and she had made these men talk about -themselves and their affairs in really garrulous fashion. - -When a little time had elapsed she ventured into the street, in an -entirely different garb and veiled more heavily. Walking across the -street she hailed a cab, and was driven home, halting however at a -corner to purchase copies of the latest Denver papers. At home she -began to absorb their contents. - -Sibyl Dudley's finances were at a low ebb. Mr. Plimpton, the stock -broker, had met a reverse of fortune, and criminal proceedings being -hinted by men he had fleeced, he had gone into exile. Where he was -Sibyl did not know, and if she had known he could not have helped her, -for he had now no money. With debts thickening about her, and no new -admirer with a plethoric bank account yet appearing, she was being -driven to desperate extremities. To tide over this day of evil fortune -she had, carefully veiled that no one might know her, become Madame -Manton. - -All these years she had kept Mary Jasper with her. Her attitude toward -Mary may be thought singular. Yet to Sibyl it was entirely natural. -She had plucked and worn this fair flower at first that it might add -to her attractiveness, as she would have plucked a wild rose to tuck -in her corsage on some gay evening when she desired to accentuate her -physical attractions in the eyes of men. But the utter simplicity and -guilelessness which Mary had worn through all as a protecting armor -had touched some hidden spring in this woman's heart, so that she came -at last to cherish a brave desire to stand well in the opinion of this -pure girl and maintain firmly her position on that pinnacle of -supposed goodness and kindness where Mary had established her. Hence -her charities were continued by and by, not to create that inner -warmth of which she had spoken, but that Mary might believe her to be -charitable. And if any good angel could have done so great a thing as -to pull her from that miry clay in which her feet were set Mary Jasper -would, all unconsciously, have accomplished even that. Sibyl Dudley, -driven back upon herself, had to have some one who could love and -respect her; for in spite of all she was a woman, and love was -starving in her heart. - -But she was not courageous enough to be honest; and, having read -through the papers, she sat thinking and planning how she might win -money enough to continue her present fight against adverse -circumstances. She could not confess to Mary that she was not rich, -that she was a pretender, and vile and degraded. No, she could not do -that. But to keep up her pretensions she must have money. Fortune -telling was an odious and precarious calling. She was sinking deeper -into debt. She must have money. - -Putting away the papers and going to her mirror she scanned her -appearance. In spite of her strenuous fight, Time had the slow-moving -years with him, and they bit into heart and face like acid. She -brought forth her rouge and her pencils. They had long worked wonders -and her slender fingers had not lost their cunning. She was an artist -in paint though she never touched brush to canvas. - -When Mary came in Sibyl was singing in a light-hearted way and -thrusting bits of cake to her canary between the bars of its gilded -cage. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE MOTH AND THE FLAME - - -Clayton was standing idly in front of his hotel. Sibyl Dudley and Mary -Jasper were driving by in the cool bright sunshine of the late -afternoon. Sibyl glanced keenly at the well-known figure. Clayton had -lost much in trimness and neatness of appearance by his long sojourn -in Paradise Valley. His clothing was ill-fitting, and his almost -useless left arm appeared to swing more stiffly than ever, as the -crowd jostled him. The contrast between the stylishly-dressed woman in -the carriage and this man who had once been her husband was marked. -Yet the handsome face of the man was still there, almost unseamed, and -it revealed kindness and cultured intelligence, as of old. - -"It is Doctor Clayton!" she said. "He looks so lonely and is such a -stranger here that it will be a kindness if we speak to him. I knew -him very well once, you know." - -The horses had trotted on, unnoticed by Clayton. Sibyl spoke now to -the driver, and the carriage was turned and driven back to the hotel. -The old desire to prove her power over this man possessed her. And she -might be able to use him! - -"Speak to him," she said to Mary. "It will please him, I'm sure, to -meet some one he knows. And it's so long since I met him that he may -have forgotten me entirely." - -The carriage with the well-groomed horses in their shining harness had -drawn up at the curb. Even yet the abstracted doctor had not observed -the occupants of the carriage. But now, when Mary addressed him, he -looked up, almost startled to hear his name spoken there. He -recognized Mary, and his face flushed a deep red when he recognized -also the woman who sat smiling beside her. - -"It is Doctor Clayton, is it not?" said Sibyl, speaking to him and -using her utmost witchery. "It seems so strange to see you away from -Paradise Valley. But it is a pleasure." - -He came up to the carriage, hesitating for words. He did not trust -this woman, yet he could not forget what she had once been to him. And -he had always liked Mary, as he liked her crabbed old father. He had -justified himself for not speaking to Sloan Jasper, with the thought -that he really knew nothing concerning the life that Sibyl was living. -When a man cannot justify his actions he loses self-respect, and -Clayton had never lost his self-respect. He had known nothing of -Sibyl's private life from the moment of his plunge into the -world-forgotten valley of Paradise. He knew nothing now. As he looked -into her eyes, the trepidation and confusion which had produced that -hot flush was mingled with pity and a yearning touch of the old love. -She had faded, she was garish, yet she was Sibyl, and to him still -beautiful; Sibyl, whom he had loved and married, and from whom he had -fled. - -"You are looking well," he said to Mary, though she was not looking -well, for trouble with Ben had set shadows in her dark eyes. "And you, -too Mrs.----" - -He hesitated. - -"Dudley," Sibyl supplemented. "We haven't met for so long that you -have actually forgotten my name!" She smiled amiably. "Won't you take a -seat with us for a little spin about the streets? This crowd bores -you, I know." - -He still hesitated, hunting for words. He had never felt so awkward, -nor had his clothing ever seemed to set so badly or look so mean. He -began to realize that in Paradise Valley he had lost something. Where -was the neatly-dressed college student, filled with learning and a -desire to please? Apparently only the learning and the desire to -please remained. And that desire to please, which often took the form -of an inability to displease any one, made it impossible for him to -refuse this invitation. - -Clayton, entering the carriage, found himself by Sibyl's dexterous -manipulation placed in the seat at her side, with Mary in the seat in -front of them. He looked at Mary as the carriage started, and he -wondered, and his heart smote him. Then he looked at the woman who sat -with him. - -"She is very happy with me," said Sibyl, as the horses beat their -noisy tattoo through the street, deadening the sound of her voice. -"And there isn't a better girl in the world!" There was a peculiar -emphasis on the words. "If you thought differently, you have been much -mistaken. She has been as safe with me as that boy Justin has been -with you; and I love her as much as you can possibly love him. She is -a dear, true, simple-hearted girl, and she thinks everything of me. -And I am much better than you have ever thought. So don't get silly -ideas into your head, simply because you see this carriage and I wear -a few diamonds. The carriage may be hired and the diamonds paste. It -was one of your dogmas, you know, that people should always hold -charitable opinions." - -"And I do. I have always thought kindly of you and had charitable -opinions of you. One never knows what he would do if put in the -position of another. I was hurt, crushed; but I never could have it in -my heart to blame you for anything. Sometimes I felt bitter, but even -the bitterness has long since worn away." - -Mary turned in her seat and began to speak to them, and the -conversation was not taken up until Clayton and Sibyl were alone -together in her home, to which they were driven after they had -traversed a few streets. Sibyl was anxious to get Clayton to herself, -and she therefore cut the drive short, complaining of the chill of -approaching night. - -Mary, fluttering about the rooms, came into the parlor and went out -again at intervals. Sibyl had kindly relieved her of the task of -entertaining Clayton. Remembering the story of his broken arm, Mary -felt a deep sympathy for him, yet she had never been able to converse -with him at length. He was so learned and wise, and at times so -strange and silent, that he oppressed her. She revered him, but she -could not talk with him. Besides, she had a letter to write to Ben, -who was coming to Denver in a day or two, and she wanted to think -about Ben and what she should say to him in that letter. The -composition of a letter even to Ben was not always an easy thing; and -though she still wrote to her father each Sunday, what she said to him -was so brief, sometimes, that for all the space required to contain it -she might have sprawled it on a postal card. - -While Mary thought of Ben and studied for words and sentences before -secluding herself to begin the actual work of writing, she gave -thought also to Clayton and Sibyl, and was quite sure that Sibyl was -kind and charitable in thus seeking to give pleasure to the lonely -doctor who had been apparently at a loss in the Denver streets. And -then, it came like a flash--what if Clayton should fall in love with -Sibyl, and they should marry? It seemed to her that much stranger -things had happened. And in contemplating this new and bright -suggestion she built up a very pretty little romance, which had a -marked resemblance to some of those which Pearl used to read. Romantic -ideas fluttered in Mary's pretty head as thickly as butterflies amid -Japanese cherry blossoms. - -When she began the composition of her letter, dipping her gold pen in -the blue ink which Ben liked, Sibyl was at the piano and singing in a -way to disturb the flow of her thoughts. - -"But she has a beautiful voice!" thought Mary, laying down the pen and -listening with admiration. "Wouldn't it be strange if they should take -a fancy to each other and marry?" - -It appeared entirely possible, now that Mr. Plimpton had departed from -Denver. - -Sibyl was singing one of the old songs that touched the deep springs -of the past, and Clayton with inexpressible yearning was wishing that -the years between could drop away and he could be her willing slave -again. The love that had been dead, though it came forth now bound -about with grave-clothes, lived again, and spoke to his heart a -familiar language. - -"You remember the song?" she said, looking up into his face and -smiling. He had come forward to the piano. - -"Yes," he confessed. "I shall never forget it. You sang it the evening -you told me you loved me and would be my wife. I wish you had chosen -another." - -"Why?" - -She looked steadily into his eyes, half veiling her own with their -dark lashes. - -"There is no need to ask," he said, and retreated to his chair. "The -change since then is too great. I am not the same, and you are not the -same." He glanced at his stiff arm and his ill-fitting clothing. -"Nothing can ever be the same again." - -She was studying how she might win him, if only temporarily. Certain -plans were no longer fluid, and she believed she could use him. - -"That doesn't sound like you, Curtis." - -"Sibyl," he threw out his stiff arm with a protesting gesture, "I hope -you are not trying to play with me, as a cat with a mouse. You know -how I have always felt toward you. You know that even after you sold -yourself to that man Plimpton, I----" - -She commanded silence by putting her fingers to her lips; and -tip-toeing to the door she closed it, that Mary might not by any -chance hear his unguarded words. - -"Even after that I would have taken you back gladly, and could have -forgiven you and loved you, for I was always a fool about you. You -will pardon me for speaking so plainly? I don't want to hurt your -feelings. I went away, as you know, and have tried to find peace by -burying myself from the world. And I have found peace, of a certain -kind. But I am not the same as I was. I hope I am not as weak as I -was." - -Yet he knew he had at that moment no more stability than water. If he -could have believed any protestation she might make, he would have -done so joyfully, and would have gone far to purchase such a belief. - -"I have been a great fool in many ways," she admitted. "But I hope not -a bigger fool than the man who pitches himself headlong out of the -living world into a desert simply because he and his wife have agreed -to a separation. But as you say, all that is past, and there is no -need to talk about it. Now I want to forget it and be your friend, if -I can't be anything else." - -"What else would you be?" - -He spoke in a hoarse voice. - -"At present, just your friend. You need a friend, and I need one. We -have been enemies a good while. Let us forget that, and be friends -again." - -"Mere friendship with you would never satisfy me, Sibyl. You know that -as well as I do. Unless I could be your husband, and hold you -heart-true to me as my wife, I could never be anything to you." - -Though shaken by his emotions he spoke with unusual determination. -Thoughts of Plimpton aroused whatever militant manhood there was in -him. For the instant he felt that he ought to have killed Plimpton, -and that his flight had been the flight of a coward. Sibyl saw that -she was approaching him from the wrong side. - -"Yet mere friendship, as you call it, is a good thing. The friendship -between Mary and myself, for instance, and that between you and -Justin--you will not say they are worthless. You even came up to -Denver, I think, to see Justin, because you could not bear to be -separated long from him." - -He looked at her earnestly, with a mental question. - -"Don't put your hands on him!" - -"Don't be a fool!" she said. "Why should I? But I won't beg for the -favor of your friendship. I thought we might be friends, good friends. -You could establish yourself here in the city, and we could see each -other occasionally, if nothing else. I am a better woman than I used -to be, a very much better woman than you will believe me to be. Mary -has done that for me. And I suppose you thought I would ruin her? That -shows that you never understood me." - -"I couldn't stay here in Denver!" he protested. - -"We might be even more than friends, some time," she urged sweetly. - -"Sibyl," he seemed about to rise from his chair, but sank back, "if I -could believe you!" - -Her words, which he knew to be lies, were still sweet. His heart was -filled with unutterable longing, not for "the touch of a vanished -hand," but for a vanished past. - -"I will be your friend," he said earnestly, after a moment. "I have -never been anything else, except when I was your devoted lover and -foolish husband. I should like to be both again, if I could." - -"Even that might be. There is such a thing as forgetting, you know." - -"Not for me." - -"Then a forgiving." - -"Yes. Until to-night I thought I had forgiven, and I was trying to -forget. I shall be glad to be your friend, Sibyl. As to establishing -myself in Denver, to be near you, I will think about it. If--if there -were no such thing as memory, we might still be very happy." - -His under-current of common sense told him that he had again entered a -fool's paradise. - -"We can be happy, Curtis. You shall not leave Denver. I need more than -your friendship. I need your love. I tossed it away, but I didn't know -what I was doing. I need your love, and I know you will not refuse it. -You never refused me anything; whatever I asked, you gave me." - -He had already given her his life! - -In his room at the hotel that night Clayton packed and unpacked his -valise, in a state of delirious uncertainty. In the mirror he beheld -his face, ghastly as that of a dead man. But, slowly, his philosophy -came to his aid, - -"Lies, and I know it! And I am a coward! The thing for me to do is to -get back into the wilderness." - -The next morning he was gone. The letter which came shortly urged -Justin, in a shaky hand, to stand for principle, no matter what -happened, and explained that the writer felt that he must hurry home. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE COMPACT - - -Lemuel Fogg was very much astonished when he received a call from -Sibyl Dudley, who invaded the privacy of his room without taking the -trouble to announce her coming. Fogg did not know much about Mrs. -Dudley, except that she was a friend and patron of Sloan Jasper's -pretty daughter, and lived in Denver. He had once remarked to an -acquaintance, as she passed, that she was "a stunning woman." And he -was not ready to withdraw that opinion now, when he saw her before -him. Having sallied forth to conquer, she had not neglected anything -that would add to her attractiveness in masculine eyes. - -It did not take Sibyl long to acquaint Fogg with the nature of her -errand. She was tactfully frank, for she knew how to reach such a man. - -"Mr. Fogg, I'm horribly in debt," she announced, looking him in the -face without the quiver of an eyelash. "I must have money, five -thousand dollars, to be paid to me if I prevent Justin Wingate from -giving his vote to the man the irrigationists want for United States -senator." - -He stared at her. How handsome she was! And what nerve she displayed! -Not one woman in a thousand would have made such a confession, or come -at him in that manner. Her idea appealed to him, if there was anything -in it. - -"Why, what can you do?" he asked. He smoothed his limp mustache, and -wondered if his collar set just right; he knew he had forgotten to -turn his reversible cuffs that morning! "What can you do, Mrs. Dudley? -Everything has been done that can be done already. I've begged him, -argued with him, prayed with him; and every man on our side who is -supposed to have the least influence with him has done the same thing. -We have even threatened him. Promises, threats, bribes, nothing will -move him." - -Sibyl smiled at him across the little table. She had beautiful teeth. - -"It can be done," she said, with sweet conviction. - -So singular and confident was her expression that he was almost -tempted to look into her ungloved right hand to see if she clasped a -poniard. He saw only the flash of her rings. - -"Why, what would you do;" he cried, in sudden amazement; "knife him?" - -She gave him a glance of scorn, which melted at once into a -captivating smile. - -"How absurd you are! Who ever dreamed of such a thing? This isn't the -Back of Beyond." - -"What would you do?" - -"Is it worth five thousand dollars to you if Justin Wingate does not -vote against the cattlemen's candidate for senator?" - -He regarded her thoughtfully, and jingled the watch chain that lay -across his round stomach. - -"Yes," he admitted, "it's worth every cent of it." - -"Will you agree to pay me that sum if I do keep him from casting that -vote? I am in debt and must have money; five thousand dollars is -little enough; but if you will satisfy me that you will give me that -much money I will prevent that vote." - -"Tell me how you're going to do it." - -"If I told you I should render my services valueless. You will have to -trust everything to me." - -"You want me to sign a note, or promise; I couldn't do that. It -wouldn't be good politics." - -"Then you will have to pay me something in advance. I must be secured -in some manner." - -Lemuel Fogg had never yet bought a pig in a poke, and he did not -intend to begin that doubtful practice now. He questioned Sibyl -Dudley's ability to do what she said. She was a very charming woman; -he admired her very much; but beautiful women had never the power to -make Lemuel Fogg cut his purse-strings. So he refused, very tactfully -and graciously, as becomes a man who has to refuse anything to a -pretty woman. She saw that it was a refusal, and final. - -"What will you do, then?" she asked. "If Justin casts that vote you -lose your senator. I can keep him from casting it." - -"If you will be quite frank with me, we'll get on faster, Mrs. -Dudley," Fogg urged. "You could perhaps tell me something of your -plans; I don't ask to know too much. But five thousand dollars is a -big sum of money." - -"It's a small sum, Mr. Fogg, for what I propose to do. You don't -believe I can prevent Justin from voting against your man. I can see -you don't." - -"Well, I'll say this much--nobody else could! Everything has been -tried that could be thought of. The fellow is a fool, and it's -impossible to reason with a fool." - -"Justin is anything but a fool, but he has an uncomfortable lot of -queer notions. I think he must have obtained them from that doctor he -has been living with down in Paradise Valley. I chance to know -something of the character of Doctor Clayton; and while he is, I -suppose, one of the best men in the world, so far as pure goodness -goes, he is as foolish and illogical as a cat, or a woman." - -"Yet you are a woman!" - -Fogg was beginning to be comfortable again. He would not have to -advance money to Mrs. Dudley, and having safely weathered that -dangerous cape he felt better. - -"All women are not cats or fools. For instance, I am not so foolish as -not to know the value of money, and the value of the ability I happen -to have. You say you won't advance me anything; what will you do?" - -Fogg looked at her and jingled his watch chain. - -"Mrs. Dudley, I'm willing to be as generous as you can expect, -conditionally. If that money should be paid I'd have to take a big -part of it out of my own pocket. The rest I could probably raise among -my friends. I will promise you, as faithfully as a promise can be made -that is not put in writing, that if by any means you can induce or -force Justin Wingate to vote for our man for United States senator, or -even to withhold his vote from the opposition, you shall have the five -thousand dollars you named. We could win with his vote, and if he -refused to vote at all I think we still could win. Will that promise -do?" - -"Five thousand dollars is not enough, if I am to have no money in -advance. I shall charge you interest; a thousand dollars in interest." -She laughed lightly. "Give me your promise that if Justin refuses to -cast his vote for United States senator, or votes for your man, I may -draw on you for six thousand dollars through any bank if you do not -pay the money at once, and I will demonstrate my ability to control -him. Six thousand dollars if I succeed, and not a cent if I fail. That -is fair." - -Fogg twisted uneasily in his chair, which was almost too small for his -big body. - -"You're trying to drive a hard bargain. Remember that I shall probably -have to pay the most of that money myself, if you succeed." - -"If you're as shrewd as I think you are you will not have to pay a -cent of it; you can twist it out of men who are interested in this -matter. I feel sure that your candidate for senator, together with his -friends and the cattlemen, would raise ten thousand dollars, and not -say a word against it, if this thing could be guaranteed. I've studied -the papers, Mr. Fogg." - -She laughed again lightly. - -"Yes, if it could be guaranteed." - -"This is the same; the money can be raised conditionally; you can get -it together in some bank, with the understanding that it is to be -returned to those who contribute, every cent, if the thing is not -accomplished. And another thing, Mr. Fogg; it will be as well not to -mention my name in the matter. Political secrets must be kept close, -when so many newspaper men are around. If Justin should once get the -idea into his head that a deliberate attempt is being made to control -him everything would be lost." - -"Yes, I agree with you there." He put his fat hands on the arms of his -chair and settled back heavily. He was running over the list of men -from whom money might be secured. "And I think I can raise the money, -if necessary. Six thousand dollars to you if Justin Wingate does not -vote, or votes for our man; and you can draw on me for it the day -after a United States senator is elected, if I fail to pay it. It's a -bargain; and I hope I shall have to pay it." - -"You will have to pay it. Pardon me if I say to you that I didn't come -here on a fool's errand. I have your promise, and I shall consider it -as binding as a note." - -She arose, still looking at him. For a moment she hesitated, then put -out her ungloved hand. He had scrambled out of his chair, and he took -the hand, giving it a warm pressure. - -"Mr. Fogg, now that we know each other, we can help each other!" She -fixed her clear dark eyes upon his. On her upturned face he observed a -single rouge spot, hastily applied, but it did not trouble him; his -thought was that she was very beautiful. The touch of her warm hand -tingled in his large one. "And I hope," she hesitated in a most -attractive manner, "that we can be very good friends!" - -"I should like to, Mrs. Dudley, I should like to; and I'll get you -that money. You needn't be afraid that I'll fail in that. You shall -have the whole of it, if I have to pay it myself. I'm very glad that -you came to see me in this manner, privately. You're a woman to know." - -He laughed coarsely. - -But when she was gone, when her personality no longer enthralled, and -he sat down to think of her visit in cold blood, Lemuel Fogg began to -feel that it might not be a good thing for his bank account if he knew -Mrs. Dudley too intimately. - -"But I'm glad she came," he thought, as he settled back in his chair, -put his feet on the table for comfort, and struck a match to light his -cigar; "we must have that note; or at least we must get it away from -the opposition, if it can be done. I'll begin a hustle for that money -to-morrow. But I wonder how she expects to control him? By smiling on -him, as she did on me?" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE THRALL OF THE PAST - - -Sibyl Dudley searched for both Curtis Clayton and William Sanders. -When she could not find them, she reasoned that they had gone back to -Paradise Valley, and sent them letters urging them to return to -Denver. Ben had arrived, and after a talk with Sibyl, and another with -Mary, he had induced Mary to send a pressing invitation to Lucy -Davison to visit her for a few days. - -Meanwhile, Justin was trying to find himself. The violence and -virulence of party and factional feeling astonished him. He had not -known that men could be so rabid and unreasonable. He was as -bewildered by the discovery, and by the furious assaults made on him -by men and newspapers, as he had been by the surprising fact of his -election. He could not have been assailed more vindictively if he had -been a criminal. To hold an honest opinion honestly seemed to be -considered a crime by those whom it antagonized. - -Candor had ever been impressed on him as a cardinal virtue. It brought -a shock to discover that it was anything but a virtue in this -political world to which he was so new. Concealment, duplicity, the -accomplishment of a purpose by fair means or foul, these seemed to be -the things that had value. It was true that a certain faction in -Denver agreed with him, but the agreement was for pecuniary and -material reasons. He could see that if their interests lay in the -other direction they would oppose him as heartily. Even these men -could not keep from pointing out to him how much he was to gain. They -thought to stiffen his courage by assuring him that he was on the side -that must win. As if that would move him now! No man seemed able to -understand that the opinions he held and expressed had no root in a -desire to advance himself or enrich himself. - -With these discoveries came a temporary weakening of his faith. He was -no Sir Oracle, and had never pretended to be, and he began to doubt -himself and his conclusions. He wanted to do right, but what was -right? Was it an abstraction, after all? He had never before -questioned the certainty of those inner feelings on which he had -always relied for guidance. Was conscience but a thing of education? A -man had told him so but the day before. - -As there was no help outwardly he had to burrow for it inwardly. The -stimulating wine of memory lay inward, and he drew on it for strength, -recalling those hours and even days of quiet thought and talk with -Clayton which followed the election. Before him in all its pristine -beauty rose that dream of Peter Wingate, that the desert, by which -Wingate meant Paradise Valley, should blossom as the rose. Wingate's -hopeful and prophetic sermons had made a deep impression on the -plastic mind of the boy who heard them. Though Justin scarcely knew -it, that dream of a redeemed desert, working slowly through the years, -had become his own. It had long been merely a vague desire, holding at -first the form given to it by the minister, that settlers might come -in and till the land. But Justin had long since seen that if settlers -came in, they must go out again if water was not to be had, and that -irrigation alone possessed the transforming power which could make the -dream a reality. - -The farmers now in Paradise Valley were irrigating as well as they -could. They had little money and their devices were of a make-shift -character. Yet wherever they could induce water to flow the desert -bloomed. Justin had come to sympathize with them in their struggle -against adverse conditions the more perhaps because he had so long -held that guilty knowledge of the fact that Ben Davison had cut their -dam. - -In thus surveying the field before him and choosing between the -cattlemen and the irrigationists, as they were represented in the -valley of Paradise, which was the only world he knew well, Justin had -a growing comprehension of that large truth, that if he who makes two -blades of grass to grow where but one grew before is a benefactor, a -still greater one is the man who changes a cattle range, where ten -acres will hardly support a cow, to an irrigated land where five acres -will sustain a home. This was the thing indefinitely and faultily -foreshadowed in Peter Wingate's dream. - -The conditions in Paradise Valley were duplicated in many places -throughout the state. Should the struggling farmers give way to the -cattlemen, or should they be assisted? If the farmers held the -irrigable lands there would be plenty of range left; for there were -millions of acres which could never be touched by water, where cattle -could graze undisturbing and undisturbed. But the cattlemen coveted -the rich valleys where water could be secured without the expense of -pumps and windmills, as well as the dry, bunch-grass uplands. - -To hold the land they now occupied but did not own, they had allied -themselves with the political party which promised a senator whose -influence at Washington should favor them. If the agriculturalists -won, the illegal fences stretched on every league of grazing land -would have to come down, and that would be a serious if not fatal blow -to the ranch industry as it was then conducted. Already there were -threats and warnings from Washington. - -All this Justin included in his wide survey of the conditions which -confronted him. A poll of the votes to be cast had shown that he held -in his hand the deciding ballot. If he says it to the cattlemen their -candidate for United States senator would be elected, and would use -his influence to keep the government from interfering with the illegal -fences; the farmers would have to continue their unequal struggle, and -perhaps would be forced ultimately out of the country; present ranch -conditions would be maintained, and each winter would witness a -recurrence, in a greater or less degree, of that terrible tragedy of -the unsheltered range, where helpless animals perished by hundreds in -the pitiless storms. - -Influenced by Clayton and by the circumstances and incidents of his -ranch life, Justin could not help feeling that the open range stood -for barbarous cruelty, and agriculture for the reverse. He was the -thrall of the past. As often as that memory of the unsheltered range -came back to him, and out of the swirling snows starving and freezing -cattle looked at him with hungry eyes, while his ears caught their low -meanings mingled with the death song of the icy wind, he felt that his -intuitions were right, and his doubts fled away. - -Then would come the conviction that he had been led, until he stood -where he was now. Was it not a strange thing, he reflected at such -times, that he, who as a boy had sickened at the branding of a calf, -who later had suffered heart-ache with Clayton over the tragedies of -the range, who from the first had sympathized with the farmers even as -Wingate had sympathized with them, should stand where he stood now? In -his hand lay great issues. If he proved true, he would become, without -design or volition on his part, the sword of the irrigationists. The -question which he faced was whether or not he should be true to that -dream of a blossoming desert and to the teachings of Clayton. - -Harkness had assured him, with much vehemence, that there were "no -strings on him;" the cowboys had given him their votes because they -desired to testify thus to their admiration of his bravery and their -detestation of the conduct of Ben Davison. Yet Justin knew there were -"strings on him,"--influences, friendships, feelings, hopes and -desires, which he could nether forget nor ignore. No longing for place -or power could have moved him now that he had taken his stand, and -anything approaching the nature of a bribe would have filled him with -indignation. But these other things bade him pause and consider; they -even forced him to doubt. And with Justin, doubt weakened the very -foundations of the structure of belief which at first he had thought -so stable. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -SANDERS TELLS HIS STORY - - -The evening before the day set for the election of United States -senator Lemuel Fogg received this message from Sibyl Dudley: - -"Remember our agreement. I am prepared to do what I promised. I shall -not fail, and you must not." - -At a late hour that same evening a messenger handed Justin a note. It -was from Sibyl. She was waiting for him in the lobby, and had a -carriage in the street. - -"I want to take you home with me," she said, in her pleasantest -manner. - -"Is Lucy there?" was his eager question. - -"What a mind reader you are!" She laughed playfully. "She is there, -and if you are good I will permit you to have a look at her." - -She led the way to the carriage. - -"You may see her, after you have seen some one else who is there," she -supplemented, as the carriage moved away from the hotel. - -"Who may that be?" - -Justin did not desire to see any one else. - -"Wait!" she said, mysteriously. - -Justin thought of Mary, of Ben, and even of Doctor Clayton. But he -thought most of Lucy. But for his desire to see Lucy he would not have -gone with Mrs. Dudley. - -When he arrived and was shown into the parlor he beheld William -Sanders. He could not believe that he had been summoned to meet -Sanders, and glanced about the room to ascertain if it held any one -else. Sanders was alone. Sibyl, following hard on Justin's heels, came -in while he was greeting Sanders. The latter, having risen to take -Justin's hand, moved his jaws nervously. At home he would have chewed -a grass blade or a broom straw. His cunning little eyes glanced away -from Justin's, instead of meeting them squarely. - -"I have come upon the strangest piece of information!" said Sibyl, -speaking to Justin with simulated sympathy. "I could have brought you -the news, or told you about it as we drove up, but I wanted you to -hear it from Mr. Sanders himself. It is really the strangest and most -romantic thing I ever listened to. I simply couldn't believe it when -Mr. Sanders told it to me first, but when he explained fully I saw -that it must be true." - -"And it come about in a mighty curious way; that is, my bein' hyer -did. 'Twas through a fortune teller. I've gone to a good many of 'em -in my time, but this was the best one I ever found." - -Sanders had dropped back into his chair, where he sat limply, his -loose shabby garments contrasting strangely with the furnishings of -the room. He clicked his teeth together, with a chewing motion, when -he was not speaking, and looked at Justin with shifting gaze. He was -not easy in his unfamiliar surroundings, and his manner showed it. Now -and then he glanced at Sibyl, as if for help, as he proceeded with his -narrative. - -"I ain't been feelin' jist right toward Philip Davison, as you know, -and you an' me had some trouble one't; but you know I voted fer ye, er -I reckon you know it. Anyway, I did. Well, I come up to Denver not -long ago, and this fortune teller I spoke of told me all about that -trouble I had with Davison, and about how I was put out that time by -you, and everything. She was a clairvoy'nt; went into a trance an' -seen the whole thing, and a lot more that I can't tell you now, and -when she come out of the trance we had a long talk and she give me -some good advice. Charged me two dollars, but it was worth ten, and -I'd 'a' paid that ruther than missed it. And when Mrs. Dudley called -on her----" - -Sibyl affected a very clever confusion. - -"I suppose you will think me very foolish, Mr. Wingate, and we women -are foolish! I have always refused to believe in fortune tellers, but -a friend of mine who had visited this one heard such strange things -that----" - -"That she went, too," said Sanders, with an expression of -gratification, "and I reckon she'll be believin' in fortune tellin' -from this on." - -"Well, it was very strange," Sibyl admitted with apparent hesitation. -"The things she told me caused me to write to Mr. Sanders, and now he -is here to tell you what he knows." - -"And it's a sing'lar story. And not so sing'lar either, when you look -it up one side and down t'other. I'd 'a' told you all about it long -ago, but fer certain things that took place." - -Justin, thinking of Lucy and disappointed at not seeing her -immediately, had not listened with much attention at first, but now he -was becoming interested. It began to dawn on him that this story -concerned him. So he looked at Sanders more attentively, with a glance -now and then at Sibyl Dudley. He had never admired Mrs. Dudley and he -did not admire her now; recalling the things he knew and the things he -guessed about her and Clayton, he almost felt at times that he hated -her. She was a handsome woman, but even his ignorance discounted the -assumed value of rouge and fine raiment. He wondered some times that -Clayton could ever have cared for her. He was sure he never could have -done so; for, compared with Sibyl, Lucy Davison was as a modest violet -to a flaunting tiger lily. - -"I set out to ask Doc Clayton some questions about you, the first time -I come to his house. You'll remember that time, fer me and Fogg come -together. But Clayton made me mad, when he told me that lie about his -crooked arm; instid of answerin' me, he made fun of me, and I went -away without sayin' anything." - -He chewed energetically on this old memory. - -"I didn't come back fer a good while after that, you'll reck'lect; I -got land at Sumner, an' farmed there a spell. Finally I sold out, an' -thought I'd take another look at Paradise Valley. I'd been thinkin' -about it all that time, and allowin' I'd go back when I got ready. I -might have writ to you, but I wasn't any hand to write in them days; -and I hadn't got over bein' mad at Doc Clayton." - -Sibyl, turning her rings on her shapely fingers, was anxious that he -should reach the real point, but she withheld any manifestation of -impatience. In the school of experience she had learned to wait. -Justin was also anxious, and he had not learned so well how to conceal -it. But Sanders went on unheeding, stopping now and then to masticate -a fact before proceeding further. - -"When I come back, intendin' to tell you all I knowed, which I'd begun -to feel was due ye, I got into that quarrel with Davison about the -fence before I could; and then you and me had that trouble. After that -I wouldn't tell; and I wouldn't tell it now but fer certain things. -But I reckon you'd ought to know. I dunno whether you'll be pleased er -not when you do know; but I'm calculatin' that Davison won't be -pleased, and that suits me. I don't make any bones of sayin' that I -don't like Davison; but Davison is your paw!" - -After all this slow preliminary, the revelation came like a shot from -a rifle. Not realizing this, Sanders twisted round in his chair and -began to draw from his hip pocket a grimy memorandum book of ancient -appearance. Justin was too astonished to speak. He could hardly -believe that he had heard aright, and he was prepared to dispute the -assertion, for it seemed incredible. - -[Illustration: "Sanders twisted round in his chair and began to draw -from his pocket a grimy memorandum book"] - -"Do you mean that Mr. Davison is my father?" he cried. - -"That's jist what I mean!" - -Sanders chewed again, and putting the memorandum book on his knee -opened it carefully. Sibyl Dudley, though she had seen the book -before, came forward softly from her chair to look. Her dark eyes had -kindled. Justin stared at Sanders and the book. The shock of -astonishment was still on him. He did not know what to think or say. -Sanders appeared the least concerned of all. - -"That's jist what I mean, and hyer's the little book in which your -mother writ down the things I know about it; you can see it yerself, -and you needn't believe me. You was brought to that preacher, Mr. -Wingate, by me, and left there. I took you and your mother into my -wagon. She was too sick to walk even, and she died in it; and then, -not knowin' what to do with you, fer you was jist a baby, and I was -only a kid myself, I took you to the preacher. I had left this -mem'randum book behind, through a mistake; but I give him the Bible, -and some other things, and calc'lated to bring this to him. But I -didn't right away, and then I lost track of him." - -Justin was trembling now. Though still unable to grasp the full -meaning of this revelation, he saw that Sanders was recounting things -he knew. There was no deception. He took the book in his shaking -hands, when Sanders passed it to him. It was grimy and disreputable in -appearance, but if Sander's story were true it had been hallowed by -his mother's touch. - -"When I heard the name of Wingate the first time that I come to the -valley and stopped all night at Clayton's I was goin' to ask him all -about you and tell him what I knowed; but he made me mad, when he cut -me off that way, and I didn't. 'Tain't no good excuse fer not tellin', -I reckon, an' you may think I hadn't any better excuse later on, but -that's why I didn't, anyway. Davison's treatin' me the way he did and -that trouble I had with you made me keep my head shet till now. But -that fortune teller, when I seen her the second time, said fer me to -tell you the whole thing, and so I'm doin' it, though mebbe it won't -please you." - -Sander's tone was apologetic. - -Justin heard in amazed bewilderment. Philip Davison his father! The -thing was incredible, impossible. But he opened the memorandum book -with reverent fingers, as Sanders wandered on with his explanations -and excuses. This little diary at least was real. The first glance -showed him the familiar handwriting which he knew to be his mother's. -He knew every curve and turn of the letters penned in the little -Bible, which at that moment was in his trunk at the hotel. There she -had written: - -"Justin, my baby boy, is now six months old. May God bless and -preserve him and may he become a good man." - -Here was the same handwriting, a portion of it in pencil so worn in -places as to be almost illegible. Hardly hearing what Sanders was now -saying Justin began to read. The dates were far apart. Some of the -things set down had been written before Justin was born; others must -have been penciled shortly before her death. Many were unrelated and -told of trivial things. Others concerned her husband and her child. -The details were more complete in the later pencilled notes, where she -had sought to make a record for the benefit of her boy in the event of -her death, which she seemed to foresee or fear. There was sadness here -and tears and the story of a pitiful tragedy; and here also in full -were the names of her husband and her son. - -She was the wife of Philip Davison, and her son Justin was born a year -after her marriage. Davison was then a small farmer, with a few -cattle, living in a certain valley, which she named. Davison, as -Justin knew, had come from that valley to the valley of Paradise. -Davison's habit of occasional intoxication was known to her before her -marriage, as was also his violent outbursts of temper; but love had -told her the old lie, that she could save him from himself. The result -had been disaster. In a fit of drunken rage he had so abused her that -she had fled from him in the night with her child. A terrible storm -arose as she wandered through the foothills. But she had stumbled on, -crazed by fear and more dead than alive. How she lived through the -week that followed she declared in this yellowed writing that she did -not know, but she had lived. She was journeying toward the distant -railroad. Now and then some kind-hearted man gave her a seat in his -wagon, and now and then she found shelter and food in the home of some -lonely settler. She would not return to Davison, and she hoped he -believed she had died in the storm. - -The brief record ended in a blank, which had never been filled. -Sanders--his name was not mentioned by her--had taken her into his -prairie schooner--he was but a fatherless boy himself--and there she -had died, worn out by suffering and exhaustion. But her baby had -lived, and was now known as Justin Wingate. - -A deep sense of indignation burned in Justin's breast against Philip -Davison, as he read the pathetic story. Against Sanders he could not -be indignant, in spite of the wrong the man had done him by -withholding this information through all the years; for Sanders had -soothed the last moments of his mother, and Sanders' wagon had given -her the last shelter she had known. Justin's fingers shook, and in his -eyes there was a blinding dash of tears. - -Sanders was still drawling on, stopping occasionally to chew at an -unwilling sentence. It was an old story to him, and so had lost -interest. Sibyl was standing expectantly by, watching Justin with -solicitude for her plans. His feelings did not reach her. - -"So I am Philip Davison's son!" - -Justin drew a long breath. His voice was choked and the words sounded -hoarse and strange. - -"I reckon I ought to 'a' told you a good while ago," Sanders -apologized; "but I kinder felt that it would please Davison, and after -that trouble you an' me had I didn't want to tell it; and, so, I -didn't." - -His cunning gray eyes shone vindictively. - -"I don't mind sayin' to you that I wouldn't turn my hand over to save -Davison from the pit, if he is your father; he didn't do right by me, -an' you didn't do right by me. It won't please him to know that you're -his son, fer you're fightin' him teeth an' nail; and so I'm willin' to -tell it now." - -Sanders' ulterior motive was exposed. First and last hatred of Philip -Davison and of Justin had guided him. - -"It must be a pleasure to you to know who your father really is," said -Sibyl, sweetly. - -Justin regarded her steadily, without actually seeing her. His -faculties were turned inward. - -"Yes, that is true; I am glad to know who my father is. I have -wondered about it many times. But I never dreamed it could be Mr. -Davison. It doesn't seem possible now." - -Yet in his hands he held the unimpeachable record. - -Sanders rose, shuffling and awkward. - -"I'll turn the mem'randum over to you; I reckon it belongs by rights -more to you than to Davison, and I don't keer even to speak to him; -he's never done right by me." - -Justin aroused as Sanders moved toward the door. - -"Sanders," he said, "I'm obliged to you for this. I recognize this as -my mother's handwriting. You ought to have given it to me long ago, -but I'm glad to get it now. And I thank you from the bottom of my -heart for what you did for her. I shall never forget it." - -"Oh, 'twasn't nothin' at all," Sanders declared, glad to escape the -denunciation he had feared. - -"And I want you to tell me more about my mother," Justin urged; "what -she said when she came to you, and how she looked, and everything." - -Sanders sat down again, chewing the quid of reflection, and gave the -details Justin demanded, for they had held well in his tenacious -memory. Justin, listening with breathless interest, asked many -questions, while Sibyl sat by in silent attention and studied his -strong beardless face. He thanked Sanders again, when the story was -ended. - -Sanders appeared anxious to depart, now that he had performed his -mission, and Sibyl was glad to have him go. Justin remained in the -room. He was thinking of Lucy and desired to see her. - -"When I got on the track of that story and understood what it meant, I -felt it to be my duty to bring you and Mr. Sanders together and let -you hear it from his own lips," said Sibyl, regarding Justin -attentively. "And I told him to be sure to bring that diary, for I -knew you would want to see it and would prize it highly." - -It was in Justin's pocket, but he took it out again, still handling it -reverently. - -"I thank you for that, Mrs. Dudley," he said with deep sincerity. "The -whole thing is so new, so unexpected, that I am not yet able to adjust -myself to it; but it was a kindness on your part, and this book I -shall hold beyond price." - -He studied again the yellowed writing. - -"It is beyond price, for my mother wrote it!" - -He put the book away and looked at Sibyl. - -"The way I chanced to hear of the story was very queer," Sibyl -explained. "And the way it has turned out justifies the superstitious -spasm which took me to that fortune teller. Sanders was coming out of -her room as I went in. I had seen him in Paradise Valley, and so -recognized him, though he did not notice me. When I passed in I spoke -to the woman about him, telling her that I knew him; and then she gave -me the story she had drawn from him, or which in a confidential moment -he had told her. I saw the value of it to you, if true. I had an -interview with him for the purpose of verifying it; and then I -arranged this meeting, for I thought you ought to receive it straight -from him." - -Justin thanked her again. - -"I think I should like to see Lucy now," he said, "if you have no -objection." - -Sibyl seemed embarrassed, as she answered: - -"I'm sorry to have to say that the servants inform me that she has -gone out with Mary to spend the night with a friend in another part of -the city. I thought she would be here, and I was sure you would want -to have a talk with her after that." - -Justin was disappointed. - -"I might as well be going then. It is late; too late I suppose to call -on her at the place where she is stopping. I will see her to-morrow -evening." - -He got out of his chair unsteadily. His emotions had been touched so -strongly that he felt exhausted, though he had not realized it until -he arose. Then he took his hat and went out, after again thanking -Sibyl for her kindness. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -IN THE CRUCIBLE - - -In his room at the hotel, Justin re-read that little memorandum book -many times that night, and tried to accommodate his mind to its new -environment. It was a difficult task. But at last the harshness he had -felt toward Philip Davison went out of his soul. By degrees the -submerged longing for a father's love began to make itself felt. -Philip Davison was his father; he did not doubt it now, though it -seemed so strange. He had known from Ben and Lucy that Philip Davison -had married twice. Ben was the child of the first marriage, and he the -child of the second; and Ben was his half brother! - -He saw resemblances now that he had never thought of. Looking at his -reflection in the mirror, he beheld blue eyes like those of Philip -Davison. The forehead, the nose, the length of body and limb, were -all, when thus studied, reminders of Philip Davison. Davison was -florid of face, and Justin would probably be florid of face when he -grew older, for his complexion was now of that type. Davison's face -was seamed with the marks of petulance and many outbursts of bad -temper. Justin did not see any of those marks in his own smooth -youthful countenance, but he knew that if he gave way to the fits of -rage that swept over him at times with almost uncontrollable force, -similar marks might set there the seal of their disapproval. - -He was sure, however, that in many ways he was not like Philip -Davison, even though he had as a boy so admired Davison; and he was -glad to believe that these better traits he inherited from his mother. -Though he did not know it, from his mother he had inherited the iron -will which was manifesting itself. It had manifested itself in her -when she refused to turn back to the home from which she had fled, but -traveled on, weak and faint, until death claimed her. Her body had -broken, but her will had stood firm to the last; and it had shown -itself up to the end in her resolute manner of putting down in that -little book her story for the benefit of the child she hoped would -live after she had failed and passed on. To Ben, the child of the -first marriage, had descended Philip Davison's weaknesses and from his -mother had come the slight stature and the pale face. Except in his -mental characteristics Ben resembled his father less than Justin did. - -Justin did not sleep that night. He knew that Philip Davison was in -town, and he began to long to see him. This desire rose by and by as a -swelling tide, bearing with it the years' suppressed longing for a -father's love. As a child Justin had felt that inexpressible longing. -It had moved within him when Clayton came first to the preacher's -house and he had pressed closely against Clayton's unresponsive knees -while exhibiting the little Bible in which his mother had written. -Clayton had afterward satisfied that longing in a measure; but only -the knowledge that the touch of the hand laid on him was really the -touch of the hand of his own father could ever satisfy it fully. - -So, through the years, that desire had yearned. Justin felt it again -now, deeper than hunger, more anguishing than thirst. And it was not -lessened by the feeling that Philip Davison might not wish to satisfy -it, and perhaps could not. For circumstances stood now like a wall -between this father and son; circumstances which were not the choice -of either, any more than were the intuitions and the motives, selfish -or otherwise, which led them. They had traveled by different paths, -and they stood apart. Nevertheless, the yearning was there, deep, -pathetic, and it seemed that it would never be appeased. Justin forgot -that white indignation that at first had burned with furnace heat -against Philip Davison. Love took its place. Philip Davison was his -father! - -As this desire gained in strength Justin made an effort to see his -father. He decided that he would put that little diary into his -father's hands and be guided by the result. He surely could trust the -better impulses of his own father! But he failed to find Davison. Fogg -was absent, probably in attendance upon some all-night caucus, and -Fogg was the only man likely to know where Davison could be found. - -In the morning Justin discovered that Davison was temporarily absent, -possibly out of town, but was expected at any moment. Fogg told him -this, and observed that Justin showed a flushed, anxious face and had -passed a sleepless night. Thereupon, remembering the promise of Sibyl -Dudley, Fogg's courage rose. He dared not question Justin, and Justin -was non-committal. This new knowledge Justin wished to share first of -all with his father. - -In his room a brief note was brought to him. Lucy Davison was in the -ladies' parlor, and he went down to see her. She was seated by one of -the windows that overlooked the noisy street. When she arose to meet -him he saw that Sibyl had told her everything. There was sympathy and -glad happiness, mingled with anxiety, in her manner. Her emotions -tinted her cheeks and shadowed her brown eyes. Being a man, Justin did -not note how she was dressed, except that it was very becomingly. -Being a woman, she not only knew that she was entirely presentable -herself, but saw every detail of his garb, from his well-polished -shoes to the set of his collar. And she knew that he was clean and -handsome. He had never questioned that she was the most beautiful -woman, as to him she had been the most beautiful girl, in the world. -Mary Jasper's rose-leaf complexion and midnight hair were juvenile and -inane beside the glory of Lucy Davison's maturing womanhood. - -"I am so glad, Justin, for you!" she said, and gave him her hands -without reserve. - -"And I am glad!" His voice choked, as he led her back to the window, -where the rumble of the street noises stilled other sounds. "I am -glad; though at first I couldn't believe it, for it seemed so -improbable. But I'm sure now it is true." - -She looked at him with fond admiration; at the straight firm features, -at the handsome head with its crown of dark hair, at the tall muscular -form, and into the clear blue eyes. And the blue eyes looked into the -brown with love in their glance. - -"And you're almost related to me," she said, sympathetically, "for -you're Ben's half-brother!" - -He smiled at her, and tried to assume a cheerful, even a jovial tone. - -"I had thought of that, and of what a good thing it is that we're not -wholly related!" - -"Let me see! What is our relationship now?" - -"You are my sweetheart now, and will be my wife some day!" - -She flushed attractively. - -"I didn't mean that. Let me see--Ben's mother and my mother were -sisters. So Ben and I are cousins." - -"And I am Ben's half-brother, so you and I are half-cousins." - -He tried to speak in playful jest. - -"No, we're not related at all!" - -"Then we shall have to become related, at an early day." - -"Uncle Philip is my uncle by marriage, but not my blood uncle. I am a -cousin to Ben through my mother and his mother, who were sisters. So -if I have no blood relationship with Uncle Philip, your father, I have -none with you, for your mother was not related to me in any way." - -"And I say again I am glad of it." He retained his jesting tone, -though his mood was serious. "But if you marry me you are going to -marry bad luck, for it seems that my name is Davison. You know the -rhyme: - - "'To change the name and not the letter, - Is to change for worse and not for better.'" - -"You insist on joking about it. You know that Davison was not my -father's name, but only the name I took when Uncle Philip adopted me." - -"And that will break the bad luck spell!" - -"Don't you think it will?" - -"I think it will; I know it will!" he declared. - -"I came to see you about something, as well as to congratulate you and -sympathize with you." - -"I tried to see you last night and failed." - -"Yes, I know. I heard about it this morning. I wish I could have seen -you last night, but it is as well this morning. What I want to ask you -is if you intend to vote against the cattlemen to-day?" - -The cheery light died out of his eyes. - -"I have thought it over, and have talked with Mrs. Dudley, and it -seems to me it is your duty to consider the matter very carefully now -that you know your relationship to Uncle Philip." - -A conservative by nature, and unconsciously influenced by the -atmosphere of the Davison home, Lucy Davison had begun to fear that -Justin was in the wrong. From that there was but a step to the -conclusion that it was her duty to tell him so. She did not dream that -she was but a pawn in the game which was being played by Sibyl Dudley. - -Justin looked into the earnest brown eyes, and his voice was grave. - -"If any one in the world could make me vote against my opinion it -would be you. I'm not going to argue with you, but let me say just -this. If I vote with the cattlemen, or refuse to vote at all, it will -place me in the position of sustaining them in a rebellious defiance -of the national government, in addition to upholding the unsheltered -range, a question on which perhaps we could not agree. But the fences -which they maintain on government lands are so clearly illegal that -the government has in some instances ordered them down. The cattlemen -hope by sending a senator to Washington to have that order rescinded -and the entire matter dropped. They have fenced untaken public lands, -and lands which settlers occupy, or wish to occupy, and they want to -continue this without interruption from Washington." - -"You said you didn't intend to argue!" - -"I do not intend to argue. I'm simply going to ask if you think I -would be justified in using my vote, or withholding it, to continue a -practice that is in defiance of the orders of the land department, -even to please my own father?" - -"That order is not, as I understand, a legal enactment, and it might -be changed," she urged. - -"It will be changed, no doubt, if the cattlemen win; but should it be -changed, or withdrawn?" - -"It seems to me that the settlers are doing well enough, and those -fences aren't injuring anybody." - -He was silent a moment, thinking. - -"I want to please your Uncle Philip--my father--and I want to please -you. I'll admit that I have myself had some doubts on this question -lately, serious doubts. Yet I cannot make myself think that I have not -been in the right from the first. If I thought I was wrong I would -change in a minute without regard to the consequences." - -"It wouldn't be right for me to urge you to vote against your -conscience," she admitted, touched by his fine sense of honor. "Only, -as I've tried to think it over and get at the right of it, it has -seemed to me that there are, must be, two sides to the question. Every -question has two sides, you know." - -"Yes; that is so." - -She went on, not sure of her ground, nor altogether certain of -herself; yet feeling that this was a crucial moment and that every -argument ought to be duly weighed and considered. - -"You won't feel hurt if I remind you that you are inexperienced? New -light may come to you, so that the opinions you now hold you may not -hold a year from now." - -"That is true; but so long as I do hold them I must be honest about -it." - -"It is the opinion of Uncle Philip that this annoyance of the settlers -cannot last. He says there are only a few places where they can farm -successfully. But in the meantime, while they are trying every place, -they are making a vast amount of trouble, by thus spreading all over -the country. You know, yourself, that some of them are taking land -where water can never be got to it. The immediate result will be, -Uncle Philip says, that the ranchmen will be almost ruined, by being -forced to surrender land to them that can never be fit for anything -but a cattle range. The settlers will find out by and by that the land -cannot be farmed; but while they are finding it out, and bringing loss -to themselves, they will bring the downfall of the cattlemen." - -"I have thought of all these things," he said. - -He looked at her earnestly. He was troubled. - -"Lucy, I wish I only knew what I ought to do in this crisis! I must -face it and do something. I have looked for your Uncle Philip, and -intend to look for him again, and shall try to have a talk with him. -He is my father, and when he knows that he is, and I ask him to advise -me as a father would advise a son----." He stopped, in hesitation. -"Anyway, whatever I do--whatever I do--remember that I love you!" - -As soon as she was gone, he began another search for his father, -driven by the feeling that he must explain fully to Davison his views -and motives, as well as hear Davison's arguments and opinions, and so -perhaps be able to stand erect in Philip Davison's estimation, as well -as in his own. This was an anxious, even a wild desire, and it pressed -him hard. - -Fogg, scenting a reconciliation, sent a messenger in hurried search of -Davison. At the hotel, and at the state house, the lobbies were -overflowing. Men began to come to. Justin not singly but in platoons. -Somehow the word had gone round that he was weakening. But he was not -ready to talk. To friends and enemies alike he was non-committal. He -wanted to see his father; he wanted to place in his hands that -memorandum book, and get an acknowledgment of their relationship. The -interminable buzz of the anxious and excited politicians struck -against deaf ears. - -Philip Davison was out of town. - -Fogg, with telegraph and telephone, was wildly trying to reach him. -Sibyl Dudley had come to the state house in shivering expectancy. The -jarring hum of the political machine rose ever higher and higher, yet -Justin gave no indication of a changed or changing purpose. - -The ordeal through which he had passed since coming to Denver had -taught him how to keep silent amid the maddest tumult. At first he had -sought to justify whatever course he intended to pursue, only to find -his statements snapped up, distorted, spread abroad with amendments he -had never thought of, and so mutilated that often even he could not -recognize the mangled fragments. So, having learned his lesson well, -he kept still. Other men could do the talking. To the men who besieged -him he had "nothing to say." Until he saw Philip Davison and placed -that diary in his hands he felt that he could have nothing to say. -Even then he might act without saying anything. From time to time he -observed Fogg watching him covertly. - -While he waited, senate and house convened and began to vote for the -senatorial candidates. Fogg went into the senate chamber, after -speaking to a member of the lower house. Justin, whose name was far -down on the rolls, remained in the lobby until a sergeant-at-arms came -summoning members of the house to vote. Then he entered. When he -dropped heavily into his seat he was greeted by suppressed cheering -and a buzz of anxious and excited comment. These things did not move -him; what moved him was a mental view of his father's face, and that -inner tide of feeling demanding the satisfaction of a father's love. - -Suddenly he recalled Fogg's covert and anxious looks, and like a flash -came the question: Could this whole thing be but a plot to bewilder -him and cause him to vote with the ranchmen, or not at all? He knew -that Lucy would not deceive him, but she might herself be deceived. He -could not doubt that record in the handwriting of his mother, but -after all the reference might be to another Philip Davison. His nerves -tingled and his brain reeled under the influence of this startling -suggestion. - -While thus bewildered, his name was called. He half rose, staggering -to his feet, hardly knowing what his physical actions were. But his -mind began to clear. Clayton's face, the dream of Peter Wingate, and -that picture of the unsheltered range, rose before him; again he saw -the illegal fences; again starving cattle looked at him with hungry -eyes, and their piteous moans were borne to him on the breath of the -freezing wind. Once more he was the thrall of the past. His courage -stiffened, the firm will was firm again. He felt that there was but -one rock on which he could set his trembling feet, and that was the -rock of righteousness. If in this crucial moment he failed to stand -for that which in his innermost soul he knew to be right, the -self-respect which had nurtured his sturdy young manhood would be -gone. His face whitened and his hand shook; but his voice was firm, -when he announced his vote. It rang with clear decision through the -silence that had fallen on the house. - -Sibyl Dudley had lost. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -FATHER AND SON - - -Philip Davison saw Lucy before she returned to Paradise Valley and -learned from her the strange story which had been told by William -Sanders. From Fogg and others he had already heard how Justin had -voted. And the discovery that even after Justin had been informed of -this relationship he had voted against the cattlemen hardened his -heart. He refused to see Justin now, and went back to Paradise Valley -angry and uncomfortable. There he sought out Sanders and obtained the -story direct from him. - -After his talk with Sanders, a talk in which Sanders revealed to the -full the bitterness and vindictiveness of his narrow mind, Philip -Davison shut himself up in his room at the ranch house, where he would -not see any one, and through the greater part of the night sat -reviewing the past, while he smoked many cigars. The drinking habit -which had been the curse of his earlier years he had conquered. Since -the night in which his wife had fled never to return, he had not set -liquor to his lips; and Ben's growing habits of intoxication threw him -continually into a rage. Only that morning, encountering Clem -Arkwright and Ben together in the town and seeing that both had been -drinking, he had cursed Arkwright to his face, and with threats and -warnings had ordered Ben home. That Ben had not obeyed did not make -Philip Davison's cup the sweeter that night. - -The prosaic accuracy of the details of the story told by Sanders, with -what he knew himself, convinced Davison of its truth, in spite of his -previous belief that the cloud-burst which came shortly after his wife -had fled from home had engulfed and slain both her and her child. His -belief of her death had been based on the fact that nearly a year -after her disappearance the unidentified bodies of a woman and child -had been found in the foothills; and in a little, remote cemetery, -where these bodies rested, a simple slab held the names of Esther and -Justin Davison. - -Davison recalled now that it was the name, more than anything else, -that had induced him to give Justin employment on the ranch. The name -of Justin and the memories it evoked had touched some hidden tendril -of his heart, and had made him kind to Justin at times when but for -that he might have been otherwise. As often as he had felt inclined to -turn upon Justin in hot anger that name had softened his wrath. He had -never a thought that Justin was his son; yet the name had won for -Justin a warmer place in his regard than Justin could have won by his -own merits. - -As Davison sat thus in the shadowed memories of the past, there came -to him a stirring of natural affection. But, whenever he turned to -what he considered Justin's dastardly betrayal of the ranch interests, -this vanished. To combat it there was, too, a long-smoldering feeling -against the woman who had deserted him, and who by so doing had -revealed to the world his drunken rage and cruelty. That desertion he -had never been quite able to forgive. For years he had tried not to -think of her; but that night her memory rose strong and buoyant. He -knew he had wronged her deeply, and had outraged her feelings cruelly. -Perhaps that was at bottom why this long-smoldering recollection of -her aroused his smothered anger. - -By degrees, as he thought over the past, Davison began to resent what -seemed an injury done him. It was as if fate had preserved this boy -through all the years to avenge the wrongs of the mother. His own son -had risen to oppose him, to thwart his desires, to smite him with -mailed fist. And he had helped unwittingly to fit fighting armor to -the stalwart shoulders of this son; for it was through his position on -the ranch, as the companion and friend of the cowboys, that Justin had -arrived at that condition of comradeship with them which had really -given him his present place. Davison felt that Ben should have held -that position--Ben, who had the ranch interests at heart, and would -have voted right. Ben was disobedient, wild, intractable, but Ben -would have voted right! Davison loved Ben. Justin seemed still an -outsider, an intruder. And the feeble stir of natural affection passed -away. - -Justin remained in Denver through the remainder of the legislative -session and cast his vote with the agriculturists on a number of -questions. He wrote to Lucy frequently, but she did not re-visit -Denver, so he did not see her again until his return to Paradise -Valley. In her letters she acquainted him fully with the fact that -Philip Davison did not feel kindly toward him. Justin wrote a letter -also to Davison, but it was not answered. He did not again see Sibyl -Dudley, nor Mary Jasper. And Fogg apparently had been permanently -alienated. - -When Justin came home, and it was known at the ranch that he was at -Clayton's, Philip Davison sent for him. Justin obeyed the summons with -anxious hesitation, and took the little memorandum book with him, and -also his mother's Bible. He had not sent the diary to Davison with the -letter as proof of their relationship, and he was resolved not to part -with it now. Davison might examine it as much as he liked, but he -should not keep it, nor should he destroy it. - -Davison received Justin in the upper room where he had sat that night -thinking of the past. His bearded face was flushed and his manner was -constrained. Justin had a sense of confusion, as he stood face to face -with this man whom he now knew to be his father. It seemed an -unnatural situation. Yet in his heart was still that longing for a -father's recognition and love. He had not put off the clothing he had -worn while in the city; he might not do so at all, as he did not -intend to become again a cowboy or work on a ranch. That phase of his -life was past. Philip Davison never wore cowboy clothing, except when -engaged in actual work on the range or at the branding pens. Yet he -was not dressed at his best, as he now received his son; and having -come in from a long ride, his black coat was still covered with dust. - -The blue eyes of the father and of the son met. Justin was as tall, -and his features much resembled those of his father. But while one -face was beardless, and young and strong, the other was bearded and -prematurely aged. In Davison's reddish beard, which was worn full and -long, were many strands of white, and whitening locks showed in his -thick dark hair. The blue eyes were heavy, and the fleshy pads beneath -them seemed to have increased in fullness and size. Justin even -fancied there were new lines in the seamed and florid face. Justin's -face was flushed and his swelling heart ached, as he stood before his -father. - -Davison waved him to a chair without extending his hand in greeting, -and Justin sat down. Then Davison took a seat and looked at him across -the intervening distance as if he would read there the truth or -falsity of Sanders' story. Apparently he was satisfied. - -"I have had a talk with Sanders," he began, speaking slowly and with -an effort. "You have a memorandum book which I should like to see." - -Justin produced it with fumbling fingers. Philip Davison took it -without apparent emotion, and opening it looked it through. Having -done so he closed it and passed it back. In the same way he examined -the Bible which Justin gave him. - -"You are my son; I haven't seen any of your mother's handwriting for a -long time, but I recognize it readily. The story told in that diary -has been naturally colored by her feelings. I hope I am not quite as -black as she has painted me. But all that is past, and it is not my -intention to talk about it now. The point is, that you are my son. -Since hearing about this matter I have been thinking over our -relationship and asking myself what I ought to do. As my son, when I -die I shall see that you are not unprovided for; but the bulk of my -property will go to Ben, with something for Lucy. I wasn't always as -prosperous as I am now; I've had to fight for what I've got, and I -still have to fight to keep it. I have done and am doing this for Ben. -Your sympathies have been from the first with those who are my -enemies, and in the legislature you voted with them from beginning to -end. You were elected chiefly by ranch votes, and you betrayed all of -the ranch interests. The thing is done now, and can't be undone; yet, -after all my struggles, it is not pleasant to know that the hand of my -own son did this thing." - -He settled heavily back in his chair. - -"So the most of what I have will go to Ben. He is wild, but he will -settle down; I was wild in my youth. You are like your mother. She was -an obstinate angel with an uncomfortable conscience, and for some men -such a woman is an unpleasant thing to live with." - -Justin felt a swelling of indignation at this mention of his mother. - -"You have all of her obstinacy and general wrong-headedness on matters -which don't concern you. I am willing to say to you frankly, that -after a brief experience with her I ceased to desire to live with her; -but even yet I do not think she had any good reason to leave me as she -did. It took her to her death, and in the long run has made you pretty -much what you are. So I do not see that I can blame you in all things, -but I do blame you for the pig-headed obstinacy and foolishness you -showed in Denver. You had a great opportunity to befriend those who -had befriended you and would have helped you, and you wilfully, even -maliciously, threw it away." - -In spite of his feelings Justin maintained a discreet silence. His -longing for something more than a bare recognition of his relationship -he saw was not to be gratified. He had returned the diary and the -Bible to his pocket, where he felt them close against his heart. They -seemed akin to an actual memory of his mother, and could not be taken -from him, whatever happened. Their pressure was almost as the touch of -his mother's warm hand on his bosom. - -"If you like," Davison went on, "you may transfer yourself to this -house and remain here, doing what work on the ranch you please. Some -of the cowboys have been dismissed, and others will be soon. But for -this fact that you are my son I should forbid you to come upon the -place. There is going to be a change in the business, too; your votes -at Denver helped to make that necessary, and perhaps in that change -you may find work more congenial to you than ranch work. Think it -over. I want to do what is right by you. I will see that you have -employment if you want it, and in my will I shall see that you are not -wholly unprovided for. That is all." - -He arose, and Justin stood up in flushed confusion, having said not a -word either in justification of himself or his mother. He had no words -now, as he passed from the room and from the house, though if he could -have voiced anything it would have been the disappointment that -murmured in his heart. - -With the memory of that interview oppressing him, Justin questioned -whether he had not after all been stubborn, pig-headed, and cruel. He -reflected that perhaps he had been, even though he had sought to do -only that which was right. His mother, he had been told, possessed an -"uncomfortable conscience," and he did not doubt he had one himself. -It could not be wrong to do right, of course, but at times it seemed -very inexpedient. Should a man bend himself to expediency? If he had -done so, his father would have received him doubtless with warm words, -instead of that biting chill which frosted the very glance of the -sunshine. - -Standing in the yard oppressed and tortured by doubt, Justin saw Lucy -Davison coming toward him from the direction of the little grove. The -cottonwoods were still bare, but that she had visited them seemed a -good omen, and he moved toward her. - -Her brown eyes smiled as they met his. She was temptingly beautiful; a -mature woman now, with the beauty of a fragrant flower. Her clear -complexion had not changed since her girlhood, and the tint which -emotion gave to her cheeks was as the soft blush of the ripening -peach. She was more beautiful than when a girl; all the angularities -of girlhood were gone; and when from his greater height Justin looked -down on her rounded throat and swelling bosom, and caught that kindly -light in her eyes, he forgot the chill of the room from which he had -come and the cold calm of his father's speech. - -"I am afraid you are a bad, bad boy," she said, with a touch of -sympathy, as she put her hand on his arm, "but I hope Uncle Philip -hasn't been saying terrible things to you. You have been to see him, I -know?" - -"Yes, I have been to see him, and the interview wasn't wholly -pleasant. Perhaps I have been the bad boy you suggest, and he may be -justified; I'm sure I don't know. All I know is I tried to do what was -right, and appear to have made a mix of it." - -"Come in and we will talk it over. Uncle Philip told me this morning -that you may come and go all you want to, or even make your home here -now. That is pleasant news, anyway, isn't it?" - -Her pleasant manner softened the recollection of that painful -interview with Philip Davison. So Justin passed from an unpleasant -interview to one so pleasant that it almost took the bitterness and -the sting out of the first. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -CHANGING EVENTS - - -Among those who were first to welcome Justin on his return to Paradise -Valley were Steve and Pearl Harkness. They came to Clayton's with -their little daughter, of whom they were proud. They made their call -in the evening. Harkness was clad in new brown over-alls and jacket of -the same material, and looked too big for them. Mrs. Harkness rustled -in a dress of real China silk, whose shade of red made her round red -face seem even hotter and redder than it was, Helen was fluffy in -white skirts that stood out like those of a ballet dancer. Clayton in -his dusty snuff-colored clothing, and Justin in his business suit of -checked gray were insignificant figures compared with Pearl Harkness -and her daughter. - -"Now, Helen, what was it I told you to do?" said Pearl, lifting a -plump round finger and shaking it at Helen, as soon as Harkness had -finished his boisterous greetings. - -Helen hesitated, and Pearl catching her up deposited her in Justin's -lap. - -"Now, what was it I told you to do?" - -Then Helen remembered. Putting her chubby arms about Justin's neck and -leaning hard on his breast, while she squeezed to the utmost of her -strength, she said: - -"I love you, Justin; I love you!" - -Justin clasped her tightly in his strong arms. - -"I love you, too!" he declared, and kissed her. - -Standing by while he held Helen thus, Pearl, with a touch that was -almost motherly, pushed the clustering dark locks back from his -forehead, revealing the scar of a burn. She gave it a little love pat. - -"You won't mind?" she said, and to Justin's surprise her voice choked -with a sudden rush of tears. "You seem almost like my own boy, Justin. -You weren't much more than a boy, you know, when you first came to the -ranch; and I can't help remembering how you got that scar. I wanted to -see if it had gone away any." - -Harkness coughed suspiciously. - -"If you ever git married, and your wife pulls out so much of your hair -that you're bald-headed, that scar's goin' to show," he said. - -Pearl caught Helen out of Justin's lap, with sudden agitation. - -"Helen, you're getting dirt all over Justin's nice new clothes!" With -bare plump hand she brushed away some infinitesimal specks which -Helen's shoes had left. "I ought to have looked at her shoes before I -put her up there! Why didn't you tell me to, Steve? Helen, you'll -never be a lady, unless you keep your shoes clean." - -"All them heroes and hero-wines of Pearl's keeps their shoes ferever -spick an' span an' shinin'," said Harkness. "People always do, you'll -notice, in books; at least them she reads about do. She was readin' a -book yisterday, and I looked at the picture of the hero. He had boots -on that come to his thighs, and they'd jist been blacked. And the -women in them books wear more fine clothes than you could find in a -milliner's shop." - -"Clothes aren't found in a milliner's shop, Steve!" Pearl corrected, -as she settled Helen firmly on her feet and proceeded to spread out -the fluffy white skirts. "Justin will think you don't know anything." - -Helen, escaping from her mother's clutches, and apparently glad to -escape, made straight for Harkness, who caught her up, planted on her -cheek a resounding kiss, and then plumped her down astride of one big -knee. Pleased by this preference, his face was radiant. - -"Justin," his eyes shone with enthusiasm and delight, "there ain't -anything like bein' married. Try it. I used to think I was havin' fun, -cuttin' round skittish and wild like a loose steer on the range; this -ain't fun, mebbe, it's comfort." - -"From what I hear, Justin intends to try it one of these days," said -Pearl, with a questioning look. "Don't you think he is, Doctor -Clayton? You're hearing things like that, aren't you?" - -Clayton laughed, and glanced at Justin's flushing face. - -"I can't say what his intentions are, but if they concern a certain -young lady I could name, they have my hearty approval." - -"Yet it does seem almost like marrying relatives," said Pearl. "I -can't get used to that yet. I had a cousin that married another -cousin; and their children--well, you just ought to see their -children!" - -"Monkeys, air they?" said Harkness. - -"Monkeys! Why, Steve, they're plum fools! They don't know enough to -come into the house when it rains." - -"This would be a good country fer 'em to live in, then; don't rain -here more'n one't in a year, and I reckon they could strain their -intellects enough to git a move on 'em that often." - -He looked at Justin. - -"Speakin' of this country and rain, we're reckonin', Pearl and me, -that we'll take up farmin', fer a change; think it might be healthy -fer our pocket book. I've had notice from Davison to quit, the first -of the month. I told him I'd quit to-morrow, if it suited him and he -had a man to put in my place; that if he didn't think I was earnin' -all the good money I got and a little bit more, I did, and I stood -ready to go on short notice, or without any notice at all. I've knowed -it was comin' this good while, and I've been gittin' ready fer it. -Davison and Fogg air sellin' off a good many cattle. The rest they're -goin' to throw onto the mesa, an' water at the water holes of the -Purgatoire; the gover'ment is orderin' down the fences, and it would -take an army of cowboys to hold the cattle off the crops, with them -fences gone." - -Clayton was interested. - -"Do you think of farming here in the valley?" he asked. - -"Yes, we're figgerin' on buyin' Simpson's place; it's well up toward -the head of the ditch, and if any water comes we're reckonin' that -will give us a whack at it. Simpson's made me an offer to sell. I'm -jist waitin' to see what's goin' to turn up here in the ditch line." - -"I tell him he'll wait round till it's too late," said Pearl. "Fogg -will buy that land before he knows it; he's buying up farms -everywhere, for himself and Davison." - -She turned to Justin with a smile. - -"I've been wondering if you wouldn't get married and settle down to -farming, too; you never liked ranching." - -Pearl was as much of a match-maker as any dowager of her favorite -novels. - -"Pearl won't never be satisfied until that weddin' comes off," said -Harkness. "These women air bound to have a weddin' happenin' about -one't in so often, er they ain't happy; if it can't be their own -weddin', another woman's will do. The weddin's of a neighborhood air -what keeps the old maids alive, I reckon; they live ferever, ye know, -drawin' happiness out of other women's marriages." - -"I'm not an old maid!" Pearl asserted with spirit. - -"No; I happened along!" - -Before Mr. and Mrs. Harkness departed that evening, Dicky Carroll, -galloping by, stopped for a few moments. - -"I've got a job over at Borden's," he announced to Harkness. "He'll be -a better man to git along with than Davison, anyway; so I'm kinder -glad to go. And if I stay round hyer longer I'll be tempted to shoot -Ben full of handsome little holes; he's been meaner than a polecat to -me ever sense that election." - -Then he shook hands with Justin and Clayton, who had come out into the -yard. The moonlight revealed him in full cowboy attire, with his rope -coiled at the saddle bow. - -"They're sayin', Justin, that you helped to bu'st the cattle bizness -round hyer. I ain't believin' it; but if you did, what's the dif? -There'll be plenty of ranches fer as long a time as I'm able to -straddle a pony and sling a rope, ranches back where the farmers can't -go. When I can't ride a horse any longer I'll quit cow-punchin' and go -to playin' gentleman like Ben. From the fine clothes he wears I judge -there's money in it. Well, so long; luck to all of you!" - -Fogg did not vary from his custom, when he visited Paradise Valley. He -came over to Clayton's, and sat in the little study, in the chair he -loved, which, though big, was now almost too small for him. He put his -fat hands on the arms of the chair, stretched out his fat legs, and -with his watch chain shining like a golden snake across his big -stomach, talked as amiably and laughed as loudly as ever. - -Lemuel Fogg believed that it is better to bend before the storm than -to be broken by it. The government at Washington had heard from the -farming settlers and irrigationists of the West. Many states had -spoken that winter, and their voice had been as one. The agricultural -element, feeble and scorned at first, was becoming a power. Congress, -heeding its voice, was beginning to devise ways and means by which -vast areas of public land hitherto thought fit only for grazing, if -for that, could be watered by irrigation. Even the East, long hostile -because it did not want more rich Western lands opened to compete with -Eastern agriculture, held modified opinions. The order of the land -department for the removal of the illegal fences on the public domain -was to be enforced, and the fences had begun to come down. Seeing the -hand of fate, Fogg and Davison had sold some of their cattle, were -contracting their grazing area, and had begun to take thought of other -things. - -"We'll go with the tide," said Fogg, whom Davison followed in most -things pertaining to matters of business, for Fogg's success had been -phenomenal. "What do we care whether it's cattle or something else, if -we can get money out of it? Never buck against the government; it's -too strong, and you'll get into trouble. We'll turn farmer; we'll -irrigate." - -So Fogg and Davison were increasing their already considerable -holdings of land in Paradise Valley, by purchases from settlers and -from the mortgage companies. It was reported that in some places -ranchmen secured land by inducing their cowboys to settle on -quarter-sections and so obtain title from the government. Fogg and -Davison would not do that. Not because they were too scrupulous, but -because they were too wise. It would be an unpleasant thing to be -haled into court for land swindling by the government agents who were -ordering down the fences. - -While thus securing the land, they had quietly obtained a controlling -interest in the irrigating canal which the settlers had constructed. -It was owned by a stock company; and before the farmers knew what was -occurring it was to all intents and purposes in the possession of -Davison and Fogg. - -"It begins to look as though you were right, Justin, and that I was -wrong, up there in Denver," said Fogg, sliding his fingers along his -watch chain and beaming on Justin. "I couldn't see it then, but it -really looks it; anyway, your side seems to be winning out, and I -didn't think it could." - -"I thought I was right," Justin declared, with vigorous -aggressiveness. - -"Yes, I know you did; but I thought you was wrong, and of course I had -to oppose you. But, anyway, it's all right now; we're going to make it -all right. Some few of the farmers are kicking because Davison and I -have got control of the ditch, but they'll live to bless the day the -thing happened. We'll strengthen their dam and enlarge the canal and -laterals and furnish plenty of water. Where they watered ten acres -we'll water hundreds. We've got the money to do it with, and they -hadn't; that's the difference." - -His shining watch chain rose and fell on his heaving stomach, as he -talked. Looking at it, Justin could almost fancy it had been wrought -of that gold which Fogg, with heavy but nimble fingers, gathered from -even the most unpromising places. Fogg seemed almost a Midas. - -Fogg did not take his departure before midnight, but when he went he -was in a very good humor with himself and all the world. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -IN PARADISE VALLEY - - -Coming one forenoon from the kitchen, where she had been instructing -the new cook installed in the position Pearl had held so long, Lucy -observed Justin walking in a dejected manner down the trail that led -to Clayton's, and saw that he had been in conversation with Philip -Davison. She knew what that conversation had been about, and when -Davison came into the house she followed him up to his room. There was -a heightened color in her cheeks, as she stood before her guardian. He -looked up, a frown on his florid face. - -"What is it?" he asked almost gruffly; but she was not to be put down. - -"You won't mind telling me what you said to Justin awhile ago?" - -She slid into a chair, and sat up very straight and stiff. - -"You sent him to me, I suppose?" - -"I didn't, but I have known he meant to speak to you." - -"He wants to marry you!" - -"That isn't news to me." - -"No, I suppose it isn't. But what has he got to marry on?" - -"Now, Uncle Philip, I'm going to say what I think! Justin is your son, -and every father owes something to his child. Don't you think so?" - -Davison's blue eyes snapped, but he would not be angry with this -favorite niece. - -"Well, yes, I suppose so, if you put it that way." - -"Justin and I have been just the same as engaged for a long time." - -"Yes, I've known that, too. I told him to show what there was in him; -and," his tone became bitter, "he has shown it!" - -Lucy refused to become offended. - -"Of course we can't marry unless you help him along. Justin has been -wanting to go to Denver. He thinks he could do well there by and by, -after he became acquainted and had a start. Doctor Clayton knows a man -there to whom he will give him a letter. But expenses are something -terrific in a city, and we should have to wait a long time before -Justin could work up to a salary that would justify us in getting -married." - -"So it's you that wants to get married, is it?" - -"I am one who wants to get married; Justin is the other." - -Davison laughed in changing mood. - -"What do you demand that I shall do?" - -"I don't demand anything, I simply suggest." - -"Then what do you suggest? He had the nerve to say that he thinks he -is capable of managing the new ditch." - -"I simply suggest that you help him in some way, as a father who is -able to should. He has worked for you a long time for very small -wages; wages so small that he could save nothing out of them, as you -know. I think that you ought to start him on one of the farms you have -recently bought, or else give him some good position, with a salary -that isn't niggardly. It seems to me he is capable and worthy." - -"If I don't give him a position, that will postpone this most -important marriage?" - -"I don't want him to go to Denver." - -A smile wrinkled Davison's face and lighted his blue eyes. - -"You are a good girl, Lucy; and Justin is a--is a Davison! And that -means he is hard-headed and has a good opinion of himself. I'll think -about it. Now run down and see that the cook doesn't spoil the dinner. -She burnt the bread yesterday until it was as black as coal and as -hard as a section of asphalt pavement. By the way, I don't suppose you -could cook or do housework?" - -"Try me!" she said, relaxing. - -And she departed, for she did not yet trust the new cook. - -The next day Davison offered Justin the position of ditch rider, at a -salary that made Fogg wince and protest, though he believed Justin to -be the very one for the place. That Justin should be given this -position seemed even to Fogg advisable, as a business consideration. -The "rider" of the canal and ditches comes into closer relationship -with the water users than any other person connected with an -irrigation company. He sees that the water is properly measured and -delivered, and he makes the equitable pro-rata distribution when the -supply is low or failing. Justin had the confidence of the farmers; -and, as there were sure to be many complaints, he would be a good -buffer to place between them and the company. - -Justin accepted the position. In a financial sense, it promised to -advance him very materially; and the prospect of the proper irrigation -of Paradise Valley pleased both him and Clayton. It was the beginning -of the fulfillment of Peter Wingate's dream. Yet Justin knew he was -asked to undertake a difficult task. Even when they had everything in -their own hands, the farmers had wrangled interminably over the -equitable distribution of the water. - -Having control of the source of supply and of the canal and laterals, -the first act of Fogg and Davison was to offer water to the farmers at -increased rates. They were strengthening the dam, and widening the -canal and laterals, at "terrific cost," Fogg claimed, and -reimbursement for this necessary outlay was but just. - -It was Fogg who planned and Fogg who executed. This was new business -to him, but no one would have guessed it. Over his oily, scheming face -hovered perpetual sunshine. His manner and his arguments subdued even -intractable men. It was said of him that he could get blood out of a -grindstone. What he said of himself was, "Whenever I see that the -props are kicked out from under me, I plan to have some kind of a good -cushion to land on." The cushion in this case was the exploitation of -the inevitable, the irrigation of Paradise Valley, for the benefit of -the exploiters. - -Many new settlers were drawn in by attractively-worded advertisements. -Then one of the things Justin had feared came to pass. Fogg sold more -water than he could deliver, trouble arose, and this trouble -descended, in great measure, on the head of the ditch rider. In spite -of all he could do to distribute the water fairly complaints and -protests were made. - -Fogg had planned for this condition, and he was iron. He claimed that -an unusually dry year had worked against the success of the company; -and as there was a clause in the water notes covering such a failure -to supply water, the farmers were forced, sometimes under the -sheriff's hammer, to pay the notes they had given. Buying sometimes -from the sheriff, and sometimes through second parties from the -farmers themselves, for numbers of them, in disgust, were willing to -sell and leave the country, before the end of the first year Fogg and -Davison had greatly increased their land holdings, by "perfectly -legitimate" methods. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE DOWNWARD WAY - - -Making the rounds of the house one night before retiring, Lucy came -upon Ben Davison rummaging through the desk in his father's room. The -drawers of the desk had been pulled out, the small safe had been -opened, and papers littered the chairs and floor. Surprised thus, Ben -faced her with an angry oath. She saw that he had been drinking. -Instead of putting color into his pale face, intoxication always made -it unnaturally white and set a glassy stare in his eyes. - -"What are you doing here, Ben?" she demanded. - -"I'm looking for money," he declared surlily. "Is it any of your -business?" - -"I think it is, when you begin to look for it in this way. Uncle -Philip doesn't know you're up here." - -"I'm going to have money, that's what!" he snarled. "Let him give me -the money I need, instead of driving me to tricks like this." - -"He gave you money only the other day; I saw him." - -"How much? A hundred dollars! There's money in this room, or there -was, and I know it; and I'm going to have it. I'm going to have as -much as I want, too, when I get my hands on it." - -"I shall have to report you, Ben!" - -He caught her fiercely by the shoulders, with a clutch that made her -wince and cry out in pain. - -"You have hurt me, Ben!" she sobbed. - -"I'll kill you, if you come meddling with my affairs!" - -He pushed her against the wall, and faced her with so threatening a -mien that she was frightened. The glare in his glassy eyes was enough -to make her tremble. - -"If you say anything about this I'll kill you! Do you hear? And if you -know where the money is I want you to tell me." - -"I don't know anything about it," she declared. - -"Curse you, I believe you do! I want money, and I'm going to have it. -I've got to have a thousand dollars; it's here, and I know it." - -He began to search again, tossing the papers about. - -"Uncle Philip never keeps so much money as that in the house, and you -should know that he doesn't." - -"Well, he could get it for me if he wanted to. He's got plenty of -money. I'm tired of being treated like a beggar. He says he's carrying -on his business so that he'll have money to leave me when he's dead; -but that isn't what I want--I want it now." - -"Won't you go down stairs, Ben?" she begged. "You almost broke my -shoulder, but I shan't mind that if you will go down stairs; and I'll -straighten up these papers for you and return them to their places." - -"I won't! I'm going to see if that money he got from Fogg yesterday is -here." - -"He put it in the bank of course, Ben; he wouldn't run the risk of -keeping it in the house." - -"You go down stairs or I'll make you," he threatened. - -She did not go. - -"What do you want the money for--to pay a gambling debt to Arkwright?" - -"Arkwright!" he screamed at her. "It's always Arkwright! But I'll tell -you, this money isn't for him. Instead of troubling me, why don't you -go to that puler, Justin? He'll be glad to see you, maybe; I'm not. So -clear out." - -"He is your brother!" - -"My half-brother, _he_ says; I've not acknowledged the relationship -yet!" - -She could do nothing with him, and she retreated down the stairs. For -some time she heard him walking about; then he descended and left the -house. When he was gone she went up to the room and found that he had -tried to re-arrange the papers, but had made a mess of it. She put -them away as well as she could, and closed the drawers and the safe. -She did not believe that he had secured any money, but she did not -know. And she passed a bad night, not knowing whether to acquaint -Davison with this latest of Ben's escapades or not. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -MARY'S DESPAIR - - -Justin had found Sloan Jasper one of the most troublesome of the water -users. Jasper was almost as hard to please as William Sanders; and -only the day before Sanders had denounced Justin as being in league -with the company to defraud the farmers. For these reasons Justin -always approached the farms of these men with trepidation. Trouble was -brewed on each visit. - -The trouble which brewed at Sloan Jasper's on this particular occasion -was, however, wholly unexpected, and of quite a different kind. Jasper -came out to the trail with an anxious air. - -"Mary is in the house and wants you to stop in and see her." - -Justin dismounted to enter the house. He had not known that Mary was -at home. - -"It's about Ben," said Jasper, "and I wish he was in hell! The way he -is carryin' on is killin' my girl by inches." - -With this stout denunciation of Ben ringing in his ears Justin went in -to see Mary. She had been crying. Jasper followed him into the house -and stood within the doorway, in an uneasy, angry attitude, holding -his soiled hat in his hands. - -"I wanted to see you about Ben," said Mary, rising to greet Justin. - -Her cheeks were pale and her eyes lacked lustre. With that rose-leaf -color gone, her face was so pallid that it deepened by contrast the -darkness of her eyes and her hair. She was rather handsome, in spite -of all, in one of those Denver dresses chosen by Sibyl Dudley, which -served to make her look taller and more stately than she was. - -Mary's desire was to have Justin do something to induce Ben to let -liquor alone. She acknowledged that she had lost all control over him, -if she had ever had any. More than once he had treated her brutally -while in a fit of intoxication. Yet she had clung to him. Having won -her girlish love, he still held it. She had long hoped that he would -abandon his wild ways after awhile and become a sober, sensible man, -to whom she could trust her life and happiness. She admitted that the -hope was growing faint. - -"I don't see what I can do," said Justin, touched by her unhappiness, -and perplexed. "If I go to Ben and say anything to him he will only -insult me. He hasn't liked me for a long time, as you know." - -"Perhaps if you would speak to Mr. Davison," Mary urged, with pathetic -persistence. - -Justin was sure that would present almost as many difficulties. He -knew that Philip Davison had long reasoned with Ben, and raved at him, -in vain. - -"Since it's known that you are his half-brother, I thought possibly -you could do something. I've tried until I don't know what to try -next." - -"Give the scamp the go-by," said Jasper hotly. "Throw him over. Have -some spunk about you, can't ye? Why, if I was a woman, and a man -should treat me as he has you, I'd send him hummin' in a jiffy; I -wouldn't stand it." - -"But you don't understand, father." - -"Don't I? I understand too tarnal well. If I had my way I'd kick his -ornery carcass out of this house, if he ever ventured to set foot in -it ag'in. That'd be my way. Any other way is a fool's way, and you -ought to know it." - -"Don't listen to him, Justin," said Mary, tearfully. "You must know -how I feel, even if he doesn't. And if you can do anything to get Ben -to stop drinking and running around with Clem Arkwright I wish you -would." - -Never more than at that moment did Justin long for some influence with -Ben. He knew he had none. He made what promises he could, but they -were not very assuring. Mary followed him to the door, still urging -him. - -Riding on, thinking of Mary, Justin encountered Lucy. She joined him, -and they rode together along the homeward trail. When she rallied him -on his depressed manner, he told her of Mary's appeal. - -"Yes," she admitted, "I had heard she was at home, and I know only too -well that Ben has been drinking more than ever of late. I can see that -it is hurting Uncle Philip very much. He has always believed that when -Ben sows what he calls his wild oats he will change and be a man, but -I've doubted it. There isn't anything you can do, not a thing; but I -shall go to see Mary, and try to make her feel better." - -She looked earnestly at Justin, riding beside her. He had put aside -the checked business suit of gray, and was clad roughly, as became his -muddy calling. Yet how manly he was, however he dressed; how broad his -shoulders, how sturdy and well-knit his frame, how clear and open his -countenance, and how intelligent and attractive the flash of his eyes, -as he conversed with her! She knew that she loved him more than ever. - -"One would never dream that you are related to Ben!" - -"I hope I am not like him, even though he is my half-brother." - -"You aren't, not in the least; I don't think I could like you so well -as I do if you were." - -"Then you do like me?" - -He looked at her, smiling. - -"It would be only natural for me to like the man I have promised to -marry, wouldn't it?" - -"I was merely hoping that you love me; like is too mild a word." - -Then they began to talk again of that delightful day, ever hastening -nearer, as they believed, when they should be not merely lovers, but -husband and wife. It was a pleasant dream, and they lingered by the -way, as they contemplated its beauties. - -As they thus talked and loitered, Ben Davison came driving by in his -clog-cart, with Clem Arkwright. Arkwright's pudgy form was not quite -so pudgy, for he had not lived as well of late, but his face and nose -were as red as ever, and his old manner had not forsaken him. He bowed -elaborately to both Lucy and Justin. - -"A great day," he called, "a glorious day, and the old mountain is -grand; just take a glance at it now and then as you ride along; you'll -never see anything finer!" - -Ben did not look at Justin; but to Lucy he shouted: - -"I'm going to town to sell the horse and dogcart. I told you I would. -Arkwright knows a man who will buy them." - -When Lucy called on Mary, she heard details of a story which Mary had -not ventured to hint to Justin. Mary had made a discovery too long -delayed. Ben's frequent visits to Denver were not merely to see her; -the real attraction was Sibyl Dudley. Sibyl was the recipient of most -of the money Ben had been able to wring from his father or gain at -gambling. Her calls for money had increased his recklessness. Sibyl -was the horse-leech's daughter, crying ever for more, and Ben was -weak. - -Mary had pedestaled Sibyl and believed in her, refusing to see aught -but goodness, until her foolish belief became no longer possible. -Then, with her eyes opened, she marveled at her almost incomprehensible -blindness. Why had she not seen before? If she had seen before she -might have saved Ben, she thought. She recalled the genial Mr. -Plimpton. Had Sibyl, by incessant demands for money, wrought the -financial overthrow of Plimpton? Every suggestion that came to her now -was sickening and horrible. Such an awakening is often disastrous in -its results. Doubt of humanity itself is a fruit of that tree of -knowledge, and that doubt had come to Mary. - -Lucy took the unhappy girl in her arms. She was herself grieved and -shocked. - -"You poor dear!" was all she was able to say at first. - -"And, oh, I am to blame for it all!" Mary sobbed, putting her arms -about the neck of her comforter. "I can see what a fool I was, and it -was pride that made me a fool. I went up there as ignorant as a child; -I thought it would be fine to live in a city and be a lady and drive -round in a carriage. How I hate that carriage! And that coachman. I -know even he must have thought horrid things about me. And Plimpton! I -know what Plimpton was now, and I hate him. It seems to me I could -stamp on him if I saw him fall down in the street. And I--I hate--oh, -there isn't a word strong enough to tell how I hate Mrs. Dudley! I -thought she was an angel, and she is--is--a brute!" - -"You poor dear!" said Lucy, smoothing back the dark hair from the -fevered and tear-wet face. "You poor dear! You have been cruelly -deceived and abused. It doesn't seem possible! I was as much deceived -as you, for I thought Mrs. Dudley a very pleasant woman. There were -some things about her I didn't like, about the way she dressed and -painted, yet I never thought but that she was a good woman. I didn't -suspect anything, for you told me she was rich." - -"And that's what she told me, but she lied; she's been getting her -money from fools like Plimpton and Ben. And I used her money, and -lived in her house, and rode about in her carriage with all Denver -gaping at me, and never knew a thing. Even this dress I have on was -bought with her money. I want to tear it off and stamp it into the -mud; but I haven't a thing to wear that she didn't get for me, not a -thing. And my--my silly pride is to blame--is to blame for Ben, and -everything. If I hadn't gone with her Ben might never have met her. -But if Ben could only be induced to quit drinking, something could be -done with him yet. I almost wish he would get sick; anything to keep -him away from that woman." - -"Did he say anything to you?" - -"Yes, he did, when I hinted at what I had discovered and told him I -had left Denver for good and all; he told me I was a little idiot. But -I didn't mind that; I've got so used to his harsh words that I don't -mind them; but this I couldn't stand, this about Sibyl. So then I put -aside my shame, and I told him right to his face that I was a silly -idiot or I would never speak to him again; and he confessed to me that -he had been going there to see Mrs. Dudley more than me, and said he -would go as often as he pleased, and that I could help myself; and he -said, too, that he intended to marry her. But I know that isn't so; he -would never marry her now. I told him he wouldn't, and begged him to -remember his promises to me and keep away from her; and he told me to -shut my mouth and mind my own business. As if that isn't my own -business!" - -She began to cry again; and Lucy, holding her tightly, rocked her as -if she were a child. - -"And, oh, I was so happy! So happy, until I knew that! It was a -selfish happiness I see now but I thought it was true happiness. I -thought everything of Mrs. Dudley--just everything; and I thought she -loved me as much as I loved her; and to have this come! It breaks my -heart, it breaks my heart! Oh, Ben, Ben!" - -She lay in Lucy's arms. Their tears flowed together. But what could be -said to comfort her? - -"Did Mrs. Dudley say anything?" - -"When I reproached her she was indignant and denied it; she cried, and -said I was an ungrateful girl and did not deserve to have a friend. -She declared that Ben came only to see me; but in her very confusion I -could see that she was lying, for when my eyes began to open they -became sharp as needles. Oh, I could see through her, after that! I -told her she had stolen Ben from me, and all for his money, and that -she was ruining him, and that it would kill me. I don't know what I -said, for I was crazy, and I was crying so that I thought my heart -would break. And just as soon as I could get out of the house I did, -and I came right down here; but even then I had to use her money, a -little money she had given me, to pay car fare, for I hadn't any -other. But just the thought of it made me want to jump off that train -and kill myself." - -"You poor dear!" - -And Lucy, holding her in a close embrace, kissed the tear-stained -face. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE WAGES OF SIN - - -The knowledge of why Mary had returned so suddenly came first to -Justin through Sloan Jasper himself. Jasper met Justin as he rode -along the trail the next day, and told him all about it, without -veiled words, and with many fierce oaths. - -"He's killed my girl, damn him; broke her heart! She's home, cryin' -her eyes out day and night, and all on account of him. She's a fool; I -wouldn't look at the skunk ag'in, if't was me; but she's a woman and -that accounts fer it, and it's killin' her." - -Justin hastened to convey the news to Curtis Clayton, whom he found at -home, in the front yard, engaged in freeing a butterfly from the -spoke-like web of a geometric spider. A flush of indignation swept -through Justin, as the thought came to him that perhaps Clayton had -known all along and had kept silent. Clayton took the butterfly in his -hands and began to remove the clinging mesh from its golden wings. -When he had done so his fingers were smeared with its gold dust and it -crawled along unable to fly. He regarded it thoughtfully. - -"I've done the best I could; I released it, but I can't put the gold -back on its wings, nor mend them. The rest of its life it will be a -draggled wreck, but luckily its life will be short." - -Then Justin told him what he had learned from Sloan Jasper. - -Clayton cast the draggled butterfly away and sank to a seat on the -door-step. His face filled with a troubled look. For a little while he -said nothing. - -"I suppose that I am partly to blame for that," he confessed, humbly. -"I have never talked to you about Mrs. Dudley, but I will tell you now -that she was once my wife." - -Justin showed no surprise. - -"I knew it." - -"You knew it! How? I never mentioned it to you." - -"No, but I have seen that photograph of her you have treasured, and I -saw her that day of the rabbit hunt. Putting those two things -together, with something that Mary told Lucy, made me sure that she -had once been your wife." - -Clayton was bewildered. - -"Something Mary told Lucy?" - -"Yes, about your arm; Mrs. Dudley told Mary how you came to have a -stiff arm, and though she did not admit that she was the woman who -caused it, and Mary did not suspect it then, Lucy did; and she told me -about it." - -Clayton stared at the butterfly crawling away through the grass. - -"When I heard that Mary had gone with Mrs. Dudley to Denver, I rode -over to Sloan Jasper's to tell him that I feared it was not wise. But, -really, I had nothing on which to base a charge, except my suspicions. -I knew why I had left her, but nothing more. And my courage failed. I -said nothing, and I should have said something. But," he leaned back -wearily against the door, "when you come to love a woman as I loved -her, Justin, you will perhaps know how I felt, and why I hesitated. I -was weak, because of that love; that is all I can say about it." - -The contempt growing for Clayton in Justin's heart was swept away. He -knew what love, true love, is; the love which believeth all things, -hopeth all things, endureth all things; which changes never, though -all the world is changed. - -"I loved her," Clayton went on, his deep voice trembling, "and rather -than say anything that might not be true I said nothing. I did wrong. -And I am punished, for this thing hurts me more than you can know." - -Justin had come close to Clayton's heart many times, but never closer -than now. He looked at the suffering man with much sympathy. Clayton -swung his stiff arm toward the crawling butterfly. - -"It can never be the same again; I was never the same again, nor can -Ben be. It has been in the web, and its wings are broken and the gold -gone. We think that under given circumstances we would not do certain -things, but we don't know. Environment, heredity, passions of various -kinds, selfishness, pull us this way and that; and when we declare, as -so many do, that if we were this person or that we should not do as he -or she does, we simply proclaim our ignorance. There is not a man -alive who knows himself to the innermost core of his being. I am a -dozen men rolled into one, and the whole dozen are contemptible. I -despise myself more than you can." - -"Why should you say that?" - -"You did despise me, or came near it, a moment ago; I saw it in your -manner." - -"Was my manner different? I didn't know it, and didn't intend that it -should be. But I couldn't understand how you could keep still so long, -if you knew." - -"I kept still because I am a coward, and because I loved that woman. -That explains everything; explains why I am here in Paradise Valley, -living like a hermit. I wanted to get away, and I wanted to forget. I -got away, but if one could take the wings of the morning he could -never out-fly memory. I could never live happily with that woman, and -I have never been able to live happily without her. When she came into -my life she wrecked it. Some women are born to that fate, I suppose; -and if that is so, perhaps they ought not to be blamed too severely. -But I am sorry for Mary Jasper, and I am more than sorry for Ben. He -was already going to the devil at a lively gait. Sibyl is one of those -women whose feet take hold on hell, and she will drag him down with -her, if he does not get out of her web, or is not helped out. And I'm -afraid he can't be helped out." - -Clayton set out to see Davison, and have a talk with him on this -disagreeable subject; but, as before when he desired to speak to Sloan -Jasper, he turned back without saying anything. - -Davison seemed not to know what had occurred. He and Fogg went often -to and from Denver, as they continued their work of exploiting -Paradise Valley for the benefit of their pockets. From Denver they had -brought an engineer, who had made a survey and report on the available -sources of water. Behind a granite ridge, at the head of the valley, -flowed Warrior River, a swift stream that wasted itself uselessly in -the deep gorges that lay to the southwest. The engineer's report -showed that a tunnel cut through that ridge would pour Warrior River -into Paradise Creek and water many thousands of acres of land which -could not now be touched. - -"We'll do it later," Fogg had said to Davison, when they examined the -plans and estimates. "It's going to take too much money right now. -We'll try to get those thousands of acres into our own hands first. -Then we'll cut that tunnel and build that dam, and we'll squeeze a -fortune out of the business. We may have to float irrigating bonds, -and put blanket mortgages on the land, but it will pay big in the -end." - -Davison was subservient to the man who had the Midas touch. It was -still for Ben, all for Ben; to gain wealth for Ben he was permitting -himself to be led by one who in matters of business never had a -straight thought. - -As they returned from Denver one night by a late train, a lantern was -swung across the track at the cut near the head of Paradise Valley, a -mile above the town. The whistle screamed, and the air-brakes being -applied, the train came to a stop so suddenly that the passengers were -almost thrown from their seats. Before the grinding of the wheels had -ceased shots were heard outside. - -Fogg clutched the big wallet tucked in the inner pocket of his coat. - -"By George, it's a hold-up," he cried, his fat body trembling, "and -I've got a thousand dollars in cash here to give to those fool farmers -who wouldn't accept our checks in payment for their land!" - -He sank back into the seat, quivering like a bag of jelly. Fear of the -loss of that money unnerved him. Davison was of different mold. As the -shots continued, and he heard voices, and saw men jumping from their -seats, he sprang into the aisle, tugging at the revolver he carried in -his hip pocket. Fogg sought to restrain him. - -"Sit down! Don't be a fool! Let the other fellows do the fighting. -That's always my rule, and it's a good one. If I'm not troubled here, -I'll promise not to trouble anybody." - -But Davison was gone, following close after a man he saw hurrying to -the platform. He and Fogg were in the smoking car, which was next to -the combination baggage-and-express car. Other men dropped from the -platform steps to the ground as he did, and some of them began to fire -off their revolvers, shooting apparently into the air. - -Davison was not a man to waste his ammunition in a mere effort to -frighten the robbers by the rattle of a harmless fusillade. He saw a -masked figure moving near the forward car, and he let drive, with aim -so true that the masked figure pitched forward on its face. The other -robbers, disconcerted by the resistance, were already in retreat. - -With a grim feeling of satisfaction Davison called loudly for a -lantern. One was brought hurriedly; and a train man, whipping out his -knife, severed the strings that held the mask in place over the face -of the slain robber. Fogg was still in the smoker, his fat body -shaking with fear. - -As the mask dropped aside, the light of the lantern revealed to the -startled gaze of Philip Davison Ben's pallid, dissipated face. He was -bending forward to look, and with a hoarse and inarticulate cry he -fell headlong across the body of his son. - -One of the robbers was captured that night, as he attempted to escape -into the hills. The town and the valley had been aroused. Steve -Harkness led the capturing party, and short work was made of this -robber. When morning dawned a rope and a telegraph pole alone upheld -him from the earth. As the body swung at the sport of the wind, the -blackened face was turned now and then toward the flat-topped -mountain. On the breast was displayed this scrawl: - -"SO'S HE CAN LOOK AT THE SCENERY." - -The body was that of Clem Arkwright. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -SHADOWS BEFORE - - -Philip Davison, conveyed to his home in Paradise Valley, hovered -between life and death, attended by Doctor Clayton and waited upon by -Lucy and Justin. Fogg lent a hand with hearty will, and Pearl -Harkness, forgetting that there had ever been any disagreement between -Davison and her husband, established herself again for a time in the -Davison home, that she might assist Lucy. Steve Harkness, not to be -outdone by his wife, offered his services in any way they could be -utilized, and found that there was enough for him to do. - -Davison improved somewhat, but could not leave his bed. From the -strong man he had been reduced until he was as helpless as a child; -and for a time his mental strength was but little better than his -physical. - -Before going back to Denver Fogg took Justin aside. - -"I don't see but I shall have to ask you to look after things here, -Justin, while I am gone." - -"Command me in any way," said Justin. - -"It's a lucky thing that you're capable of taking hold now. Some one -ought to visit the Purgatoire and see how the cattle are doing there, -and some one must ride the ditch and look out for matters at this end -of the line. Harkness can go to the Purgatoire; he will go if you ask -him, though likely he wouldn't for me; and you can have charge here." - -Fogg was mentally distressed. The shock had left its traces even on -his buoyant nature. Through worry he had lost girth; the ponderous -stomach on which the shining chain heaved up and down as he breathed -heavily and talked was not so assertively protuberant, and his fat -face had lost something of its unctuous shine. Somehow, though he -could hardly account for it, for nothing in the shape of material -wealth had so far been lost there by him, Paradise Valley oppressed -him like a bad dream, and he was anxious to get away from it for a -time. - -"I shall be glad to do whatever I can," Justin declared. - -"It's your own father who is lying in that room, which he'll never get -out of I'm afraid, and I knew of course you'd be willing to help out -now all you can. Clayton doesn't speak very favorably of the case. -There isn't really anything the matter with Davison, so far as any one -can see. It's his mind, I reckon; it must have been an awful shock to -him, perfectly terrible, and it has simply laid him out. He thought -everything of Ben. Well, I'm not a man to talk about the dead; but Ben -would have tried the soul of a saint, and if I must say it to you I -never saw anything very saintly in the character of your father." - -"It's a good thing Harkness didn't move out of the valley when he left -the ranch." - -"A great thing for us now. He's dropped everything over on his farm -and stays here almost night and day. I'll see that he doesn't lose by -it." - -While they were talking, William Sanders came up, chewing like a -ruminant. - -"When I had my fortune told that time in Denver the fortune teller -said there was goin' to be a heap of trouble down here, and it's come. -I don't reckon that Paradise Valley is any too lucky a place to live -in, after all. But them that makes trouble must expect trouble." - -Fogg did not deign to notice this. - -"How are your crops, Mr. Sanders?" he asked, with his habitual smile. - -"They might be better, if the ditch company and the ditch rider done -their duty. I ain't scarcely had any water fer a week, and that field -of millet in the northeast corner of my place is dry as a dust heap. I -been wonderin' when I'll git water to it. That's why I come over." - -Justin promised to see to it. - -"Davison ain't doin' as well as he might, I hear?" - -He plucked a straw and set it between his teeth. - -"Not doing well at all," said Fogg. - -"Well, it's a pity; but them that makes trouble must expect trouble." - -When Lemuel Fogg returned to Paradise Valley a month later Philip -Davison was not changed greatly. His mind was clear, but his physical -condition was low. Clayton remained with him much of the time, when -not called away to visit other patients. But Davison never spoke to -him of Ben nor of Justin. - -With Fogg at this time came a man who represented an Eastern -home-builders' association, whose object was to establish homes for -worthy but comparatively poor men in favorable places on the cheap -lands of the West. The association was conducted by charitable men and -women who had collected funds for their enterprise. There were many -excellent families, this man said, in cities and elsewhere, who would -be glad to go upon farms, if only they could do so. It was the purpose -of this society to help such people. It would place them upon farms, -furnish comfortable houses, give them a start, and permit them to -repay the outlay in longtime installments. The self-respect of a -farming community thus established would be maintained, and that was a -factor making for moral health which could not be overlooked. - -When Fogg had shown this man about the valley he introduced him to -Justin, and later talked with Justin about him. - -"I've listened to him," he said, "and his proposition strikes me -favorably. He wants to buy canal and dam, land and everything, and he -offers a good price. If we accept, he will cut the tunnel through the -ridge to the Warrior River and bring that water in here to irrigate -the valley, and he will bring on his colony from the East. As soon as -Davison is able to talk about it, I'll put the matter before him. I -think it would mean big money to us, if we sell a part of the land, -enough for them to settle their colony on; and sell out to them, too, -our interests in the irrigation company. They're in shape to cut that -tunnel to the Warrior and put in a good dam. When the thing has been -developed as they propose to develop it, every acre in this valley -will be worth ten times what it is now. So, you see my point. They'll -cut the tunnel, develop and settle the country, and thus make the land -we shall still hold worth a good deal more than the whole of it is -worth today, counting cattle and everything else in. But to induce -them to take up this enterprise we've got to sell them our stock in -the canal company and enough land to make it worth their while. If we -don't, there are other valleys in the state, and they'll go elsewhere -and do what they think of doing here." - -Fogg was enthusiastic. This new plan offered greater profit than -anything that had yet been brought to his consideration. It built a -new dream-world in Justin's mind. In this dream-world the vision of -Peter Wingate took actual form, and he saw the desert burst into bloom -and fruitage. - -At another time when Fogg came down there came with him a cattleman -who desired to purchase the herd that grazed on the mesa above -Paradise Valley and watered where the fenced chute opened upon the -water-holes. It was still a considerable herd, and troublesome near -the irrigated farms. Its grazing range lay on the now contracted area -that stretched round to the southward of the valley and extended to -and beyond the Black Canon. The fence by the Black Canon had been -ordered down by the government agents, and the herd was for sale. - -Davison's condition was improved, and Fogg went in to discuss with him -the subject of the sale of this herd, or a large portion of it, and -also the proposition of the man from the East. - -Coming out, he met Justin with a smile. - -"You haven't seen your father this morning?" - -"Not this morning; but I was in his room awhile yesterday, and he -seemed much better." - -"Very much better; he's going to get well, in my opinion. I've had a -long talk with him, and he agrees with me about those sales. The man -who came down with me is ready to buy. We'll let him have what he -wants; the remainder of the herd we'll throw over on the Purgatoire. -You may tell Harkness about it, and things can be made ready for the -transfer of the cattle. They'll have to be driven to the station for -shipment." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -PHILOSOPHY GONE MAD - - -One day it became known that Sibyl Dudley had visited Paradise Valley -and was stopping in the town. She had ridden out to call on Mary -Jasper. - -Justin carried the unpleasant news to Clayton. - -"I hope I shan't see her," said Clayton, nervously. He had received -the news in his study, where he had been writing. Now he laid down his -pen. "I hope it isn't her intention to call here. But tell me about -it; why has she visited Mary?" - -"That I don't know. Lucy saw her as she left Jasper's. She will find -out for me." - -"And Mary? I haven't heard about her for some time." - -"She is very much changed. You would hardly know her. She was in bed -nearly a month after Ben's death. But I've thought she looked better -lately." - -"Youth is strong," said Clayton; "it can survive much. But I am -surprised that Mrs. Dudley has called there." - -When Justin had nothing further to communicate Clayton turned again to -his writing. But that night he called Justin into his study, a place -in which Justin had passed many pleasant hours. Clayton was -hollow-cheeked and nervous. The news of the coming of Sibyl to -Paradise Valley had not been without its evil effect. - -"You are well, Justin?" he inquired solicitously. - -"Quite well," said Justin, with some show of surprise. - -"I hoped so; but things have gone so wrong here lately that I worry -about every one." - -He took up some sheets of paper on which he had been writing. - -"In our latest talk I was telling you something about the new views I -have worked out concerning spiritual matters. I told you I had come to -the conclusion that the laws which apply to the material world apply -also to the spiritual world. In the material world we have the law of -evolution. We do not know how life begins, but we know how it -develops. Applying this to the spiritual world, we may say that though -we cannot know how spiritual life begins it must develop after it -begins. And development implies different grades or orders of beings; -name them angels, or what you will." - -"You know I said I wasn't able to agree with you about all those -things," Justin reminded, gently. - -"That doesn't matter; it is nothing to me who believes or disbelieves. -Whatever is truth is truth, if it is never accepted by any one. I -simply work out these results for my own satisfaction, and I like to -talk them over with you." - -Justin settled in his chair to listen. This new view of Clayton's -seemed strange, but it was sure to be presented in an interesting -manner. - -"I think I have made a startling discovery." Clayton's eyes shone and -his manner astonished Justin. "In the material world man is the -highest product of evolution, though he has not reached the highest -possible state. In the spiritual world, which must be more advanced, -the highest state has been reached, and he who has reached it we call -God. The one best fitted to reach it of all spiritual beings has -reached it, and has become absolute. Yet every spiritual being is -entitled to reach that state, if he is worthy, each in turn. Being -infinite, God could prevent that, and occupy the throne forever. The -common belief is that he does so occupy it. But, being just, as well -as infinite, he abdicates--suicides, if I may use the word without -irreverence--so that another spirit, becoming perfect through ages of -development, may take the throne; and when he does so we have what is -popularly conceived of as 'the end of the world'--the universe goes -back in the twinkling of an eye to fire-mist and chaos, and all -tilings begin over again. That is the great day of fire, when all -things are consumed; the day of which the Revelator wrote when he -said, 'And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled -together.'" - -There was something in Clayton's eyes which Justin had never seen -before, and which he did not like; it forced him to combat Clayton's -astonishing views. - -"But the logic of the situation compels that belief," Clayton -insisted. - -"Then I refuse to accept the premises." - -"But you can't!" His earnestness grew. "See here!" He read over some -of the things he had written. "It comes to that, and there is no way -of getting round it." - -"I get round it by refusing to believe any of it." - -"And Justin!" The dark eyes shone with a still brighter light. "I put -the question to you:--If God, the Infinite, may commit suicide for a -good reason, why may not a man? I put it to you." - -Seeing the black thought which lay back of these words Justin began to -reason with Clayton, combating the idea with all the vigor and -eloquence at his command, and years of training under Clayton had made -him a good reasoner. But he could not break the chain of false logic -which Clayton had forged, or at least he could not make Clayton see -that it was broken, though he talked long and earnestly. - -Justin passed an uneasy night, waking at intervals with a nervous -start, and listening for something, he hardly knew what. Once, hearing -Clayton stirring, he sat up in bed, shivering, ready to leap out and -force his way into Clayton's room, if it seemed necessary. He was -alarmed, and he thought he had ground for his alarm. The coming of -Sibyl to the valley he charged with being responsible for Clayton's -strange and changed manner. Sibyl's malevolent influence seemed to lie -over everything that came near her, like the blight of the fabled -upas. - -In the morning Clayton was very quiet, and even listless. He did not -recur to the talk of the previous evening, though Justin momentarily -expected him to, and was forging more arguments to combat this new and -distressing theory which had wormed its way into Clayton's troubled -mind. During the day, when there were so many things to hold his -attention, Clayton was not likely to give so much thought to Sibyl and -his new conclusions; he had a number of patients, including Davison, -who demanded his attention, and as a physician he threw himself into -his work without reserve or thought of himself. Therefore, Justin felt -easier when Clayton saddled his horse and rode away to visit a sick -man, who was one of the newer settlers in the valley. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -SIBYL AND CLAYTON - - -Returning that afternoon from a long and somewhat wearing journey, and -being distressed and troubled, Clayton encountered Sibyl, as he turned -into the Paradise trail. - -She was mounted on a spirited bay horse, which she had obtained in the -town, and was riding out to make a call on Mary Jasper. She drew her -horse in, when she beheld Clayton, and sat awaiting him. He would have -fled, when he saw her there, but that such an act savored of -ungallantry and cowardice. So he continued on until he reached her -side. She looked into his troubled face with a smile, pushing back her -veil with a jeweled white hand from which she had drawn the glove. He -had always admired the beauty of her hands. - -"I thought it was you," she said in her sweetest manner. "So I waited -for you to come up." - -"What are you doing here?" he demanded, hoarsely. - -"I have friends in the town, you know, and I came down to visit them; -just now I am on my way to call on Mary. But it's such a pleasure to -see you, Curtis, that if you don't object I'll ride with you a short -distance." - -The blood came into his face under that winning smile. He knew he -ought to hate this woman, and he had a sense of self-contempt when he -could not. - -"I thought yesterday of calling on you," she went on. - -"I'm glad you didn't," he contrived to say. - -"Now, don't be foolish and unreasonable, Curtis. I know what you've -thought, and all the horrid things that have been said about me since -Ben Davison's death, but they weren't true. It isn't any pleasanter -for me to be lied about and misunderstood than it is for you and -Justin. Mary's mind has been poisoned against me, but I'll make her -see even yet that I'm not the woman she thinks I am." - -He sat looking at her in hesitation, the strange light which Justin -had noticed again in his eyes; he hardly heard her words, but he could -not fail to hear the music of her voice. It had not lost its charm. - -"Good God, Sibyl," he burst out, "if you could only have been true to -me, and we could have lived happily together!" - -There was agony and yearning in his tone. - -"You have thought many foolish things, which you had no right to -think, just like other people. Shall we ride along? There is a good -path leading by those bushes." - -"Yes, the trail past the Black Canon." - -The fence hedging the mesa from the valley had been lately removed. He -turned his horse toward the path, and they rode along together. At -first he did not speak, but listened to her, with a glance at her now -and then as she sat, firmly erect and beautiful, on that handsome bay. -Her gray veil fluttered above her face. It was an attractive face, -even a beautiful one, after all the years, and the strain and turmoil -of them. There were a few fine hair-like wrinkles about the dark eyes, -but she knew how to conceal them. The rouge which Lemuel Fogg had -noticed in Denver was absent, or, having been deftly applied, was -unnoticed by Clayton. Her blue close-fitting riding habit, with a dash -of bright color at the throat, became her and heightened her charm. -And it was her beauty, unchanged, it seemed to him, which Clayton -devoured when he glanced at her; it was her beauty which had won his -boyish heart, and it had not lost its power. - -"Good God, Sibyl, if you could only have been true to me!" he -exclaimed again. - -She showed no irritation. - -"You have thought many things that weren't true; for you were never -willing to believe anything but the worst. This is a lovely country -here, isn't it? And that canon; it's a horrid-looking hole, but -fascinating." - -"As fascinating as sin, or a beautiful woman." - -She laughed lightly. - -"You always had a way of saying startling things. If you had set your -mind to it you might have been a great and successful flatterer." - -"I might have been many things, if other things had been different." - -"I suppose that is true of all of us. The trouble is that there seems -to be no forgiveness for mistakes." - -"What do you mean by that?" - -Her dark eyes looked into his. As they were withdrawn they took in -every detail of his face and figure. - -"I really didn't know you were so good looking, Curtis! You're really -stunning on a horse, in that dark suit and those tan riding boots. I -think you must have prospered down here?" - -"I have lived." - -"What I meant was that you never have been able to forgive any of my -mistakes." - -"Your sins, you mean." - -"Believing evil of me, you say sins. But I have been lied about, -Curtis, cruelly lied about; I'm not perfect, any more than you are, -but I'm not as bad as you think. You said a while ago, in one of your -dramatic ways, that if I could only have been true to you, and we -could have lived happily together! If I went wrong once, is that any -reason why I couldn't be true to you now?" - -His hand shook on the rein. - -"I don't believe you could be true to any man or any thing." - -"Now is that quite fair?" - -"Perhaps it is not quite fair, but you know I have had good cause for -saying it." - -"Judge me by the present, not by the past. Do as you would be done by. -That's been one of the tenets of your creed, I believe." - -"Judge you by the present?" - -"Yes; give me a chance to show that I can be true to you." - -"You mean live with me again as my wife?" - -"Why not?" - -Again her dark eyes were scanning his face and figure. Plimpton was -gone, Ben Davison was dead, and the years were passing. Even Mary had -deserted her. She had no money, and soon might not have even so much -as a shelter to which she could turn. Mary's desertion and loss of -faith in her had been the heaviest blow of all. It uprooted violently -a genuine affection. - -Sibyl Dudley, in spite of a brave outward show, was beginning to feel -the terrifying loneliness of isolation; the protection of even that -broken arm of Curtis Clayton, which she had scorned in other days, -would be a comfort now. She knew that he had never ceased to love her, -and she might win and hold him again. That would at least forefend the -terrors of poverty and loneliness which threatened her in the shadows -of the gathering years. - -Clayton did not reply to her question instantly. He looked off into -space with dark eyes that were troubled. Sibyl, glancing at him, saw -the stiff left arm swinging heavily, and thought of the flower in that -canon long ago and of the foolish girl who stood on the canon wall and -called to her devoted lover to get it for her. Afterward, that foolish -girl had trampled in the dust even the beautiful flower of his perfect -love. It began to seem that she would live to regret it, if she were -not regretting it already. The mills of the gods are still turned by -the river of Time, and they still grind exceeding fine. - -"If I could but trust you!" he said, after a while, with a sigh. - -They went on, past the granite wall of the canon, and out upon the -high mesa beyond. Behind them lay Paradise Valley, smiling in the -sunshine of the warm afternoon. Before them was a dust of moving -cattle. Harkness, having received his instructions from Justin, was -bunching the mesa herd, with the assistance of cowboys, preparatory to -cutting out the cattle that had been sold and driving them to the -station for shipment. - -"If I could but trust you!" Clayton repeated, when she made further -protest. "Perfect love casteth out fear, but I haven't that perfect -love any longer." - -He turned on her an anguished face. - -"Yet, even while I say that, I know that I have never stopped loving -you a single minute in all these years. Such love should have had a -better reward." - -"I was foolish, Curtis. And I have paid for my foolishness." - -The dark eyes turned to his were half veiled by the dark lashes, in -the old fascinating way. Cleopatra must have looked thus upon Antony. - -"For all the heart-ache I have caused you I beg forgiveness. Kindness -has always been your hobby, kindness to everything, even the dumb -brutes; and now I think you ought to be a little bit kind to me, when -I come to you and tell you that I am sorry for everything, for all -that has been and all that you have believed." - -"I forgive you," he said, breathing hard. "I forgave you from the -first." - -"But I want your love again. It isn't often that a woman comes to a -man begging in this way." - -"You have always had my love, and you have it now; I never loved any -one else. I have never looked on any woman with thought of love since -I left you and came to this valley." - -The dust cloud had thickened, and from the mesa before them came -shouts and confused cries. Then from the right, out of the deep -trough-like depression which the cowboys called "the draw," there -heaved suddenly a line of moving backs and clicking horns. - -Sibyl was putting on the glove she had carried in her jeweled hand and -was arranging her veil. She had kept the hand ungloved that its beauty -might be displayed, but had begun to feel that both face and hand -needed protection from the hot sunshine. Clayton drew rein, when that -heaving line rose before him, apparently out of the earth. Until then -he had forgotten where he was, had forgotten everything but the woman -beside him. - -Sibyl's face whitened when she saw those tossing horns; and the veil, -escaping in her agitation, was blown toward the cattle. Startled by -having come so suddenly on these riders, the cattle were halting in -confusion. The fluttering veil, whirled into their midst by the wind, -completed the work of fear. - -The rustle of a leaf as it scrapes and bobs over the ground, a flash -of sunlight from a bit of broken glass, the scampering of a coyote to -his covert, or the tumbling to earth of an unhorsed cowboy, will -sometimes throw a moving herd into a panic of fright and bring on a -wild stampede, though at other times all these things combined would -not have the slightest effect. The reason must be sought in the -psychology of fear. - -The cattle in front whirled to race away from that fluttering object -of terror, while those behind crowded them on. In the midst of the -confusion, the larger herd plunged into view out of the dust cloud, -hurried along by the cowboys. A quiver of fright ran through the -entire heaving mass, and in an instant the stampede madness was born. - -"We must get out of this!" Clayton shifted the reins to his stiff left -hand and turned her horse about. "You used to be a good horsewoman, -and we may have to do some sharp riding." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE RIDE WITH DEATH - - - "So steady and firm, leaning low to the mane, - With the heel to the flank and the hand to the rein, - Rode we on; - Reaching low, breathing loud, as a creviced wind blows; - Yet we spoke not a whisper, we breathed not a prayer; - There was work to be done, there was death in the air; - And the chance was as one to a thousand." - -Sibyl had buttoned her glove, and she now took the rein herself and -settled firmly in the saddle. - -"Do you think there is danger? How horrid to have a thing like this -happen and spoil our ride!" - -To her unpracticed eyes the appearance of the moiling herd was not as -threatening as at first. The cattle in front were pushing into those -behind and staying their forward progress. Farther back, where the -stampede madness was doing its deadliest work, she could not see, for -the cattle there were hidden by the dust cloud. - -"We must get out of this," said Clayton, in a nervous voice, as he set -his horse in motion. "Unless we ride fast they may cut us off at the -lower end of the canon." - -The forward line of moving cattle was hurled on again, as the receding -wave is caught by the one behind it and flung against the shore. The -thunder of pounding hoofs rose like the lashing of surf on a rocky -coast. Then that long line, flashing out of the dust, deepened -backward beneath the lifting cloud until it resembled a stretch of -tossing sea. The resemblance was more than fanciful. The irregular -heaving motion of a choppy sea was there, the white glint of horns was -as the shine of wave crests, the tumultuous roar rose and fell like -the thunder of billows, and the dust cloud hovered like thick mist. - -Clayton and Sibyl were galloping at a swift pace. Terror clutched at -her heart now and shone in her dark eyes. She heard the mad roar -behind her, and dared not look back. Clayton looked back, and his face -became set and white. - -"A little faster," he begged, when he had thus glanced behind. - -He struck her horse with his hand to urge it on, while his heels -flailed the sides of his own beast. Her ribboned whip lifted and fell, -and she cried out to her horse in fear. The whole herd was in motion. - -It was crescent-shaped; widest in its center, like the horned moon; -one end rested, or rather moved, on the canon's rim; the other, out on -the flat mesa, was swinging in toward the canon, farther down. It was -this lower point of the crescented herd that Clayton feared most; the -great moon-shaped mass was crumpling together, its ends were -converging, and if that lower point reached the canon before the -riders could pass through the gap which now beckoned there, they would -be caught in the loop of the crumpled crescent and crushed to death or -hurled into the canon. The only hope lay in passing through that -opening while it still remained an opening. And toward that gap they -were riding, with a portion of the herd thundering behind along the -canon wall. - -"We can make it," Clayton cried hopefully; "we can make it!" - -And he urged the horses on. - -Though the words encouraged her, Sibyl could not fail to perceive the -deadly peril of the closing gap toward which they were speeding. - -Fortunately the ground was level, broken only by grassy hillocks and -bunches of sage. The few obstructing plum bushes that had survived the -fire or had sprouted since that time had been passed already. - -As the cattle at the lower end of the crescent were thus brought near, -Sibyl beheld the flecking spume of their foaming mouths as it was -flung into the air and glistened on their heads and bodies. She could -even see the insane glare of their eyes, as they drove toward her in -their unheeding course. The thunder of their hoofs was making the -ground shake. - -"Ride, ride!" Clayton shouted, his voice tremulous. "We can get -through. We must get through!" - -Even the horses seemed to know what threatened now. Leaping into the -narrowing gap, they answered this last appeal of heel, whip, and voice -with a further increase of speed. Clayton bent forward in his saddle -as if he would hurl himself on, and in the extremity of his anxiety -reached out his stiff hand toward Sibyl's bridle to urge her horse to -even a swifter pace. - -They were riding dangerously near the canon wall. Hidden as the canon -was by tall grass, the cattle were driving straight toward it, as -though determined to hurl themselves and these wild riders into its -depths. - -And now the heaving backs, the tapering horns, the glaring eyes, the -shining gossamer threads of wispy spume, and the tortured dust cloud, -seemed to be flung together into the very faces of the riders. For a -moment Sibyl thought all was lost; in imagination she was being -impaled on those tapering horns. She heard Clayton yelling -encouragement. Then, with spurning feet, the horses passed through the -narrow passage; and behind them broke a bellowing tumult, as the -foremost cattle began to plunge downward into the canon. - -Sibyl reeled in her saddle, and Clayton put out his stiff hand to -support her. - -Behind them was that wild roar, where the living cascade was pouring -over the canon wall; and the danger was behind them, and past, he -thought. - -[Illustration: "Behind them broke a bellowing tumult, as the foremost -cattle began to plunge downward into the canon"] - -But suddenly the shooting torrent of bellowing animals was stopped. -The portion of the herd which had followed madly after the fleeing -riders along the wall, and had been augmented greatly in numbers, -struck this lower line. It was like the impact of two cross sections -of a landslide. The weaker gave way, over-borne and crushed; and the -larger herd streamed on, over a tangle of fallen bodies, adding to the -tangled pile and treading each other down in wild confusion. The -danger was not past. - -Clayton's stiff hand settled Sibyl's reeling form in the saddle. He -was shaking with the strain of his exertions and his emotions. His -face was set like a mask and his dark eyes glittered feverishly. - -"We must ride on!" he urged. "Just a little farther! I'll help you, -but we must ride on!" - -Returning fear put strength into her quivering body. She sat erect -once more, and again plied the ribboned whip. The horses, with sides -smoking and flanks heaving, galloped on. They had made a terrible run, -as their dripping bodies and straining red nostrils showed, but they -were still game, and they responded to this new call as nobly as to -the first. - -The section of the herd that had overwhelmed and trampled under foot -the cattle in its way, came straight on, now and then tossing an -unfortunate into the canon as a splinter is flung out from a revolving -and broken wheel. But the speedier horses drew away again. - -While hope was thus returning to Sibyl her horse went down, having -thrust a foot into a grass-grown badger hole, and she was torn from -the saddle and hurled violently through the air. She struck heavily -and lay stunned. Clayton was off his horse and at her side in an -instant, but had caution enough left to cling to his bridle rein. -Sibyl lay groaning; but when he put his strong sound arm about her, -she rose to her feet. Blood showed on her lips. - -"It's nothing," she said, as he wiped it away with his handkerchief. -"I--I think I have only cut my lip." The thunder of the approaching -hoofs frightened her. "Can you help me into the saddle?" - -She clung to him weakly. - -"Yes," he answered, supporting her. - -But when they turned to her horse he saw that in its fall it had -broken its leg. It stood helplessly by the badger hole, from which it -had scrambled, holding up that dangling leg. - -"You must take my horse!" he said. - -"And leave you here?" - -"I--I can outrun them, maybe; if I had a revolver I might stop the -foremost and get ground to stand on." - -She put her hand to her bosom and drew out a small revolver. - -"It may be foolish for a woman to carry such a weapon, but it will be -useful now." - -It was but a little thing, a woman's toy, yet he took it eagerly. - -"I can turn them aside with this; you must take my horse at once." - -He lifted her in his arms and placed her in his saddle. She did not -stop for conventionalities, but set a foot in each stirrup. - -"You can make it yet!" he panted. "Go; don't think of me; I will stop -them here!" - -He knew he could neither stop them nor turn them aside. She did not -want to leave him, but fear tore at her heart; the herd was on them -again, though the halt had been so brief. - -"Go!" he yelled, and struck the horse with the shining revolver. - -Its quick leap almost threw her, but she clutched the horn of the -saddle and raced on. - -Clayton turned to face the mad stampede. That line of tossing heads -and clicking horns was not a hundred yards away. He looked at the -little revolver and smiled. The strange light which had so startled -Justin was again in his eyes. - -"I will not leave you to be trodden to death by them, old fellow," he -said to the horse; "you deserve a better fate than that." - -With the words, he put the pistol to the head of the trembling horse -and fired. It was but a small pellet of lead, but it went true, and -the horse fell. He stepped up to its body and sent the second shot at -the leading steer. He glanced at the sky an instant, then at Sibyl -fleeing away along the canon wall in the direction of the distant -ranch buildings. The strange light deepened in his eyes. - -"I have saved her," he whispered; "and even God can die, when the -reason is great enough!" - -Sibyl did not hear those shots in the confusion that clamored behind -her, and she had not courage to look back. Having lost her ribboned -whip in the fall, she beat the horse with her gloved hand. A numbing -pain gripped her heart and made her breathing quick and heavy. At -times her sight blurred, and then fear smote hardest, for she felt -that she was falling. Yet she rode on, reeling in the deep saddle, and -when faint maintained her position by clinging to the saddle horn. At -the door of the ranch house she fell forward on the neck of the horse -and slipped in a limp heap to the ground; but she was up again, with -hand pressed to her heart, when Pearl Harkness dashed out to assist -her. - -Behind Pearl came Lucy Davison and Mary Jasper. They had heard the -thundering of hoofs, and but a minute before had seen Sibyl ride into -view at that mad pace from behind the screening stables. She had -outridden the stampeded cattle. The curving canon wall had turned them -at last, and they were beginning to mill. - -There was blood on Sibyl's lips and a look of death in her ghastly -face; yet she smiled, and tried to stand more erect, when she saw -Mary. - -"Help me into the house, please," she whispered faintly; "I--I'm -afraid I'm hurt." - -Supported by Pearl on one side and by Lucy and Mary on the other, -Sibyl entered the house. Inside the doorway she reeled and put her -hand to her eyes. She stiffened with a shudder, as she recovered. - -"I must lie down!" she gasped; but when she took another step the -blindness and faintness returned, and she fell, in spite of the -supporting arms. - -Pearl's cry of alarm and consternation reached the room where Philip -Davison lay. It was a lower room and furthest removed from the mesa, -but he had heard the rumble of the stampede. The sound of excited -voices, Sibyl's heavy fall, and that outcry from Pearl Harkness, -called back the wasted strength to his weakened body. He appeared in -the connecting doorway, half dressed, and with a blanket drawn round -his shrunken shoulders. He looked a spectre and not a man; his bearded -cheeks were hollowed, his straight nose appeared to crook over the -sunken mouth like the beak of a bird, and his blue eyes, gleaming from -cavernous sockets, stared with unnatural brightness. Seeing Sibyl on -the floor with the frightened women about her, he came forward and -offered to help. Nothing could have astounded them more than this, for -they thought he had not strength to walk. - -"Put her in the bed there," he commanded, indicating an adjoining -room. - -He stooped to assist in lifting her; but the faintness was passing, -and she showed that she was still able to assist herself. - -"Yes, put me in the bed," she panted. - -They helped her to the bed, Davison following with tottering steps, -trying to aid. Mary shook the pillow into shape and placed it under -her head. Sibyl observed her and put up her gloved hand to touch -Mary's hair. - -"You are here, dear; I--I am so glad!" - -"Where is Clayton?" said Davison, turning about. "He is needed." - -A cowboy came running into the house to report the stampede of the -cattle. - -"Let them go," Davison cried; "you ride at once for Doctor Clayton. -Tell him to come immediately." - -Pearl Harkness had hurried into the kitchen, thinking of hot-water -bags. Mary stared into Sibyl's face and inanely patted the pillow -tucked under her head. Lucy was wiping away the blood that oozed from -between Sibyl's lips. - -"Come nearer, dear," said Sibyl in a weak voice, speaking to Mary. -"Come nearer, dear; I want you to kiss me and forgive me. I--I--" - -Her ghastly features became more pinched and ghastly; her hand wavered -toward Mary's face. Mary took it and placed it against her warm, -tear-wet cheek, in the old way. - -Sibyl stared at her. - -"I--I can't see you, dear; but you have hold of my hand. The room must -be growing dark, or--or is it my eyes? The windows haven't been -closed, have they?" - -"The windows are open," said Mary; "wide open." - -Sibyl still stared at her, while Pearl bustled into the room with -cloths and a water bottle. - -"It--it is growing dark to me. I'm dying, and I know it. My--my horse -fell, and--and Clayton was with me; he is out there yet--where--where -the cattle are." - -She made another effort to see. - -"Hold--hold my hand tight, Mary; and--and please kiss me, won't you? -Hold my hand tight! I loved you, Mary--I loved you! Oh, I can't see -you--I can't see you at all! Kiss me, and forgive me. I don't want to -go into the dark! I always loved the light--the light!" - -As Mary stooped with that forgiving kiss, Sibyl touched her hair with -affection. - -"I forgive you everything," said Mary. - -"You won't believe that I truly loved you, Mary, but I did; always -remember that I did. Oh, I want the light--the light--I can't see you! -I'm afraid there isn't any light--beyond! I could bear the fires of -hell if they but gave light and I could live on. But I'm -afraid--afraid, Mary, that--that there isn't anything beyond; and that -I shall never see you again!" - -She put up her hands, gasping for breath. - -"I've been a wicked woman, but I loved you, Mary; oh, I loved you; and -I tried to shield you all I could! I oughtn't to have taken you to -Denver, but I wanted you, and I was selfish. Oh, this darkness! Open -the windows; I'm--I'm afraid of the darkness! Open the--windows; I -must--must have light!" - -But the light did not return. - -Clayton's body, mangled beyond recognition, was found near that of the -horse he had mercifully slain. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -RECONCILIATION - - -Philip Davison had an accession of strength after that and sat at his -desk through the whole of one afternoon, thinking and writing. When -Justin made his customary call in the morning and was about to turn -away, Davison bade him stay. - -"You will find some papers in the upper right hand drawer of my desk, -Justin. Get them and bring them to me." - -Justin found the papers and handed them to him. - -"Now, sit down by the bed again." - -Justin took the chair, and looked at his father, who reclined in the -bed propped with pillows. Davison had changed greatly. His hair and -beard were almost white and his blue eyes gleamed from deep sockets. -There was something pathetic in the contrast between the emaciated, -trembling father and the robust, stalwart son. Justin pitied him. - -"There are some things I want to talk to you about, Justin." His hands -trembled so much that the papers rattled as he unfolded them. "I am -not able to attend to business now, and may never be able. Fogg will -be here to-morrow, and there are some things I want to talk over with -you before he comes. He is anxious to sell out to that man from the -East. He thinks the chance is one not to be lost." - -It was the first time that Davison had offered to consult with Justin -on any subject, or had spoken to him in this manner. Justin drew his -chair closer to the bed. - -"If I can help you in any way." - -"I've got to have your help, I suppose," said Davison, with a touch of -his old petulance. "When a man is wrecked he clutches at--well, we -won't talk about that! We'll have to agree to let bygones be bygones. -I don't want to hurt your feelings, and I want to do right by you." - -He put down the papers, which he had been about to read. - -"By the way, Justin, I've been thinking a good deal about you and -Lucy. You and she are still in the notion of marrying, I suppose?" - -His voice was kindly now, and it softened still more as he beheld the -hurt expression on his son's flushed face. - -"Forget what I said just now, and I'll try to be more considerate. -This has been a terrible thing for me; how terrible I don't think you -can ever realize. I had made Ben my idol. It was foolish, of course, -but in this world men do foolish things; I have done my full share of -them. So if there is anything to be forgiven by any one I am the one -to do the forgiving." - -His hands shook again on the papers and tears came into the sunken -eyes. - -"I have forgiven Ben everything. I think he was not so much to blame -after all. I was wild, too, in my youth; and, forgetting that, I did -not bring him up right. If he had lived; that is, if----" The tears -overflowed on his cheeks, and he stopped. "But we won't talk about -that. I wish I could forget it." - -He folded the papers and spread them out again, while he sought to -gain control of his voice. - -"If you and Lucy are still in the notion of getting married, you have -my full consent to do so. You are my son, and I shall treat you as a -son should be treated; and she is my adopted daughter. So, whatever I -have is yours and hers, when I am gone." - -"You will get well!" said Justin, earnestly and with feeling. - -"Yes, I believe so!" There was a touch of the old fire now. "I think I -shall get well. I have improved lately. My head doesn't trouble me so -much, for one thing. It has cleared so that I was able to do a good -deal of writing yesterday. I shall get well, but I know I shall never -be the same; I shall never be able to take the interest in business -matters that I did. I don't seem to care what goes on in the valley -and on the ranch now. Even the loss of those cattle didn't touch me. -Once I should have felt it, just as Fogg did." - -"Lucy will be very glad to know that we have your full consent to our -marriage," Justin ventured. - -"Of course she will; and you, too. It will even please me to have you -married as soon as possible. You may live in any of the houses we have -bought that will suit you, or a new one can be built." - -He took up the papers again. - -"I shall turn the management of the place over to you until I am able -to manage it myself. You can consult with Fogg, and I will give you -what instructions I can. I hope to be strong enough in another month -to ride about, and then I can assist you even more. Fogg thinks it -would be well to sell our canal interests and a part of our land to -this Eastern man. I agree with him. I think we ought to hold a good -deal of the valley land; it's going to be valuable, when that tunnel -is cut. That man will bring in a colony of farmers and gardeners; a -good many people can live here, with the aid of the irrigation that -can be had from the Warrior River. I want to stay here, in spite of -what has happened; and you and Lucy will want to stay here. There -isn't a prettier valley in the state, and it's our home; and the sale -of a part of our land, with the cultivation of the rest of it, and the -increase in values, will make us independent." - -He began to read from the papers. To Justin's surprise they held a -list of names of men Davison had wronged and to whom he wished now to -make restitution. - -"I was over-persuaded in a good many things, and often went with Fogg -against my better judgment. But I haven't anything to say against him. -Whatever I did I am willing to shoulder. He is a first-class business -man; I admire his ability to make money, and I wanted money, for Ben. -These things I have marked here I desire made right, so far as they -can be made right. I don't want you to give away money to anybody. -Money isn't to be shaken out of every tree, except by a man like Fogg. -Pay whatever is just, but no more. The names are here, and the -amounts. I have been generous in the estimates, and you will have no -call to go farther than I have." - -He put the papers in Justin's hands. - -"There; I turn this business, and all the rest of my business, over to -you! And you and Lucy may get married as soon as you like. Consult -with Fogg concerning the land to be sold." - -The blue eyes smiled from the deep sockets, and the face was softer -and more kindly. Already Davison had a higher and more satisfactory -opinion of himself. - -"You are my son, Justin. I have no other son now; and we will try to -be to each other what we ought to have been all these years." - -"Father!" - -Justin's voice trembled; and though when he stood erect he towered -above other men, he humbled himself now as a child, and laid his first -kiss of love on his father's wasted cheek. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE DREAMS THAT CAME TRUE - - -The colony from the East had been established, and the harnessed water -was doing the will of man. At the head of the valley, where the -cultivated fields began to widen into a green expanse of gardens and -small farms, Steve Harkness stopped his buggy in the trail and awaited -the coming of another buggy he had seen issue from the town. With -Harkness sat Pearl and Helen, the latter a slender, awkward girl now, -but in the eyes of her father beautiful beyond the power of words to -express. The three were dressed in their best--they had been attending -church. Harkness shook out his handkerchief to wipe his perspiring -face--church services always made him perspire freely--and the scent -of cinnamon drops thickened the air. - -"It's Justin and Lucy coming," said Pearl. - -"Yes, I knowed it was; that's why I pulled in. I don't reckon a -handsomer couple rides this valley trail, present company always -accepted. Davison was with 'em at church, but I s'pose he stopped in -town to take dinner with some one." - -Harkness tucked his handkerchief into his pocket and looked down the -valley, where the fruitful fields were smiling. In the midst of the -fields and the gardens were many houses and clumps of shade trees. The -flat-topped mountain behind the town lay against the bosom of the -summer sky like a great cameo. A Sabbath peace was on the land, and a -great peace was in the heart of Steve Harkness. - -"It's nice to have a home," he declared thoughtfully, as he looked at -the quiet valley, "and it's nice to see other people have homes. But -until a man is married and has one of his own he don't know how 'tis." - -Pearl glanced down at her dress of China silk and settled its folds -comfortably and proudly about her. - -"I think farming is better than the cattle business, anyway." - -"Yes, farmin' this way, with irrigation; irrigation with plenty of -water beats rainfall in any country under the sun. I'm satisfied. But -you don't never hear me saying anything ag'inst the cattle business; -it's all right, and it will continue in this country fer a good many -years yit. But Paradise Valley was cut out fer farmers and their -homes. I'm always reckonin' that the Lord understood his business when -he made men and land and cattle. The valleys that can be irrigated fer -the farmers, and the high dry land that can't be fer the men that want -to raise cattle. And things will always come out right, if you'll only -give 'em time. It's been proved right here." - -When, after pleasant greetings, Harkness had driven on, Justin, who -did not care to proceed straight home on that beautiful day, turned -into the trail that led to the higher land on the edge of the mesa, -where the view of the valley was better. Coming out upon the highest -point, they saw the valley spread wide before them, green as an -emerald. The few groves were many times multiplied. On every hand were -homes, girt by gardens and embowered in flowers. Irrigating canals and -laterals glittered like threads of silver. Warrior River, uniting with -Paradise Creek, had furnished means for the transformation of the -desert, and it was literally blossoming as the rose. - -Thus surveying the valley, Justin saw the fulfillment of the dream of -the dreamer, Peter Wingate. More, he had the satisfaction of knowing -that in the position he held, that of superintendent and manager of -the irrigating company, he had done his full share in bringing that -dream to its beautiful realization. He had helped to make the one-time -desert bloom. Years had run their course, yet the dream had come true. -He had prospered also, not only financially, but in other ways; he was -in the state senate now, the position Fogg had held. And, though he -was a farmer and irrigator, he was, also, a ranchman. - -As he sat thus viewing the smiling valley, with his wife beside him, -seeing there the fulfillment of the dream of the preacher, Justin -turned to her whom he loved best of all in the world. Looking into her -eyes, where wifely love had established itself, he beheld there the -fulfillment of another dream; and beholding it, he bent his head and -kissed her. - -"Lucy," he said, with tender earnestness, "this, too, is Paradise." - - - - -By the Author of "The Rainbow Chasers" - -BARBARA, A WOMAN OF THE WEST - -By JOHN H. WHITSON - -Illustrated by C. C. Emerson. 12mo. $1.50 - -Third Edition - -Barbara, the heroine of Mr. Whitson's first Western novel, is the -loyal wife of a self-centred man of literary tastes, living on a ranch -in Kansas. "Barbara is a fresh, breezy sort of a girl; and the account -of her life and ultimate happiness, as described by Mr. Whitson, makes -one of the best stories of the season," says the St. Paul Globe. - -"We are carried from one scene to another with an ease and -expeditiousness that plainly betokens the author's familiarity with -the length and breadth of the Western country, and the people he so -vividly portrays," says the San Francisco News-Letter. - -Hon. John D. Long, ex-Secretary of the Navy, in a letter to the -author, says: "You have the story-teller's art. I like especially -those portions of the book which treat of Western scenes and -life--the homestead, the plain, the prairie, the pioneer's experience, -the mining camp, Cripple Creek, and Pike's Peak. 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The male -characters are vigorous men, with red blood in their veins; and the -heroine, Elinor Spencer, is a high-spirited but lovable Western girl. - -The Brooklyn Eagle says:-- - -"It is a picturesque narrative, striking in its portrayal of -conditions that have vanished. It is one of those works of fiction -which, like 'The Virginian,' deserve to rank as books of social and -economic history, because of the picturing of conditions, vital while -they existed, that have passed away." - -With 6 illustrations by Arthur E. Becher. 393 pages. - -12 mo. Decorated cloth, $1.50 - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers, BOSTON - -At all Booksellers - - - - -"A Spell-binding Creation"--Lilian Whiling - -MYSTERIOUS MR. SABIN - -By E. 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He whose pulses are not -quickened by the tale must be jaded and phlegmatic indeed.--Chicago -Record-Herald. - -For a good, grippy story, it is the best of the present season's -output.--Cleveland Leader. - -Mr. Oppenheim possesses the magic art of narration.--New York Herald. - -If we forget all else in the story, we will remember Mr. Sabin, and -freely account him a man of mark among the thronging characters of -latter-day literature.--Boston Courier. - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers, BOSTON - -At all Booksellers - - - - -A Powerful American Novel - -THE VISION OF ELIJAH BERL - -By FRANK LEWIS NASON - -Author of "The Blue Goose" and "To the End of the Trail" - -12mo. Decorated cloth. $1.50 - -Mr. Nason's new novel deals with the beginnings of orange growing in -California by irrigation. Elijah Berl, a New Englander, emigrates to -California, and dreams of the time when the barren region in which he -has settled shall "blossom as the rose." Engineering ambitions, the -formation of a company for the development of the orange industry, the -building of an irrigation dam, and the collapse of a land boom, -furnish the author material for a well-constructed plot. - - -A Story of Adventure, Intrigue, and Love - -A PRINCE OF LOVERS - -By SIR WILLIAM MAGNAY - -Author of "The Red Chancellor," etc. - -Illustrated by Cyrus Cuneo. 12mo. $1.50 - -In this new novel by Sir William Magnay, the heroine, "Princess -Ruperta," a princess of the blood royal, sick of the monotony and -unreality of Court, goes out one night, incognito, with her maid. -Danger unexpectedly threatens her, and when she is gallantly rescued -from this danger by a young and handsome stranger, it is not unnatural -that (betrothed compulsorily as she is for State reasons to a royal -person whom she has never seen) love is born in the heart of the -Princess as well as in that of her unknown rescuer. Then follows a -series of adventures brilliantly imagined and enthrallingly told. - -LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers - -BOSTON, MASS. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Justin Wingate, Ranchman, by John H. Whitson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUSTIN WINGATE, RANCHMAN *** - -***** This file should be named 42423.txt or 42423.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/4/2/42423/ - -Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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