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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..47f3473 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62409 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62409) diff --git a/old/62409-0.txt b/old/62409-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index eac3c46..0000000 --- a/old/62409-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12325 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Girl from Hollywood, by Edgar Rice Burroughs - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: The Girl from Hollywood - -Author: Edgar Rice Burroughs - -Release Date: June 15, 2020 [EBook #62409] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD *** - - - - -Produced by Tim Lindell, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from images made available by the -HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - - -Table of Contents added by Transcriber and placed in the Public Domain. - - - - -THE GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD - - - - -[Illustration: The director’s eyes snapped.... “Only a camera man and -myself are here,” he said] - - - - - THE - GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD - - - BY - EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS - AUTHOR OF “TARZON OF THE APES,” “THE - RETURN OF TARZON,” ETC. - - - FRONTISPIECE BY - P. J. MONAHAN - - - NEW YORK - THE MACAULAY COMPANY - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1923, - BY EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS - - -PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I 1 - II 9 - III 16 - IV 21 - V 32 - VI 46 - VII 54 - VIII 58 - IX 63 - X 70 - XI 79 - XII 88 - XIII 96 - XIV 103 - XV 115 - XVI 129 - XVII 145 - XVIII 151 - XIX 164 - XX 168 - XXI 180 - XXII 189 - XXIII 195 - XXIV 204 - XXV 211 - XXVI 218 - XXVII 226 - XXVIII 236 - XXIX 244 - XXX 249 - XXXI 254 - XXXII 264 - XXXIII 275 - XXXIV 283 - XXXV 293 - XXXVI 304 - XXXVII 308 - - - - -THE GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -The two horses picked their way carefully downward over the loose -shale of the steep hillside. The big bay stallion in the lead sidled -mincingly, tossing his head nervously, and flecking the flannel shirt -of his rider with foam. Behind the man on the stallion a girl rode a -clean-limbed bay of lighter color, whose method of descent, while less -showy, was safer, for he came more slowly, and in the very bad places -he braced his four feet forward and slid down, sometimes almost sitting -upon the ground. - -At the base of the hill there was a narrow level strip; then an -eight-foot wash, with steep banks, barred the way to the opposite side -of the cañon, which rose gently to the hills beyond. At the foot of -the descent the man reined in and waited until the girl was safely -down; then he wheeled his mount and trotted toward the wash. Twenty -feet from it he gave the animal its head and a word. The horse broke -into a gallop, took off at the edge of the wash, and cleared it so -effortlessly as almost to give the impression of flying. - -Behind the man came the girl, but her horse came at the wash with a -rush--not the slow, steady gallop of the stallion--and at the very -brink he stopped to gather himself. The dry bank caved beneath his -front feet, and into the wash he went, head first. - -The man turned and spurred back. The girl looked up from her saddle, -making a wry face. - -“No damage?” he asked, an expression of concern upon his face. - -“No damage,” the girl replied. “Senator is clumsy enough at jumping, -but no matter what happens he always lights on his feet.” - -“Ride down a bit,” said the man. “There’s an easy way out just below.” - -She moved off in the direction he indicated, her horse picking his way -among the loose bowlders in the wash bottom. - -“Mother says he’s part cat,” she remarked. “I wish he could jump like -the Apache!” - -The man stroked the glossy neck of his own mount. - -“He never will,” he said. “He’s afraid. The Apache is absolutely -fearless; he’d go anywhere I’d ride him. He’s been mired with me twice, -but he never refuses a wet spot; and that’s a test, I say, of a horse’s -courage.” - -They had reached a place where the bank was broken down, and the girl’s -horse scrambled from the wash. - -“Maybe he’s like his rider,” suggested the girl, looking at the Apache; -“brave, but reckless.” - -“It was worse than reckless,” said the man. “It was asinine. I -shouldn’t have led you over the jump when I know how badly Senator -jumps.” - -“And you wouldn’t have, Custer”--she hesitated--“if----” - -“If I hadn’t been drinking,” he finished for her. “I know what you were -going to say, Grace; but I think you’re wrong. I never drink enough to -show it. No one ever saw me that way--not so that it was noticeable.” - -“It is always noticeable to me and to your mother,” she corrected him -gently. “We always know it, Custer. It shows in little things like what -you did just now. Oh, it isn’t anything, I know, dear; but we who love -you wish you didn’t do it quite so often.” - -“It’s funny,” he said, “but I never cared for it until it became a -risky thing to get it. Oh, well, what’s the use? I’ll quit it if you -say so. It hasn’t any hold on me.” - -Involuntarily he squared his shoulders--an unconscious tribute to the -strength of his weakness. - -Together, their stirrups touching, they rode slowly down the cañon -trail toward the ranch. Often they rode thus, in the restful silence -that is a birthright of comradeship. Neither spoke until after they -reined in their sweating horses beneath the cool shade of the spreading -sycamore that guards the junction of El Camino Largo and the main trail -that winds up Sycamore Cañon. - -It was the first day of early spring. The rains were over. The -California hills were green and purple and gold. The new leaves lay -softly fresh on the gaunt boughs of yesterday. A blue jay scolded from -a clump of sumac across the trail. - -The girl pointed up into the cloudless sky, where several great birds -circled majestically, rising and falling upon motionless wings. - -“The vultures are back,” she said. “I am always glad to see them come -again.” - -“Yes,” said the man. “They are bully scavengers, and we don’t have to -pay ’em wages.” - -The girl smiled up at him. - -“I’m afraid my thoughts were more poetic than practical,” she said. “I -was only thinking that the sky looked less lonely now that they have -come. Why suggest their diet?” - -“I know what you mean,” he said. “I like them, too. Maligned as they -are, they are really wonderful birds, and sort of mysterious. Did -you ever stop to think that you never see a very young one or a dead -one? Where do they die? Where do they grow to maturity? I wonder what -they’ve found up there! Let’s ride up. Martin said he saw a new calf up -beyond Jackknife Cañon yesterday. That would be just about under where -they’re circling now.” - -They guided their horses around a large, flat slab of rock that some -camper had contrived into a table beneath the sycamore, and started -across the trail toward the opposite side of the cañon. They were in -the middle of the trail when the man drew in and listened. - -“Some one is coming,” he said. “Let’s wait and see who it is. I haven’t -sent any one back into the hills to-day.” - -“I have an idea,” remarked the girl, “that there is more going on up -there”--she nodded toward the mountains stretching to the south of -them--“than you know about.” - -“How is that?” he asked. - -“So often recently we have heard horsemen passing the ranch late at -night. If they weren’t going to stop at your place, those who rode up -the trail must have been headed into the high hills; but I’m sure that -those whom we heard coming down weren’t coming from the Rancho del -Ganado.” - -“No,” he said, “not late at night--or not often, at any rate.” - -The footsteps of a cantering horse drew rapidly closer, and presently -the animal and its rider came into view around a turn in the trail. - -“It’s only Allen,” said the girl. - -The newcomer reined in at sight of the man and the girl. He was -evidently surprised, and the girl thought that he seemed ill at ease. - -“Just givin’ Baldy a work-out,” he explained. “He ain’t been out for -three or four days, an’ you told me to work ’em out if I had time.” - -Custer Pennington nodded. - -“See any stock back there?” - -“No. How’s the Apache to-day--forgin’ as bad as usual?” - -Pennington shook his head negatively. - -“That fellow shod him yesterday just the way I want him shod. I wish -you’d take a good look at his shoes, Slick, so you can see that he’s -always shod this same way.” His eyes had been traveling over Slick’s -mount, whose heaving sides were covered with lather. “Baldy’s pretty -soft, Slick; I wouldn’t work him too hard all at once. Get him up to it -gradually.” - -He turned and rode off with the girl at his side. Slick Allen looked -after them for a moment, and then moved his horse off at a slow walk -toward the ranch. He was a lean, sinewy man, of medium height. He might -have been a cavalryman once. He sat his horse, even at a walk, like -one who has sweated and bled under a drill sergeant in the days of his -youth. - -“How do you like him?” the girl asked of Pennington. - -“He’s a good horseman, and good horsemen are getting rare these days,” -replied Pennington; “but I don’t know that I’d choose him for a -playmate. Don’t you like him?” - -“I’m afraid I don’t. His eyes give me the creeps--they’re like a -fish’s.” - -“To tell the truth, Grace, I don’t like him,” said Custer. “He’s one of -those rare birds--a good horseman who doesn’t love horses. I imagine he -won’t last long on the Rancho del Ganado; but we’ve got to give him a -fair shake--he’s only been with us a few weeks.” - -They were picking their way toward the summit of a steep hogback. The -man, who led, was seeking carefully for the safest footing, shamed out -of his recent recklessness by the thought of how close the girl had -come to a serious accident through his thoughtlessness. They rode along -the hogback until they could look down into a tiny basin where a small -bunch of cattle was grazing, and then, turning and dipping over the -edge, they dropped slowly toward the animals. - -Near the bottom of the slope they came upon a white-faced bull standing -beneath the spreading shade of a live oak. He turned his woolly face -toward them, his red-rimmed eyes observing them dispassionately for -a moment. Then he turned away again and resumed his cud, disdaining -further notice of them. - -“That’s the King of Ganado, isn’t it?” asked the girl. - -“Looks like him, doesn’t he? But he isn’t. He’s the King’s likeliest -son, and unless I’m mistaken he’s going to give the old fellow a -mighty tough time of it this fall, if the old boy wants to hang on to -the grand championship. We’ve never shown him yet. It’s an idea of -father’s. He’s always wanted to spring a new champion at a great show -and surprise the world. He’s kept this fellow hidden away ever since he -gave the first indication that he was going to be a fine bull. At least -a hundred breeders have visited the herd in the past year, and not one -of them has seen him. Father says he’s the greatest bull that ever -lived, and that his first show is going to be the International.” - -“I just know he’ll win,” exclaimed the girl. “Why look at him! Isn’t he -a beauty?” - -“Got a back like a billiard table,” commented Custer proudly. - -They rode down among the heifers. There were a dozen -beauties--three-year-olds. Hidden to one side, behind a small bush, the -man’s quick eyes discerned a little bundle of red and white. - -“There it is, Grace,” he called, and the two rode toward it. - -One of the heifers looked fearfully toward them, then at the bush, and -finally walked toward it, lowing plaintively. - -“We’re not going to hurt it, little girl,” the man assured her. - -As they came closer, there arose a thing of long, wabbly legs, big -joints, and great, dark eyes, its spotless coat of red and white -shining with health and life. - -“The cunning thing!” cried the girl. “How I’d like to squeeze it! I -just love ’em, Custer!” - -She had slipped from her saddle, and, dropping her reins on the ground, -was approaching the calf. - -“Look out for the cow!” cried the man, as he dismounted and moved -forward to the girl’s side, with his arm through the Apache’s reins. -“She hasn’t been up much, and she may be a little wild.” - -The calf stood its ground for a moment, and then, with tail erect, -cavorted madly for its mother, behind whom it took refuge. - -“I just love ’em! I just love ’em!” repeated the girl. - -“You say the same thing about the colts and the little pigs,” the man -reminded her. - -“I love ’em all!” she cried, shaking her head, her eyes twinkling. - -“You love them because they’re little and helpless, just like babies,” -he said. “Oh, Grace, how you’d love a baby!” - -The girl flushed prettily. Quite suddenly he seized her in his arms and -crushed her to him, smothering her with a long kiss. Breathless, she -wriggled partially away, but he still held her in his arms. - -“Why won’t you, Grace?” he begged. “There’ll never be anybody else for -me or for you. Father and mother and Eva love you almost as much as I -do, and on your side your mother and Guy have always seemed to take it -as a matter of course that we’d marry. It isn’t the drinking, is it, -dear?” - -“No, it’s not that, Custer. Of course I’ll marry you--some day; but not -yet. Why, I haven’t lived yet, Custer! I want to live. I want to do -something outside of the humdrum life that I have always led and the -humdrum life that I shall live as a wife and mother. I want to live a -little, Custer, and then I’ll be ready to settle down. You all tell me -that I am beautiful, and down, away down in the depth of my soul, I -feel that I have talent. If I have, I ought to use the gifts God has -given me.” - -She was speaking very seriously, and the man listened patiently and -with respect, for he realized that she was revealing for the first time -a secret yearning that she must have long held locked in her bosom. - -“Just what do you want to do, dear?” he asked gently. - -“I--oh, it seems silly when I try to put it in words, but in dreams it -is very beautiful and very real.” - -“The stage?” he asked. - -“It is just like you to understand!” Her smile rewarded him. “Will you -help me? I know mother will object.” - -“You want me to help you take all the happiness out of my life?” he -asked. - -“It would only be for a little while--just a few years, and then I -would come back to you--after I had made good.” - -“You would never come back, Grace, unless you failed,” he said. “If -you succeeded, you would never be contented in any other life or -atmosphere. If you came back a failure, you couldn’t help but carry -a little bitterness always in your heart. It would never be the same -dear, care-free heart that went away so gayly. Here you have a real -part to play in a real drama--not make-believe upon a narrow stage -with painted drops.” He flung out a hand in broad gesture. “Look at -the setting that God has painted here for us to play our parts in--the -parts that He has chosen for us! Your mother played upon the same -stage, and mine. Do you think them failures? And both were beautiful -girls--as beautiful as you.” - -“Oh, but you don’t understand, after all, Custer!” she cried. “I -thought you did.” - -“I do understand that for your sake I must do my best to persuade you -that you have as full a life before you here as upon the stage. I am -fighting first for your happiness, Grace, and then for mine. If I fail, -then I shall do all that I can to help you realize your ambition. If -you cannot stay because you are convinced that you will be happier -here, then I do not want you to stay.” - -“Kiss me,” she demanded suddenly. “I am only thinking of it, anyway, so -let’s not worry until there is something to worry about.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -The man bent his lips to hers again, and her arms stole about his neck. -The calf, in the meantime, perhaps disgusted by such absurdities, had -scampered off to try his brand-new legs again, with the result that he -ran into a low bush, turned a somersault, and landed on his back. The -mother, still doubtful of the intentions of the newcomers, to whose -malevolent presence she may have attributed the accident, voiced a -perturbed low; whereupon there broke from the vicinity of the live oak -a deep note, not unlike the rumbling of distant thunder. - -The man looked up. - -“I think we’ll be going,” he said. “The Emperor has issued an -ultimatum.” - -“Or a bull, perhaps,” Grace suggested, as they walked quickly toward -her horse. - -“Awful!” he commented, as he assisted her into the saddle. - -Then he swung to his own. - -The Emperor moved majestically toward them, his nose close to the -ground. Occasionally he stopped, pawing the earth and throwing dust -upon his broad back. - -“Doesn’t he look wicked?” cried the girl. “Just look at those eyes!” - -“He’s just an old bluffer,” replied the man. “However, I’d rather have -you in the saddle, for you can’t always be sure just what they’ll -do. We must call his bluff, though; it would never do to run from -him--might give him bad habits.” - -He rode toward the advancing animal, breaking into a canter as he drew -near the bull, and striking his booted leg with a quirt. - -“Hi, there, you old reprobate! Beat it!” he cried. - -The bull stood his ground with lowered head and rumbled threats until -the horseman was almost upon him; then he turned quickly aside as the -rider went past. - -“That’s better,” remarked Custer, as the girl joined him. - -“You’re not a bit afraid of him, are you, Custer? You’re not afraid of -anything.” - -“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he demurred. “I learned a long time ago that -most encounters consist principally of bluff. Maybe I’ve just grown to -be a good bluffer. Anyhow, I’m a better bluffer than the Emperor. If -the rascal had only known it, he could have run me ragged.” - -As they rode up the side of the basin, the man’s eyes moved constantly -from point to point, now noting the condition of the pasture grasses, -or again searching the more distant hills. Presently they alighted upon -a thin, wavering line of brown, which zigzagged down the opposite side -of the basin from a clump of heavy brush that partially hid a small -ravine, and crossed the meadow ahead of them. - -“There’s a new trail, Grace, and it don’t belong there. Let’s go and -take a look at it.” - -They rode ahead until they reached the trail, at a point where it -crossed the bottom of the basin and started up the side they had been -ascending. The man leaned above his horse’s shoulder and examined the -trampled turf. - -“Horses,” he said. “I thought so, and it’s been used a lot this winter. -You can see even now where the animals slipped and floundered after the -heavy rains.” - -“But you don’t run horses in this pasture, do you?” asked the girl. - -“No; and we haven’t run anything in it since last summer. This is -the only bunch in it, and they were just turned in about a week ago. -Anyway, the horses that made this trail were mostly shod. Now what in -the world is anybody going up there for?” His eyes wandered to the -heavy brush into which the trail disappeared upon the opposite rim of -the basin. “I’ll have to follow that up to-morrow--it’s too late to do -it to-day.” - -“We can follow it the other way, toward the ranch,” she suggested. - -They found the trail wound up the hillside and crossed the hogback in -heavy brush, which, in many places, had been cut away to allow the -easier passage of a horseman. - -“Do you see,” asked Custer, as they drew rein at the summit of the -ridge, “that although the trail crosses here in plain sight of the -ranch house, the brush would absolutely conceal a horseman from the -view of any one at the house? It must run right down into Jackknife -Cañon. Funny none of us have noticed it, for there’s scarcely a week -that that trail isn’t ridden by some of us!” - -As they descended into the cañon, they discovered why that end of the -new trail had not been noticed. It ran deep and well marked through the -heavy brush of a gully to a place where the brush commenced to thin, -and there it branched into a dozen dim trails that joined and blended -with the old, well worn cattle paths of the hillside. - -“Somebody’s mighty foxy,” observed the man; “but I don’t see what it’s -all about. The days of cattle runners and bandits are over.” - -“Just imagine!” exclaimed the girl. “A real mystery in our lazy, old -hills!” - -The man rode in silence and in thought. A herd of pure-bred Herefords, -whose value would have ransomed half the crowned heads remaining in -Europe, grazed in the several pastures that ran far back into those -hills; and back there somewhere that trail led, but for what purpose? -No good purpose, he was sure, or it had not been so cleverly hidden. - -As they came to the trail which they called the Camino Corto, where it -commenced at the gate leading from the old goat corral, the man jerked -his thumb toward the west along it. - -“They must come and go this way,” he said. - -“Perhaps they’re the ones mother and I have heard passing at night,” -suggested the girl. “If they are, they come right through your -property, below the house--not this way.” - -He opened the gate from the saddle and they passed through, crossing -the _barranco_, and stopping for a moment to look at the pigs and talk -with the herdsman. Then they rode on toward the ranch house, a half -mile farther down the widening cañon. It stood upon the summit of a low -hill, the declining sun transforming its plastered walls, its cupolas, -the sturdy arches of its arcades, into the semblance of a Moorish -castle. - -At the foot of the hill they dismounted at the saddle horse stable, -tied their horses, and ascended the long flight of rough concrete steps -toward the house. As they rounded the wild sumac bush at the summit, -they were espied by those sitting in the patio, around three sides of -which the house was built. - -“Oh, here they are now!” exclaimed Mrs. Pennington. “We were so afraid -that Grace would ride right on home, Custer. We had just persuaded Mrs. -Evans to stay for dinner. Guy is coming, too.” - -“Mother, you here, too?” cried the girl. “How nice and cool it is in -here! It would save a lot of trouble if we brought our things, mother.” - -“We are hoping that at least one of you will, very soon,” said Colonel -Pennington, who had risen, and now put an arm affectionately about the -girl’s shoulders. - -“That’s what I’ve been telling her again this afternoon,” said Custer; -“but instead she wants to----” - -The girl turned toward him with a little frown and shake of her head. - -“You’d better run down and tell Allen that we won’t use the horses -until after dinner,” she said. - -He grimaced good-naturedly and turned away. - -“I’ll have him take Senator home,” he said. “I can drive you and your -mother down in the car, when you leave.” - -As he descended the steps that wound among the umbrella trees, taking -on their new foliage, he saw Allen examining the Apache’s shoes. As he -neared them, the horse pulled away from the man, his suddenly lowered -hoof striking Allen’s instep. With an oath the fellow stepped back -and swung a vicious kick to the animal’s belly. Almost simultaneously -a hand fell heavily upon his shoulder. He was jerked roughly back, -whirled about, and sent spinning a dozen feet away, where he stumbled -and fell. As he scrambled to his feet, white with rage, he saw the -younger Pennington before him. - -“Go to the office and get your time,” ordered Pennington. - -“I’ll get you first, you son of a----” - -A hard fist connecting suddenly with his chin put a painful period to -his sentence before it was completed, and stopped his mad rush. - -“I’d be more careful of my conversation, Allen, if I were you,” said -Pennington quietly. “Just because you’ve been drinking is no excuse for -_that_. Now go on up to the office, as I told you to.” - -He had caught the odor of whisky as he jerked the man past him. - -“You goin’ to can me for drinkin’--_you?_” demanded Allen. - -“You know what I’m canning you for. You know that’s the one thing that -don’t go on Ganado. You ought to get what you gave the Apache, and -you’d better beat it before I lose my temper and give it to you!” - -The man rose slowly to his feet. In his mind he was revolving his -chances of successfully renewing his attack; but presently his judgment -got the better of his desire and his rage. He moved off slowly up the -hill toward the house. A few yards, and he turned. - -“I ain’t a goin’ to ferget this, you--you----” - -“Be careful!” Pennington admonished. - -“Nor you ain’t goin’ to ferget it, neither, you fox-trottin’ dude!” - -Allen turned again to the ascent of the steps. Pennington walked to the -Apache and stroked his muzzle. - -“Old boy,” he crooned, “there don’t anybody kick you and get away with -it, does there?” - -Halfway up, Allen stopped and turned again. - -“You think you’re the whole cheese, you Penningtons, don’t you?” he -called back. “With all your money an’ your fine friends! Fine friends, -yah! I can put one of ’em where he belongs any time I want--the darn -bootlegger! That’s what he is. You wait--you’ll see!” - -“A-ah, beat it!” sighed Pennington wearily. - -Mounting the Apache, he led Grace’s horse along the foot of the hill -toward the smaller ranch house of their neighbor, some half mile -away. Humming a little tune, he unsaddled Senator, turned him into -his corral, saw that there was water in his trough, and emptied a -measure of oats into his manger, for the horse had cooled off since -the afternoon ride. As neither of the Evans ranch hands appeared, he -found a piece of rag and wiped off the Senator’s bit, turned the saddle -blankets wet side up to dry, and then, leaving the stable, crossed the -yard to mount the Apache. - -A young man in riding clothes appeared simultaneously from the interior -of the bungalow, which stood a hundred feet away. Crossing the wide -porch, he called to Pennington. - -“Hello there, Penn! What you doing?” he demanded. - -“Just brought Senator in--Grace is up at the house. You’re coming up -there, too, Guy.” - -“Sure, but come in here a second. I’ve got something to show you.” - -Pennington crossed the yard and entered the house behind Grace’s -brother, who conducted him to his bedroom. Here young Evans unlocked -a closet, and, after rummaging behind some clothing, emerged with a -bottle, the shape and dimensions of which were once as familiar in the -land of the free as the benign countenance of Lydia E. Pinkham. - -“It’s the genuine stuff, Penn, too!” he declared. - -Pennington smiled. - -“Thanks, old fellow, but I’ve quit,” he said. - -“Quit!” exclaimed Evans. - -“Yep.” - -“But think of it, man--aged eight years in the wood, and bottled -in bond before July 1, 1919. The real thing, and as cheap as -moonshine--only six beans a quart. Can you believe it?” - -“I cannot,” admitted Pennington. “Your conversation listens phony.” - -“But it’s the truth. You may have quit, but one little snifter of this -won’t hurt you. Here’s this bottle already open--just try it”; and he -proffered the bottle and a glass to the other. - -“Well, it’s pretty hard to resist anything that sounds as good as this -does,” remarked Pennington. “I guess one won’t hurt me any.” He poured -himself a drink and took it. “Wonderful!” he ejaculated. - -“Here,” said Evans, diving into the closet once more. “I got you a -bottle, too, and we can get more.” - -Pennington took the bottle and examined it, almost caressingly. - -“Eight years in the wood!” he murmured. “I’ve got to take it, Guy. Must -have something to hand down to posterity.” He drew a bill fold from his -pocket and counted out six dollars. - -“Thanks,” said Guy. “You’ll never regret it.” - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -As the two young men climbed the hill to the big house, a few minutes -later, they found the elder Pennington standing at the edge of the -driveway that circled the hill top, looking out toward the wide cañon -and the distant mountains. In the nearer foreground lay the stable -and corrals of the saddle horses, the hen house with its two long -alfalfa runways, and the small dairy barn accommodating the little herd -of Guernseys that supplied milk, cream, and butter for the ranch. A -quarter of a mile beyond, among the trees, was the red-roofed “cabin” -where the unmarried ranch hands ate and slept, near the main corrals -with their barns, outhouses, and sheds. - -In a hilly pasture farther up the cañon the black and iron gray of -Percheron brood mares contrasted with the greening hillsides of spring. -Still farther away, the white and red of the lordly figure of the -Emperor stood out boldly upon the summit of the ridge behind Jackknife -Cañon. - -The two young men joined the older, and Custer put an arm -affectionately about his father’s shoulders. - -“You never tire of it,” said the young man. - -“I have been looking at it for twenty-two years, my son,” replied the -elder Pennington, “and each year it has become more wonderful to me. -It never changes, and yet it is never twice alike. See the purple -sage away off there, and the lighter spaces of wild buckwheat, and -here and there among the scrub oak the beautiful pale green of the -manzanita--scintillant jewels in the diadem of the hills! And the -faint haze of the mountains that seem to throw them just a little out -of focus, to make them a perfect background for the beautiful hills -which the Supreme Artist is placing on his canvas to-day. An hour -from now He will paint another masterpiece, and to-night another, and -forever others, with never two alike, nor ever one that mortal man can -duplicate; and all for us, boy, all for us, if we have the hearts and -the souls to see!” - -“How you love it!” said the boy. - -“Yes, and your mother loves it; and it is our great happiness that you -and Eva love it, too.” - -The boy made no reply. He did love it; but his was the heart of youth, -and it yearned for change and for adventure and for what lay beyond the -circling hills and the broad, untroubled valley that spread its level -fields below “the castle on the hill.” - -“The girls are dressing for a swim,” said the older man, after a moment -of silence. “Aren’t you boys going in?” - -“The girls” included his wife and Mrs. Evans, as well as Grace, for the -colonel insisted that youth was purely a physical and mental attribute, -independent of time. If one could feel and act in accord with the -spirit of youth, one could not be old. - -“Are you going in?” asked his son. - -“Yes, I was waiting for you two.” - -“I think I’ll be excused, sir,” said Guy. “The water is too cold yet. I -tried it yesterday, and nearly froze to death. I’ll come and watch.” - -The two Penningtons moved off toward the house, to get into swimming -things, while young Evans wandered down into the water gardens. As he -stood there, idly content in the quiet beauty of the spot, Allen came -down the steps, his check in his hand. At sight of the boy he halted -behind him, an unpleasant expression upon his face. - -Evans, suddenly aware that he was not alone, turned and recognized the -man. - -“Oh, hello, Allen!” he said. - -“Young Pennington just canned me,” said Allen, with no other return of -Evans’s greeting. - -“I’m sorry,” said Evans. - -“You may be sorrier!” growled Allen, continuing on his way toward the -cabin to get his blankets and clothes. - -For a moment Guy stared after the man, a puzzled expression knitting -his brows. Then he slowly flushed, glancing quickly about to see if -any one had overheard the brief conversation between Slick Allen and -himself. - -A few minutes later he entered the inclosure west of the house, where -the swimming pool lay. Mrs. Pennington and her guests were already in -the pool, swimming vigorously to keep warm, and a moment later the -colonel and Custer ran from the house and dived in simultaneously. -Though there was twenty-six years’ difference in their ages, it was not -evidenced by any lesser vitality or agility on the part of the older -man. - -Colonel Custer Pennington had been born in Virginia fifty years before. -Graduated from the Virginia Military Institute and West Point, he had -taken a commission in the cavalry branch of the service. Campaigning in -Cuba, he had been shot through one lung, and shortly after the close of -the war he was retired for disability, with rank of lieutenant colonel. -In 1900 he had come to California, on the advice of his physician in -the forlorn hope that he might prolong his sufferings a few years more. - -For two hundred years the Penningtons had bred fine men, women, and -horses upon the same soil in the State whose very existence was -inextricably interwoven with their own. A Pennington leave Virginia? -Horrors! Perish the thought! But Colonel Custer Pennington had had -to leave it or die, and with a young wife and a two-year-old boy he -couldn’t afford to die. Deep in his heart he meant to recover his -health in distant California and then return to the land of his love; -but his physician had told a mutual friend, who was also Pennington’s -attorney, that “poor old Cus” would almost undoubtedly be dead inside -of a year. - -And so Pennington had come West with Mrs. Pennington and little Custer, -Jr., and had found the Rancho del Ganado run down, untenanted, and -for sale. A month of loafing had left him almost ready to die of -stagnation, without any assistance from his poor lungs; and when, in -the course of a drive to another ranch, he had happened to see the -place, and had learned that it was for sale, the germ had been sown. - -He judged from the soil and the water that Ganado was not well suited -to raise the type of horse that he knew best, and that he and his -father and his grandfathers before them had bred in Virginia; but he -saw other possibilities. Moreover, he loved the hills and the cañons -from the first; and so he had purchased the ranch, more to have -something that would temporarily occupy his mind until his period of -exile was ended by a return to his native State, or by death, than with -any idea that it would prove a permanent home. - -The old Spanish American house had been remodeled and rebuilt. In four -years he had found that Herefords, Berkshires, and Percherons may win -a place in a man’s heart almost equal to that which a thoroughbred -occupies. Then a little daughter had come, and the final seal that -stamps a man’s house as his home was placed upon “the castle on the -hill.” - -His lung had healed--he could not tell by any sign it gave that it was -not as good as ever--and still he stayed on in the land of sunshine, -which he had grown to love without realizing its hold upon him. -Gradually he had forgotten to say “when we go back home”; and when at -last a letter came from a younger brother, saying that he wished to buy -the old place in Virginia if the Custer Penningtons did not expect to -return to it, the colonel was compelled to face the issue squarely. - -They had held a little family council--the colonel and Julia, his wife, -with seven-year-old Custer and little one-year-old Eva. Eva, sitting in -her mother’s lap, agreed with every one. Custer, Jr., burst into tears -at the very suggestion of leaving dear old Ganado. - -“And what do you think about it, Julia?” asked the colonel. - -“I love Virginia, dear,” she had replied; “but I think I love -California even more, and I say it without disloyalty to my own State. -It’s a different kind of love.” - -“I know what you mean,” said her husband. “Virginia is a mother to us, -California a sweetheart.” - -And so they stayed upon the Rancho del Ganado. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Work and play were inextricably entangled upon Ganado, the play being -of a nature that fitted them better for their work, while the work, -always in the open and usually from the saddle, they enjoyed fully -as much as the play. While the tired business man of the city was -expending a day’s vitality and nervous energy in an effort to escape -from the turmoil of the mad rush-hour and find a strap from which to -dangle homeward amid the toxic effluvia of the melting pot, Colonel -Pennington plunged and swam in the cold, invigorating waters of his -pool, after a day of labor fully as constructive and profitable as -theirs. - -“One more dive!” he called, balancing upon the end of the springboard, -“and then I’m going out. Eva ought to be here by the time we’re -dressed, hadn’t she? I’m about famished.” - -“I haven’t heard the train whistle yet, though it must be due,” replied -Mrs. Pennington. “You and Boy make so much noise swimming that we’ll -miss Gabriel’s trump if we happen to be in the pool at the time!” - -The colonel, Custer, and Grace Evans dived simultaneously, and, coming -up together, raced for the shallow end, where Mrs. Evans and her -hostess were preparing to leave the pool. The girl, reaching the hand -rail first, arose laughing and triumphant. - -“My foot slipped as I dived,” cried the younger Pennington, wiping the -water from his eyes, “or I’d have caught you!” - -“No alibis, Boy!” laughed the colonel. “Grace beat you fair and -square.” - -“Race you back for a dollar, Grace!” challenged the young man. - -“You’re on,” she cried. “One, two, three--go!” - -They were off. The colonel, who had preceded them leisurely into the -deep water, swam close to his son as the latter was passing, a yard -in the lead. Simultaneously the young man’s progress ceased. With a -Comanche-like yell he turned upon his father, and the two men grappled -and went down. When they came up, spluttering and laughing, the girl -was climbing out of the pool. - -“You win, Grace!” shouted the colonel. - -“It’s a frame-up!” cried Custer. “He grabbed me by the ankle!” - -“Well, who had a better right?” demanded the girl. “He’s referee.” - -“He’s a fine mess for a referee!” grumbled Custer good-naturedly. - -“Run along and get your dollar, and pay up like a gentleman,” -admonished his father. - -“What do you get out of it? What do you pay him, Grace?” - -They were still bantering as they entered the house and sought their -several rooms to dress. - -Guy Evans strolled from the walled garden of the swimming pool to the -open arch that broke the long pergola beneath which the driveway ran -along the north side of the house. Here he had an unobstructed view of -the broad valley stretching away to the mountains in the distance. - -Down the center of the valley a toy train moved noiselessly. As he -watched it, he saw a puff of white rise from the tiny engine. It rose -and melted in the evening air before the thin, clear sound of the -whistle reached his ears. The train crawled behind the green of trees -and disappeared. - -He knew that it had stopped at the station, and that a slender, -girlish figure was alighting, with a smile for the porter and a gay -word for the conductor who had carried her back and forth for years -upon her occasional visits to the city a hundred miles away. Now the -chauffeur was taking her bag and carrying it to the roadster that she -would drive home along the wide, straight boulevard that crossed the -valley--utterly ruining a number of perfectly good speed laws. - -Two minutes elapsed, and the train crawled out from behind the trees -and continued its way up the valley--a little black caterpillar with -spots of yellow twinkling along its sides. As twilight deepened, the -lights from ranch houses and villages sprinkled the floor of the -valley. Like jewels scattered from a careless hand, they fell singly -and in little clusters; and then the stars, serenely superior, came -forth to assure the glory of a perfect California night. - -The headlights of a motor car turned in at the driveway. Guy went to -the east porch and looked in at the living room door, where some of the -family had already collected. - -“Eva’s coming!” he announced. - -She had been gone since the day before, but she might have been -returning from a long trip abroad, if every one’s eagerness to greet -her was any criterion. Unlike city dwellers, these people had never -learned to conceal the lovelier emotions of their hearts behind a mask -of assumed indifference. Perhaps the fact that they were not forever -crowded shoulder to shoulder with strangers permitted them an enjoyable -naturalness which the dweller in the wholesale districts of humanity -can never know; for what a man may reveal of his heart among friends -he hides from the unsympathetic eyes of others, though it may be the -noblest of his possessions. - -With a rush the car topped the hill, swung up the driveway, and stopped -at the corner of the house. A door flew open, and the girl leaped from -the driver’s seat. - -“Hello, everybody!” she cried. - -Snatching a kiss from her brother as she passed him, she fairly leaped -upon her mother, hugging, kissing, laughing, dancing, and talking all -at once. Espying her father, she relinquished a disheveled and laughing -mother and dived for him. - -“Most adorable pops!” she cried, as he caught her in his arms. “Are you -glad to have your little nuisance back? I’ll bet you’re not. Do you -love me? You won’t when you know how much I’ve spent, but oh, popsy, -I had _such_ a good time! That’s all there was to it, and oh, momsie, -who, who, _who_ do you suppose I met? Oh, you’d never guess--never, -never!” - -“Whom did you meet?” asked her mother. - -“Yes, little one, _whom_ did you meet?” inquired her brother. - -“And he’s perfectly _gorgeous_,” continued the girl, as if there -had been no interruption; “and I danced with him--oh, such _divine_ -dancing! Oh, Guy Evans! Why how do you do? I never saw you.” - -The young man nodded glumly. - -“How are you, Eva?” he said. - -“Mrs. Evans is here, too, dear,” her mother reminded her. - -The girl curtsied before her mother’s guest, and then threw her arm -about the older woman’s neck. - -“Oh, Aunt Mae!” she cried. “I’m _so_ excited; but you should have -_seen_ him, and, momsie, I got the _cutest_ riding hat!” They were -moving toward the living room door, which Guy was holding open. “Guy, I -got you the splendiferousest Christmas present!” - -“Help!” cried her brother, collapsing into a porch chair. “Don’t you -know that I have a weak heart? Do your Christmas shopping early--do it -in April! Oh, Lord, can you beat it?” he demanded of the others. “Can -you beat it?” - -“I think it was mighty nice of Eva to remember me at all,” said Guy, -thawing perceptibly. - -“What is it?” asked Custer. “I’ll bet you got him a pipe.” - -“How ever in the world did you guess?” demanded Eva. - -Custer rocked from side to side in his chair, laughing. - -“What are you laughing at? Idiot!” cried the girl. “How did you guess I -got him a pipe?” - -“Because he never smokes anything but cigarettes.” - -“You’re horrid!” - -He pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her. - -“Dear little one!” he cried. Taking her head between his hands, he -shook it. “Hear ’em rattle!” - -“But I love a pipe,” stated Guy emphatically. “The trouble is, I never -had a really nice one before.” - -“There!” exclaimed the girl triumphantly. “And you know _Sherlock -Holmes_ always smoked a pipe.” - -Her brother knitted his brows. - -“I don’t quite connect,” he announced. - -“Well, if you need a diagram, isn’t Guy an author?” she demanded. - -“Not so that any one could notice it--yet,” demurred Evans. - -“Well, you’re going to be!” said the girl proudly. - -“The light is commencing to dawn,” announced her brother. “_Sherlock -Holmes_, the famous author, who wrote Conan Doyle!” - -A blank expression overspread the girl’s face, to be presently expunged -by a slow smile. - -“You are perfectly horrid!” she cried. “I’m going in to dapper up a bit -for dinner--don’t wait.” - -She danced through the living room and out into the patio toward her -own rooms. - -“Rattle, rattle, little brain; rattle, rattle round again,” her brother -called after her. “Can you beat her?” he added, to the others. - -“She can’t even be approximated,” laughed the colonel. “In all the -world there is only one of her.” - -“And she’s ours, bless her!” said the brother. - -The colonel was glancing over the headlines of an afternoon paper that -Eva had brought from the city. - -“What’s new?” asked Custer. - -“Same old rot,” replied his father. “Murders, divorces, kidnapers, -bootleggers, and they haven’t even the originality to make them -interesting by evolving new methods. Oh, hold on--this isn’t so bad! -‘Two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of stolen whisky landed on coast,’ -he read. ‘Prohibition enforcement agents, together with special agents -from the Treasury Department, are working on a unique theory that may -reveal the whereabouts of the fortune in bonded whisky stolen from -a government warehouse in New York a year ago. All that was known -until recently was that the whisky was removed from the warehouse in -trucks in broad daylight, compassing one of the boldest robberies ever -committed in New York. Now, from a source which they refuse to divulge, -the government sleuths have received information which leads them to -believe that the liquid loot was loaded aboard a sailing vessel, and -after a long trip around the Horn, is lying somewhere off the coast of -southern California. That it is being lightered ashore in launches and -transported to some hiding place in the mountains is one theory upon -which the government is working. The whisky is eleven years old, was -bottled in bond three years ago, just before the Eighteenth Amendment -became a harrowing reality. It will go hard with the traffickers in -this particular parcel of wet goods if they are apprehended, since -the theft was directly from a government bonded warehouse, and all -government officials concerned in the search are anxious to make an -example of the guilty parties.’ - -“Eleven years old!” sighed the colonel. “It makes my mouth water! I’ve -been subsisting on home-made grape wine for over a year. Think of -it--a Pennington! Why, my ancestors must be writhing in their Virginia -graves!” - -“On the contrary, they’re probably laughing in their sleeves. They died -before July 1, 1919,” interposed Custer. “Eleven years old--eight years -in the wood,” he mused aloud, shooting a quick glance in the direction -of Guy Evans, who suddenly became deeply interested in a novel lying on -a table beside his chair, notwithstanding the fact that he had read it -six months before and hadn’t liked it. “And it will go hard with the -traffickers, too,” continued young Pennington. “Well, I should hope it -would. They’ll probably hang ’em, the vile miscreants!” - -Guy had risen and walked to the doorway opening upon the patio. - -“I wonder what is keeping Eva,” he remarked. - -“Getting hungry?” asked Mrs. Pennington. “Well, I guess we all are. -Suppose we don’t wait any longer? Eva won’t mind.” - -“If I wait much longer,” observed the colonel, “some one will have to -carry me into the dining room.” - -As they crossed the library toward the dining room the two young men -walked behind their elders. - -“Is your appetite still good?” inquired Custer. - -“Shut up!” retorted Evans. “You give me a pain.” - -They had finished their soup before Eva joined them, and after the -men were reseated they took up the conversation where it had been -interrupted. As usual, if not always brilliant, it was at least -diversified, for it included many subjects from grand opera to -the budding of English walnuts on the native wild stock, and from -the latest novel to the most practical method of earmarking pigs. -Paintings, poems, plays, pictures, people, horses, and home-brew--each -came in for a share of the discussion, argument, and raillery that ran -round the table. - -During a brief moment when she was not engaged in conversation, Guy -seized the opportunity to whisper to Eva, who sat next to him. - -“Who was that bird you met in L.A.?” he asked. - -“Which one?” - -“Which one! How many did you meet?” - -“Oodles of them.” - -“I mean the one you were ranting about.” - -“Which one was I ranting about? I don’t remember.” - -“You’re enough to drive anybody to drink, Eva Pennington!” cried the -young man disgustedly. - -“Radiant man!” she cooed. “What’s the dapper little idea in that -talented brain--jealous?” - -“I want to know who he is,” demanded Guy. - -“Who who is?” - -“You know perfectly well who I mean--the poor fish you were raving -about before dinner. You said you danced with him. Who is he? That’s -what I want to know.” - -“I don’t like the way you talk to me; but if you must know, he was the -most dazzling thing you ever saw. He----” - -“I never saw him, and I don’t want to, and I don’t care how dazzling he -is. I only want to know his name.” - -“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? His name’s Wilson -Crumb.” Her tone was as of one who says: “Behold Alexander the Great!” - -“Wilson Crumb! Who’s he?” - -“Do you mean to sit there and tell me that you don’t know who Wilson -Crumb is, Guy Evans?” she demanded. - -“Never heard of him,” he insisted. - -“Never heard of Wilson Crumb, the famous actor-director? Such -ignorance!” - -“Did you ever hear of him before this trip to L.A.?” inquired her -brother from across the table. “I never heard you mention him before.” - -“Well, maybe I didn’t,” admitted the girl; “but he’s the most dazzling -dancer you ever saw--and such eyes! And maybe he’ll come out to the -ranch and bring his company. He said they were often looking for just -such locations.” - -“And I suppose you invited him?” demanded Custer accusingly. - -“And why not? I had to be polite, didn’t I?” - -“You know perfectly well that father has never permitted such a -thing,” insisted her brother, looking toward the colonel for support. - -“He didn’t ask father--he asked me,” returned the girl. - -“You see,” said the colonel, “how simply Eva solves every little -problem.” - -“But you know, popsy, how perfectly superb it would be to have them -take some pictures right here on our very own ranch, where we could -watch them all day long.” - -“Yes,” growled Custer; “watch them wreck the furniture and demolish -the lawns! Why, one bird of a director ran a troop of cavalry over one -of the finest lawns in Hollywood. Then they’ll go up in the hills and -chase the cattle over the top into the ocean. I’ve heard all about -them. I’d never allow one of ’em on the place.” - -“Maybe they’re not all inconsiderate and careless,” suggested Mrs. -Pennington. - -“You remember there was a company took a few scenes at my place a year -or so ago,” interjected Mrs. Evans. “They were very nice indeed.” - -“They were just wonderful,” said Grace Evans. “I hope the colonel lets -them come. It would be piles of fun!” - -“You can’t tell anything about them,” volunteered Guy. “I understand -they pick up all sorts of riffraff for extra people--I.W.W.’s and all -sorts of people like that. I’d be afraid.” - -He shook his head dubiously. - -“The trouble with you two is,” asserted Eva, “that you’re afraid to let -us girls see any nice-looking actors from the city. That’s what’s the -matter with you!” - -“Yes, they’re jealous,” agreed Mrs. Pennington, laughing. - -“Well,” said Custer, “if there are leading men there are leading -ladies, and from what I’ve seen of them the leading ladies are -better-looking than the leading men. By all means, now that I consider -the matter, let them come. Invite them at once, for a month--wire -them!” - -“Silly!” cried his sister. “He may not come here at all. He just -mentioned it casually.” - -“And all this tempest in a teapot for nothing,” said the colonel. - -Wilson Crumb was forthwith dropped from the conversation and forgotten -by all, even by impressionable little Eva. - -As the young people gathered around Mrs. Pennington at the piano in the -living room, Mrs. Evans and Colonel Pennington sat apart, carrying on a -desultory conversation while they listened to the singing. - -“We have a new neighbor,” remarked Mrs. Evans, “on the ten-acre orchard -adjoining us on the west.” - -“Yes--Mrs. Burke. She has moved in, has she?” inquired the colonel. - -“Yesterday. She is a widow from the East--has a daughter in Los -Angeles, I believe.” - -“She came to see me about a month ago,” said the colonel, “to ask my -advice about the purchase of the property. She seemed rather a refined, -quiet little body. I must tell Julia--she will want to call on her.” - -“I insisted on her taking dinner with us last night,” said Mrs. Evans. -“She seems very frail, and was all worn out. Unpacking and settling is -trying enough for a robust person, and she seems so delicate that I -really don’t see how she stood it all.” - -Then the conversation drifted to other topics until the party at the -piano broke up and Eva came dancing over to her father. - -“Gorgeous popsy!” she cried, seizing him by an arm. “Just one dance -before bedtime--if you love me, just one!” - -Colonel Pennington rose from his chair, laughing. - -“I know your one dance, you little fraud--five fox-trots, three -one-steps, and a waltz.” - -With his arms about each other they started for the ballroom--really -a big play room, which adjoined the garage. Behind them, laughing and -talking, came the two older women, the two sons, and Grace Evans. They -would dance for an hour and then go to bed, for they rose early and -were in the saddle before sunrise, living their happy, care-free life -far from the strife and squalor of the big cities, and yet with more of -the comforts and luxuries than most city dwellers ever achieve. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -The bungalow at 1421 Vista del Paso was of the new school of Hollywood -architecture, which appears to be a hysterical effort to combine Queen -Anne, Italian, Swiss chalet, Moorish, Mission, and Martian. Its plaster -walls were of a yellowish rose, the outside woodwork being done in -light blue, while the windows were shaded with striped awnings of -olive and pink. On one side of the entrance rose a green pergola--the -ambitious atrocity that marks the meeting place of landscape gardening -and architecture, and that outrages them both. Culture has found -a virus for the cast iron dogs, deer, and rabbits that ramped in -immobility upon the lawns of yesteryear, but the green pergola is an -incurable disease. - -Connecting with the front of the house, a plaster wall continued across -the narrow lot to the property line at one side and from there back -to the alley, partially inclosing a patio--which is Hollywood for -back-yard. An arched gateway opened into the patio from the front. The -gate was of rough redwood boards, and near the top there were three -auger holes arranged in the form of a triangle--this was art. Upon -the yellow-rose plaster above the arch a design of three monkeys was -stenciled in purple--this also was art. - -As you wait in the three-foot-square vestibule you notice that the -floor is paved with red brick set in black mortar, and that the Oregon -pine door, with its mahogany stain, would have been beautiful in its -severe simplicity but for the little square of plate glass set in -the upper right hand corner, demonstrating conclusively the daring -originality of the artist architect. - -Presently your ring is answered, and the door is opened by a Japanese -“schoolboy” of thirty-five in a white coat. You are ushered directly -into a living room, whereupon you forget all about architects and -art, for the room is really beautiful, even though a trifle heavy in -an Oriental way, with its Chinese rugs, dark hangings, and ponderous, -overstuffed furniture. The Japanese schoolboy, who knows you, closes -the door behind you and then tiptoes silently from the room. - -Across from you, on a divan, a woman is lying, her face buried among -pillows. When you cough, she raises her face toward you, and you see -that it is very beautiful, even though the eyes are a bit wide and -staring and the expression somewhat haggard. You see a mass of black -hair surrounding a face of perfect contour. Even the plucked and -penciled brows, the rouged cheeks, and carmined lips cannot hide a -certain dignity and sweetness. - -At sight of you she rises, a bit unsteadily, and, smiling with her -lips, extends a slender hand in greeting. The fingers of the hand -tremble and are stained with nicotine. Her eyes do not smile--ever. - -“The same as usual?” she asks in a weary voice. - -Your throat is very dry. You swallow before you assure her eagerly, -almost feverishly, that her surmise is correct. She leaves the room. -Probably you have not noticed that she is wild-eyed and haggard, or -that her fingers are stained and trembling, for you, too, are wild-eyed -and haggard, and you are trembling worse than she. - -Presently she returns. In her left hand is a small glass phial, -containing many little tablets. As she crosses to you, she extends her -right hand with the palm up. It is a slender, delicate hand, yet there -is a look of strength to it, for all its whiteness. You lay a bill in -it, and she hands you the phial. That is all. You leave, and she closes -the Oregon pine door quietly behind you. - -As she turns about toward the divan again, she hesitates. Her eyes -wander to a closed door at one side of the room. She takes a half step -toward it, and then draws back, her shoulders against the door. Her -fingers are clenched tightly, the nails sinking into the soft flesh -of her palms; but still her eyes are upon the closed door. They are -staring and wild, like those of a beast at bay. She is trembling from -head to foot. - -For a minute she stands there, fighting her grim battle, alone and -without help. Then, as with a last mighty effort, she drags her eyes -from the closed door and glances toward the divan. With unsteady step -she returns to it and throws herself down among the pillows. - -Her shoulders move to dry sobs, she clutches the pillows frantically in -her strong fingers, she rolls from side to side, as people do who are -suffering physical torture; but at last she relaxes and lies quiet. - -A clock ticks monotonously from the mantel. Its sound fills the whole -room, growing with fiendish intensity to a horrid din that pounds upon -taut, raw nerves. She covers her ears with her palms to shut it out, -but it bores insistently through. She clutches her thick hair with both -hands; her fingers are entangled in it. For a long minute she lies -thus, prone, and then her slippered feet commence to fly up and down as -she kicks her toes in rapid succession into the unresisting divan. - -Suddenly she leaps to her feet and rushes toward the mantel. - -“Damn you!” she screams, and, seizing the clock, dashes it to pieces -upon the tiled hearth. - -Then her eyes leap to the closed door; and now, without any hesitation, -almost defiantly, she crosses the room, opens the door, and disappears -within the bathroom beyond. - -Five minutes later the door opens again, and the woman comes back into -the living room. She is humming a gay little tune. Stopping at a table, -she takes a cigarette from a carved wooden box and lights it. Then she -crosses to the baby grand piano in one corner, and commences to play. -Her voice, rich and melodious, rises in a sweet old song of love and -youth and happiness. - -Something has mended her shattered nerves. Upon the hearth lies the -shattered clock. It can never be mended. - -If you should return now and look at her, you would see that she was -even more beautiful than you had at first suspected. She has put her -hair in order once more, and has arranged her dress. You see now that -her figure is as perfect as her face, and when she crossed to the piano -you could not but note the easy grace of her carriage. - -Her name--her professional name--is Gaza de Lure. You may have seen her -in small parts on the screen, and may have wondered why some one did -not star her. Of recent months you have seen her less and less often, -and you have been sorry, for you had learned to admire the sweetness -and purity that were reflected in her every expression and mannerism. -You liked her, too, because she was as beautiful as she was good--for -you knew that she was good just by looking at her in the pictures; but -above all you liked her for her acting, for it was unusually natural -and unaffected, and something told you that here was a born actress who -would some day be famous. - -Two years ago she came to Hollywood from a little town in the Middle -West--that is, two years before you looked in upon her at the bungalow -on the Vista del Paso. She was fired by high purpose then. Her child’s -heart, burning with lofty ambition, had set its desire upon a noble -goal. The broken bodies of a thousand other children dotted the road to -the same goal, but she did not see them, or seeing, did not understand. - -Stronger, perhaps, than her desire for fame was an unselfish ambition -that centered about the mother whom she had left behind. To that mother -the girl’s success would mean greater comfort and happiness than she -had known since a worthless husband had deserted her shortly after the -baby came--the baby who was now known as Gaza de Lure. - -There had been the usual rounds of the studios, the usual -disappointments, followed by more or less regular work as an extra -girl. During this period she had learned many things--of some of which -she had never thought as having any possible bearing upon her chances -for success. - -For example, a director had asked her to go with him to Vernon one -evening, for dinner and dancing, and she had refused, for several -reasons--one being her certainty that her mother would disapprove, and -another the fact that the director was a married man. The following day -the girl who had accompanied him was cast for a part which had been -promised to Gaza, and for which Gaza was peculiarly suited. As she was -leaving the lot that day, greatly disappointed, the assistant director -had stopped her. - -“Too bad, kid,” he said. “I’m mighty sorry; for I always liked you. If -I can ever help you, I sure will.” - -The kindly words brought the tears to her eyes. Here, at least, was one -good man; but he was not in much of a position to help her. - -“You’re very kind,” she said; “but I’m afraid there’s nothing you can -do.” - -“Don’t be too sure of that,” he answered. “I’ve got enough on that big -stiff so’s he has to do about as I say. The trouble with you is you -ain’t enough of a good fellow. You got to be a good fellow to get on in -pictures. Just step out with me some night, an’ I promise you you’ll -get a job!” - -The suddenly widening childish eyes meant nothing to the shallow mind -of the callow little shrimp, whose brain pan would doubtless have burst -under the pressure of a single noble thought. As she turned quickly and -walked away, he laughed aloud. She had not gone back to that studio. - -In the months that followed she had had many similar experiences, until -she had become hardened enough to feel the sense of shame and insult -less strongly than at first. She could talk back to them now, and -tell them what she thought of them; but she found that she got fewer -and fewer engagements. There was always enough to feed and clothe her, -and to pay for the little room she rented; but there seemed to be no -future, and that had been all that she cared about. - -She would not have minded hard work--she had expected that. Nor did she -fear disappointments and a slow, tedious road; for though she was but -a young girl, she was not without character, and she had a good head -on those trim shoulders of hers. She was unsophisticated, yet mature, -too, for her years; for she had always helped her mother to plan the -conservation of their meager resources. - -Many times she had wanted to go back to her mother, but she had stayed -on, because she still had hopes, and because she shrank from the fact -of defeat admitted. How often she cried herself to sleep in those -lonely nights, after days of bitter disillusionment! The great ambition -that had been her joy was now her sorrow. The vain little conceit that -she had woven about her screen name was but a pathetic memory. - -She had never told her mother that she had taken the name of Gaza -de Lure, for she had dreamed of the time when it would leap into -national prominence overnight in some wonderful picture, and her -mother, unknowing, would see the film and recognize her. How often -she had pictured the scene in their little theater at home--her -sudden recognition by her mother and their friends--the surprise, the -incredulity, and then the pride and happiness in her mother’s face! How -they would whisper! And after the show they would gather around her -mother, all excitedly talking at the same time. - -And then she had met Wilson Crumb. She had had a small part in a -picture in which he played lead, and which he also directed. He had -been very kind to her, very courteous. She had thought him handsome, -notwithstanding a certain weakness in his face; but what had attracted -her most was the uniform courtesy of his attitude toward all the -women of the company. Here at last, she thought, she had found a real -gentleman whom she could trust implicitly; and once again her ambition -lifted its drooping head. - -She thought of what another girl had once told her--an older girl, who -had been in pictures for several years. - -“They are not all bad, dear,” her friend had said. “There are good and -bad in the picture game, just as there are in any sort of business. -It’s been your rotten luck to run up against a lot of the bad ones.” - -The first picture finished, Crumb had cast her for a more important -part in another, and she had made good in both. Before the second -picture was completed, the company that employed Crumb offered her -a five-year contract. It was only for fifty dollars a week; but it -included a clause which automatically increased the salary to one -hundred a week, two hundred and fifty, and then five hundred dollars in -the event that they starred her. She knew that it was to Crumb that she -owed the contract--Crumb had seen to that. - -Very gradually, then--so gradually and insidiously that the girl could -never recall just when it had started--Crumb commenced to make love -to her. At first it took only the form of minor attentions--little -courtesies and thoughtful acts; but after a while he spoke of -love--very gently and very tenderly, as any man might have done. - -She had never thought of loving him or any other man; so she was -puzzled at first, but she was not offended. He had given her no cause -for offense. When he had first broached the subject, she had asked him -not to speak of it, as she did not think that she loved him, and he had -said that he would wait; but the seed was planted in her mind, and it -came to occupy much of her thoughts. - -She realized that she owed to him what little success she had achieved. -She had an assured income that was sufficient for her simple wants, -while permitting her to send something home to her mother every week, -and it was all due to the kindness of Wilson Crumb. He was a successful -director, he was more than a fair actor, he was good-looking, he was -kind, he was a gentleman, and he loved her. What more could any girl -ask? - -She thought the matter out very carefully, finally deciding that though -she did not exactly love Wilson Crumb she probably would learn to love -him, and that if he loved her it was in a way her duty to make him -happy, when he had done so much for her happiness. She made up her -mind, therefore, to marry him whenever he asked her; but Crumb did not -ask her to marry him. He continued to make love to her; but the matter -of marriage never seemed to enter the conversation. - -Once, when they were out on location, and had had a hard day, ending by -getting thoroughly soaked in a sudden rain, he had followed her to her -room in the little mountain inn where they were stopping. - -“You’re cold and wet and tired,” he said. “I want to give you something -that will brace you up.” - -He entered the room and closed the door behind him. Then he took -from his pocket a small piece of paper folded into a package about -an inch and three-quarters long by half an inch wide, with one end -tucked ingeniously inside the fold to form a fastening. Opening it, he -revealed a white powder, the minute crystals of which glistened beneath -the light from the electric bulbs. - -“It looks just like snow,” she said. - -“Sure!” he replied, with a faint smile. “It is snow. Look, I’ll show -you how to take it.” - -He divided the powder into halves, took one in the palm of his hand, -and snuffed it into his nostrils. - -“There!” he exclaimed. “That’s the way--it will make you feel like a -new woman.” - -“But what is it?” she asked. “Won’t it hurt me?” - -“It’ll make you feel bully. Try it.” - -So she tried it, and it made her “feel bully.” She was no longer tired, -but deliciously exhilarated. - -“Whenever you want any, let me know,” he said, as he was leaving the -room. “I usually have some handy.” - -“But I’d like to know what it is,” she insisted. - -“Aspirin,” he replied. “It makes you feel that way when you snuff it up -your nose.” - -After he left, she recovered the little piece of paper from the waste -basket where he had thrown it, her curiosity aroused. She found it a -rather soiled bit of writing paper with a “C” written in lead pencil -upon it. - -“‘C,’” she mused. “Why aspirin with a C?” - -She thought she would question Wilson about it. - -The next day she felt out of sorts and tired, and at noon she asked him -if he had any aspirin with him. He had, and again she felt fine and -full of life. That evening she wanted some more, and Crumb gave it to -her. The next day she wanted it oftener, and by the time they returned -to Hollywood from location she was taking it five or six times a day. -It was then that Crumb asked her to come and live with him at his Vista -del Paso bungalow; but he did not mention marriage. - -He was standing with a little paper of the white powder in his hand, -separating half of it for her, and she was waiting impatiently for it. - -“Well?” he asked. - -“Well, what?” - -“Are you coming over to live with me?” he demanded. - -“Without being married?” she asked. - -She was surprised that the idea no longer seemed horrible. Her eyes and -her mind were on the little white powder that the man held in his hand. - -Crumb laughed. - -“Quit your kidding,” he said. “You know perfectly well that I can’t -marry you yet. I have a wife in San Francisco.” - -She did not know it perfectly well--she did not know it at all; yet -it did not seem to matter so very much. A month ago she would have -caressed a rattlesnake as willingly as she would have permitted a -married man to make love to her; but now she could listen to a plea -from one who wished her to come and live with him, without experiencing -any numbing sense of outraged decency. - -Of course, she had no intention of doing what he asked; but really -the matter was of negligible import--the thing in which she was most -concerned was the little white powder. She held out her hand for it, -but he drew it away. - -“Answer me first,” he said. “Are you going to be sensible or not?” - -“You mean that you won’t give it to me if I won’t come?” she asked. - -“That’s precisely what I mean,” he replied. “What do you think I am, -anyway? Do you know what this bundle of ‘C’ stands me? Two fifty, and -you’ve been snuffing about three of ’em a day. What kind of a sucker do -you think I am?” - -Her eyes, still upon the white powder, narrowed. - -“I’ll come,” she whispered. “Give it to me!” - -She went to the bungalow with him that day, and she learned where he -kept the little white powders, hidden in the bathroom. After dinner she -put on her hat and her fur, and took up her vanity case, while Crumb -was busy in another room. Then, opening the front door, she called: - -“Good-by!” - -Crumb rushed into the living room. - -“Where are you going?” he demanded. - -“Home,” she replied. - -“No, you’re not!” he cried. “You promised to stay here.” - -“I promised to come,” she corrected him. “I never promised to stay, and -I never shall until you are divorced and we are married.” - -“You’ll come back,” he sneered, “when you want another shot of snow!” - -“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied. “I guess I can buy aspirin at any drug -store as well as you.” - -Crumb laughed aloud. - -“You little fool, you!” he cried derisively. “Aspirin! Why, it’s -cocaine you’re snuffing, and you’re snuffing about three grains of it a -day!” - -For an instant a look of horror filled her widened eyes. - -“You beast!” she cried. “You unspeakable beast!” - -Slamming the door behind her, she almost ran down the narrow walk -and disappeared in the shadows of the palm trees that bordered the -ill-lighted street. - -The man did not follow her. He only stood there laughing, for he knew -that she would come back. Craftily he had enmeshed her. It had taken -months, and never had quarry been more wary or difficult to trap. A -single false step earlier in the game would have frightened her away -forever; but he had made no false step. He was very proud of himself, -was Wilson Crumb, for he was convinced that he had done a very clever -bit of work. - -Rubbing his hands together, he walked toward the bathroom--he would -take a shot of snow; but when he opened the receptacle, he found it -empty. - -“The little devil!” he ejaculated. - -Frantically he rummaged through the medicine cabinet, but in vain. Then -he hastened into the living room, seized his hat, and bolted for the -street. - -Almost immediately he realized the futility of search. He did not know -where the girl lived. She had never told him. He did not know it, but -she had never told any one. The studio had a post-office box number -to which it could address communications to Gaza de Lure; the mother -addressed the girl by her own name at the house where she had roomed -since coming to Hollywood. The woman who rented her the room did not -know her screen name. All she knew about her was that she seemed a -quiet, refined girl who paid her room rent promptly in advance every -week, and who was always home at night, except when on location. - -Crumb returned to the bungalow, searched the bathroom twice more, and -went to bed. For hours he lay awake, tossing restlessly. - -“The little devil!” he muttered, over and over. “Fifty dollars’ worth -of cocaine--the little devil!” - -The next day Gaza was at the studio, ready for work, when Crumb put -in his belated appearance. He was nervous and irritable. Almost -immediately he called her aside and demanded an accounting; but when -they were face to face, and she told him that she was through with him, -he realized that her hold upon him was stronger than he had supposed. -He could not give her up. He was ready to promise anything, and he -would demand nothing in return, only that she would be with him as much -as possible. Her nights should be her own--she could go home then. And -so the arrangement was consummated, and Gaza de Lure spent the days -when she was not working at the bungalow on the Vista del Paso. - -Crumb saw that she was cast for small parts that required but little -of her time at the studio, yet raised no question at the office as to -her salary of fifty dollars a week. Twice the girl asked why he did not -star her, and both times he told her that he would--for a price; but -the price was one that she would not pay. After a time the drugs which -she now used habitually deadened her ambition, so that she no longer -cared. She still managed to send a little money home, but not so much -as formerly. - -As the months passed, Crumb’s relations with the source of the supply -of their narcotic became so familiar that he could obtain considerable -quantities at a reduced rate, and the plan of peddling the drug -occurred to him. Gaza was induced to do her share, and so it came about -that the better class “hypes” of Hollywood found it both safe and easy -to obtain their supplies from the bungalow on the Vista del Paso. -Cocaine, heroin, and morphine passed continually through the girl’s -hands, and she came to know many of the addicts, though she seldom had -further intercourse with them than was necessary to the transaction of -the business that brought them to the bungalow. - -From one, a woman, she learned how to use morphine, dissolving the -white powder in the bowl of a spoon by passing a lighted match beneath, -and then drawing the liquid through a tiny piece of cotton into a -hypodermic syringe and injecting it beneath the skin. Once she had -experienced the sensation of well-being it induced, she fell an easy -victim to this more potent drug. - -One evening Crumb brought home with him a stranger whom he had known -in San Francisco--a man whom he introduced as Allen. From that evening -the fortunes of Gaza de Lure improved. Allen had just returned from the -Orient as a member of the crew of a freighter, and he had succeeded -in smuggling in a considerable quantity of opium. In his efforts to -dispose of it he had made the acquaintance of others in the same line -of business, and had joined forces with them. His partners could -command a more or less steady supply of morphine, and cocaine from -Mexico, while Allen undertook to keep up their stock of opium, and to -arrange a market for their drugs in Los Angeles. - -If Crumb could handle it all, Allen agreed to furnish morphine at fifty -dollars an ounce--Gaza to do the actual peddling. The girl agreed on -one condition--that half the profits should be hers. After that she had -been able to send home more money than ever before, and at the same -time to have all the morphine she wanted at a low price. She began to -put money in the bank, made a first payment on a small orchard about a -hundred miles from Los Angeles, and sent for her mother. - -The day before you called on her in the “art” bungalow at 1421 Vista -del Paso she had put her mother on a train bound for her new home, with -the promise that the daughter would visit her “as soon as we finish -this picture.” It had required all the girl’s remaining will power to -hide her shame from those eager mother eyes; but she had managed to do -it, though it had left her almost a wreck by the time the train pulled -out of the station. - -To Crumb she had said nothing about her mother. This was a part of her -life that was too sacred to be revealed to the man whom she now loathed -even as she loathed the filthy habit he had tricked her into; but she -could no more give up the one than the other. - -There had been a time when she had fought against the domination of -these twin curses that had been visited upon her, but that time was -over. She knew now that she would never give up morphine--that she -could not if she wanted to, and that she did not want to. The little -bindles of cocaine, morphine, and heroin that she wrapped so deftly -with those slender fingers and marked “C,” “M,” or “H,” according to -their contents, were parts of her life now. The sallow, trembling -creatures who came for them, or to whom she sometimes delivered them, -and who paid her two dollars and a half a bindle, were also parts of -her life. Crumb, too, was a part of her life. She hated the bindles, -she hated the sallow, trembling people, she hated Crumb; but still she -clung to them, for how else was she to get the drug without which she -could not live? - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -It was May. The rainy season was definitely over. A few April showers -had concluded it. The Ganado hills showed their most brilliant greens. -The March pigs were almost ready to wean. White-faced calves and black -colts and gray colts surveyed this beautiful world through soft, dark -eyes, and were filled with the joy of living as they ran beside their -gentle mothers. A stallion neighed from the stable corral, and from the -ridge behind Jackknife Cañon the Emperor of Ganado answered him. - -A girl and a man sat in the soft grass beneath the shade of a live -oak upon the edge of a low bluff in the pasture where the brood mares -grazed with their colts. Their horses were tied to another tree near -by. The girl held a bunch of yellow violets in her hand, and gazed -dreamily down the broad cañon toward the valley. The man sat a little -behind her and gazed at the girl. For a long time neither spoke. - -“You cannot be persuaded to give it up, Grace?” he asked at last. - -She shook her head. - -“I should never be happy until I had tried it,” she replied. - -“Of course,” he said, “I know how you feel about it. I feel the same -way. I want to get away--away from the deadly stagnation and sameness -of this life; but I am going to try to stick it out for father’s sake, -and I wish that you loved me enough to stick it out for mine. I believe -that together we could get enough happiness out of life here to make -up for what we are denied of real living, such as only a big city can -offer. Then, when father is gone, we could go and live in the city--in -any city that we wanted to live in--Los Angeles, Chicago, New York, -London, Paris--anywhere.” - -“It isn’t that I don’t love you enough, Custer,” said the girl. “I love -you too much to want you to marry just a little farmer girl. When I -come to you, I want you to be proud of me. Don’t talk about the time -when your father will have gone. It seems wicked. He would not want you -to stay if he knew how you felt about it.” - -“You do not know,” he replied. “Ever since I was a little boy he has -counted on this--on my staying on and working with him. He wants us all -to be together always. When Eva marries, he will build her a home on -Ganado. You have already helped with the plan for ours. You know it is -his dream, but you cannot know how much it means to him. It would not -kill him if his dream was spoiled, but it would take so much happiness -out of his life that I cannot bring myself to do it. It is not a matter -of money, but of sentiment and love. If Ganado were wiped off the face -of the earth to-morrow, we would still have all the money that we need; -but he would never be happy again, for his whole life is bound up in -the ranch and the dream that he has built around it. It is peculiar, -too, that such a man as he should be so ruled by sentiment. You know -how practical he is, and sometimes hard--yet I have seen the tears come -to his eyes when he spoke of his love for Ganado.” - -“I know,” she said, and they were silent again for a time. “You are -a good son, Custer,” she said presently. “I wouldn’t have you any -different. I am not so good a daughter. Mother does not want me to go. -It is going to make her very unhappy, and yet I am going. The man who -loves me does not want me to go. It is going to make him very unhappy, -and yet I am going. It seems very selfish; but, oh, Custer, I cannot -help but feel that I am right! It seems to me that I have a duty to -perform, and that this is the only way I can perform it. Perhaps I am -not only silly, but sometimes I feel that I am called by a higher power -to give myself for a little time to the world, that the world may be -happier and, I hope, a little better. You know I have always felt that -the stage was one of the greatest powers for good in all the world, and -now I believe that some day the screen will be an even greater power -for good. It is with the conviction that I may help toward this end -that I am so eager to go. You will be very glad and very happy when I -come back, that I did not listen to your arguments.” - -“I hope you are right, Grace,” Custer Pennington said. - - * * * * * - -On a rustic seat beneath the new leaves of an umbrella tree a girl -and a boy sat beside the upper lily pond on the south side of the -hill below the ranch house. The girl held a spray of Japanese quince -blossoms in her hand, and gazed dreamily at the water splashing lazily -over the rocks into the pond. The boy sat beside her and gazed at the -girl. For a long time neither spoke. - -“Won’t you please say yes?” whispered the boy presently. - -“How perfectly, terribly silly you are!” she replied. - -“I am not silly,” he said. “I am twenty, and you are almost eighteen. -It’s time that we were marrying and settling down.” - -“On what?” she demanded. - -“Well, we won’t need much at first. We can live at home with mother,” -he explained, “until I sell a few stories.” - -“How perfectly gorgeristic!” she cried. - -“Don’t make fun of me! You wouldn’t if you loved me,” he pouted. - -“I _do_ love you, silly! But whatever in the world put the dapper -little idea into your head that I wanted to be supported by my -mother-in-law?” - -“Mother-in-law!” protested the boy. “You ought to be ashamed to speak -disrespectfully of my mother.” - -“You quaint child!” exclaimed the girl, laughing gayly. “Just as -if I would speak disrespectfully of Aunt Mae, when I love her so -splendiferously! Isn’t she going to be my mother-in-law?” - -The boy’s gloom vanished magically. - -“There!” he cried. “We’re engaged! You’ve said it yourself. You’ve -proposed, and I accept you. Yes, sure--she’s going to be your -mother-in-law!” - -Eva flushed. - -“I never said anything of the kind. How perfectly idiotical!” - -“But you did say it. You proposed to me. I’m going to announce the -engagement--‘Mrs. Mae Evans announces the engagement of her son, Guy -Thackeray, to Miss Eva Pennington.’” - -“Funeral notice later,” snapped the girl, glaring at him. - -“Aw, come, now, you needn’t get mad at me. I was only fooling; but -wouldn’t it be great, Ev? We could always be together then, and I could -write and you could--could----” - -“Wash dishes,” she suggested. - -The light died from his eyes, and he dropped them sadly to the ground. - -“I’m sorry I’m poor,” he said. “I didn’t think you cared about that, -though.” - -She laid a brown hand gently over his. - -“You know I don’t care,” she said. “I am a catty old thing. I’d just -love it if we had a little place all our very own--just a teeny, weeny -bungalow. I’d help you with your work, and keep hens, and have a little -garden with onions and radishes and everything, and we wouldn’t have -to buy anything from the grocery store, and a bank account, and one -sow; and when we drove into the city people would say, ‘There goes Guy -Thackeray Evans, the famous author, but I wonder where his wife got -that hat!’” - -“Oh, Ev!” he cried laughing. “You never can be serious more than two -seconds, can you?” - -“Why should I be?” she inquired. “And anyway, I was. It really would -be elegantiferous if we had a little place of our own; but my husband -has got to be able to support me, Guy. He’d lose his self-respect if he -didn’t; and then, if he lost his, how could I respect him? You’ve got -to have respect on both sides, or you can’t have love and happiness.” - -His face grew stern with determination. - -“I’ll get the money,” he said; but he did not look at her. “But now -that Grace is going away, mother will be all alone if I leave, too. -Couldn’t we live with her for a while?” - -“Papa and mama have always said that it was the worst thing a young -married couple could do,” she replied. “We could live near her, and see -her every day; but I don’t think we should all live together. Really, -though, do you think Grace is going? It seems just too awful.” - -“I am afraid she is,” he replied sadly. “Mother is all broken up about -it; but she tries not to let Grace know.” - -“I can’t understand it,” said the girl. “It seems to me a selfish thing -to do, and yet Grace has always been so sweet and generous. No matter -how much I wanted to go, I don’t believe I could bring myself to do it, -knowing how terribly it would hurt papa. Just think, Guy--it is the -first break, except for the short time we were away at school, since we -have been born. We have all lived here always, it seems, your family -and mine, like one big family; but after Grace goes it will be the -beginning of the end. It will never be the same again.” - -There was a note of seriousness and sadness in her voice that sounded -not at all like Eva Pennington. The boy shook his head. - -“It is too bad,” he said; “but Grace is so sure she is right--so -positive that she has a great future before her, and that we shall all -be so proud of her--that sometimes I am convinced myself.” - -“I hope she is right,” said the girl, and then, with a return to her -joyous self: “Oh, wouldn’t it be spiffy if she really does become -famous! I can see just how puffed up we shall all be when we read the -reviews of her pictures, like this--‘Miss Grace Evans, the famous star, -has quite outdone her past successes in the latest picture, in which -she is ably supported by such well known actors as Thomas Meighan, -Wallace Reid, Gloria Swanson, and Mary Pickford.’” - -“Why slight Douglas Fairbanks and Charlie Chaplin?” suggested Guy. - -The girl rose. - -“Come on!” she said. “Let’s have a look at the pools--it isn’t a -perfect day unless I’ve seen fish in every pool. Do you remember how we -used to watch and watch and watch for the fish in the lower pools, and -run as fast as we could to be the first up to the house to tell if we -saw them, and how many?” - -“And do you remember the little turtles, and how wild they got?” he put -in. “Sometimes we wouldn’t see them for weeks, and then we’d get just -a glimpse, so that we knew they were still there. Then, after a while, -we never saw them again, and how we used to wonder and speculate as to -what had become of them!” - -“And do you remember the big water snake we found in the upper pool, -and how Cus used to lie in wait for him with his little twenty-two?” - -“Cus was always the hunter. How we used to trudge after him up and down -those steep hills there in the cow pasture, while he hunted ground -squirrels, and how mad he’d get if we made any noise! Gee, Ev, those -were the good old days!” - -“And how we used to fight, and what a nuisance Cus thought me; but he -always asked me to go along, just the same. He’s a wonderful brother, -Guy!” - -“He’s a wonderful man, Ev,” replied the boy. “You don’t half know how -wonderful he is. He’s always thinking of some one else. Right now I’ll -bet he’s eating his heart out because Grace is going away; and he can’t -go, just because he’s thinking more of some one’s else happiness than -his own.” - -“What do you mean?” she asked. - -“He wants to go to the city. He wants to get into some business there; -but he won’t go, because he knows your father wants him here.” - -“Do you really think that?” - -“I know it,” he said. - -They walked on in silence along the winding pathways among the -flower-bordered pools, to stop at last beside the lower one. This -had originally been a shallow wading pool for the children when they -were small, but it was now given over to water hyacinth and brilliant -fantails. - -“There!” said the girl, presently. “I have seen fish in each pool.” - -“And you can go to bed with a clear conscience to-night,” he laughed. - -To the west of the lower pool there were no trees to obstruct their -view of the hills that rolled down from the mountains to form the -western wall of the cañon in which the ranch buildings and cultivated -fields lay. As the two stood there, hand in hand, the boy’s eyes -wandered lovingly over the soft, undulating lines of these lower hills, -with their parklike beauty of greensward dotted with wild walnut -trees. As he looked he saw, for a brief moment, the figure of a man on -horseback passing over the hollow of a saddle before disappearing upon -the southern side. - -Small though the distant figure was, and visible but for a moment, the -boy recognized the military carriage of the rider. He glanced quickly -at the girl to note if she had seen, but it was evident that she had -not. - -“Well, Ev,” he said, “I guess I’ll be toddling.” - -“So early?” she demanded. - -“You see I’ve got to get busy, if I’m going to get the price of that -teeny, weeny bungalow,” he explained. “Now that we’re engaged, you -might kiss me good-by--eh?” - -“We’re not engaged, and I’ll not kiss you good-by or good anything -else. I don’t believe in people kissing until they’re married.” - -“Then why are you always raving about the wonderful kisses Antonio -Moreno, or Milton Sills, or some other poor prune, gives the heroine at -the end of the last reel?” he demanded. - -“Oh, that’s different,” she explained. “Anyway, they’re just going to -get married. When we are just going to get married I’ll let you kiss -me--once a week, _maybe_.” - -“Thanks!” he cried. - -A moment later he swung into the saddle, and with a wave of his hand -cantered off up the cañon. - -“Now what,” said the girl to herself, “is he going up there for? He -can’t make any money back there in the hills. He ought to be headed -straight for home and his typewriter!” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -Across the rustic bridge, and once behind the sycamores at the lower -end of the cow pasture, Guy Evans let his horse out into a rapid -gallop. A few minutes later he overtook a horseman who was moving at a -slow walk farther up the cañon. At the sound of the pounding hoofbeats -behind him, the latter turned in his saddle, reined about and stopped. -The boy rode up and drew in his blowing mount beside the other. - -“Hello, Allen!” he said. - -The man nodded. - -“What’s eatin’ you?” he inquired. - -“I’ve been thinking over that proposition of yours,” explained Evans. - -“Yes?” - -“Yes, I’ve been thinking maybe I might swing it; but are you sure it’s -safe. How do I know you won’t double-cross me?” - -“You don’t know,” replied the other. “All you know is that I got enough -on you to send you to San Quentin. You wouldn’t get nothin’ worse if -you handled the rest of it, an’ you stand to clean up between twelve -and fifteen thousand bucks on the deal. You needn’t worry about me -double-crossin’ you. What good would it do me? I ain’t got nothin’ -against you, kid. If you don’t double-cross me I won’t double-cross -you; but look out for that cracker-fed dude your sister’s goin’ to -hitch to. If he ever butts in on this I’ll croak him an’ send you to -San Quentin, if I swing for it. Do you get me?” - -Evans nodded. - -“I’ll go in on it,” he said, “because I need the money; but don’t you -bother Custer Pennington--get that straight. I’d go to San Quentin and -I’d swing myself before I’d stand for that. Another thing, and then -we’ll drop that line of chatter--you couldn’t send me to San Quentin -or anywhere else. I bought a few bottles of hootch from you, and there -isn’t any judge or jury going to send me to San Quentin for that.” - -“You don’t know what you done,” said Allen, with a grin. “There’s a -thousand cases of bonded whisky hid back there in the hills, an’ you -engineered the whole deal at this end. Maybe you didn’t have nothin’ to -do with stealin’ it from a government bonded warehouse in New York; but -you must’a’ knowed all about it, an’ it was you that hired me and the -other three to smuggle it off the ship and into the hills.” - -Evans was staring at the man in wide-eyed incredulity. - -“How do you get that way?” he asked derisively. - -“They’s four of us to swear to it,” said Allen; “an’ how many you got -to swear you didn’t do it?” - -“Why, it’s a rotten frame-up!” exclaimed Evans. - -“Sure it’s a frame-up,” agreed Allen; “but we won’t use it if you -behave yourself properly.” - -Evans looked at the man for a long minute--dislike and contempt -unconcealed upon his face. - -“I guess,” he said presently, “that I don’t need any twelve thousand -dollars that bad, Allen. We’ll call this thing off, as far as I am -concerned. I’m through, right now. Good-by!” - -He wheeled his horse to ride away. - -“Hold on there, young feller!” said Allen. “Not so quick! You may think -you’re through, but you’re not. We need you, and, anyway, you know too -damned much for your health. You’re goin’ through with this. We got -some other junk up there that there’s more profit in than what there is -in booze, and it’s easier to handle. We know where to get rid of it; -but the booze we can’t handle as easy as you can, and so you’re goin’ -to handle it.” - -“Who says I am?” - -“_I_ do,” returned Allen, with an ugly snarl. “You’ll handle it, or -I’ll do just what I said I’d do, and I’ll do it _pronto_. How’d you -like your mother and that Pennington girl to hear all I’d have to say?” - -The boy sat with scowling, thoughtful brows for a long minute. From -beneath a live oak, on the summit of a low bluff, a man discovered -them. He had been sitting there talking with a girl. Suddenly he looked -up. - -“Why, there’s Guy,” he said. “Who’s that with--why, it’s that fellow -Allen! What’s he doing up here?” He rose to his feet. “You stay here a -minute, Grace. I’m going down to see what that fellow wants. I can’t -understand Guy.” - -He untied the Apache and mounted, while below, just beyond the pasture -fence, the boy turned sullenly toward Allen. - -“I’ll go through with it this once,” he said. “You’ll bring it down on -burros at night?” - -The other nodded affirmatively. - -“Where do you want it?” he asked. - -“Bring it to the west side of the old hay barn--the one that stands on -our west line. When will you come?” - -“To-day’s Tuesday. We’ll bring the first lot Friday night, about twelve -o’clock; and after that every Friday the same time. You be ready to -settle every Friday for what you’ve sold during the week--_sabe?_” - -“Yes,” replied Evans. “That’s all, then”; and he turned and rode back -toward the rancho. - -Allen was continuing on his way toward the hills when his attention -was again attracted by the sound of hoofbeats. Looking to his left, he -saw a horseman approaching from inside the pasture. He recognized both -horse and rider at once, but kept sullenly on his way. - -Pennington rode up to the opposite side of the fence along which ran -the trail that Allen followed. - -“What are you doing here, Allen?” he asked in a not unkindly tone. - -“Mindin’ my own business, like you better,” retorted the ex-stableman. - -“You have no business back here on Ganado,” said Pennington. “You’ll -have to get off the property.” - -“The hell I will!” exclaimed Allen. - -At the same time he made a quick movement with his right hand; but -Pennington made a quicker. - -“That kind of stuff don’t go here, Allen,” said the younger man, -covering the other with a forty-five. “Now turn around and get off the -place, and don’t come on it again. I don’t want any trouble with you.” - -Without a word, Allen reined his horse about and rode down the cañon; -but there was murder in his heart. Pennington watched him until he was -out of revolver range, and then turned and rode back to Grace Evans. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Beneath the cool shadows of the north porch the master of Ganado, -booted and spurred, rested after a long ride in the hot sun, sipping -a long, cool glass of peach brandy and orange juice, and talking with -his wife. A broad barley field lay below them, stretching to the State -highway half a mile to the north. The yellowing heads of the grain -stood motionless beneath the blazing sun. Inside the myriad kernels the -milk was changing into dough. It would not be long now, barring fogs, -before that gorgeous pageant of prosperity would be falling in serried -columns into the maw of the binder. - -“We’re going to have a bully crop of barley this year, Julia,” remarked -the colonel, fishing a small piece of ice from his glass. “Do you know, -I’m beginning to believe this is better than a mint julep!” - -“Heavens, Custer--whisper it!” admonished his wife. “Just suppose -the shades of some of your ancestors, or mine, should overhear such -sacrilege!” - -The colonel chuckled. - -“Is it old age, or has this sunny land made me effeminate?” he queried. -“It’s quite a far cry from an old-fashioned mint julep to this -home-made wine and orange juice. You can’t call it brandy--it hasn’t -enough of what the boys call ‘kick’ to be entitled to that honor; but I -like it. Yes, sir, that’s bully barley--there isn’t any better in the -foothills!” - -“The oats look good, too,” said Mrs. Pennington. “I haven’t noticed the -slightest sign of rust.” - -“That’s the result of the boy’s trip to Texas last summer,” said -the colonel proudly. “Went down there himself and selected all the -seed--didn’t take anybody’s word for it. Genuine Texas rustproof oats -was what he went for and what he got. I don’t know what I’d do without -him, Julia. It’s wonderful to see one’s dreams come true! I’ve been -dreaming for years of the time when my boy and I would work together -and make Ganado even more wonderful than it ever was before; and now my -dream’s a reality. It’s great, I tell you--it’s great! Is there another -glass of this Ganado elixir in that pitcher, Julia?” - -They were silent then for a few minutes, the colonel sipping his -“elixir,” and Mrs. Pennington, with her book face down upon her lap, -gazing out across the barley and the broad valley and the distant -hills--into the future, perhaps, or back into the past. - -It had been an ideal life that they had led here--a life of love and -sunshine and happiness. There had been nothing to vex her soul as she -reveled in the delight of her babies, watching them grow into sturdy -children and then develop into clean young manhood and womanhood. But -growing with the passing years had been the dread of that day when the -first break would come, as come she knew it must. - -She knew the dream that her husband had built, and that with it he had -purposely blinded his eyes and dulled his ears to the truth which the -mother heart would have been glad to deny, but could not. Some day one -of the children would go away, and then the other. It was only right -and just that it should be so, for as they two had built their own home -and their own lives and their little family circle, so their children -must do even as they. - -It was going to be hard on them both, much harder on the father, -because of that dream that had become an obsession. Mrs. Pennington -feared that it might break his spirit, for it would leave him nothing -to plan for and hope for as he had planned and hoped for this during -the twenty-two years that they had spent upon Ganado. - -Now that Grace was going to the city, how could they hope to keep -their boy content upon the ranch? She knew he loved the old place, but -he was entitled to see the world and to make his own place in it--not -merely to slide spinelessly into the niche that another had prepared -for him. - -“I am worried about the boy,” she said presently. - -“How? In what way?” he asked. - -“He will be very blue and lonely after Grace goes,” she said. - -“Don’t talk to me about it!” cried the colonel, banging his glass down -upon the table and rising to his feet. “It makes me mad just to think -of it. I can’t understand how Grace can want to leave this beautiful -world to live in a damned city! She’s crazy! What’s her mother thinking -about, to let her go?” - -“You must remember, dear,” said his wife soothingly, “that every one -is not so much in love with the country as you, and that these young -people have their own careers to carve in the way they think best. It -would not be right to try to force them to live the way we like to -live.” - -“Damned foolishness, that’s what it is!” he blustered. “An actress! -What does she know about acting?” - -“She is beautiful, cultured, and intelligent. There is no reason why -she should not succeed and make a great name for herself. Why shouldn’t -she be ambitious, dear? We should encourage her, now that she has -determined to go. It would help her, for she loves us all--she loves -you as a daughter might, for you have been like a father to her ever -since Mr. Evans died.” - -“Oh, pshaw, Julia!” the colonel exclaimed. “I love Grace--you know I -do. I suppose it’s because I love her that I feel so about this. Maybe -I’m jealous of the city, to think that it has weaned her away from us. -I don’t mean all I say, sometimes; but really I am broken up at the -thought of her going. It seems to me that it may be just the beginning -of the end of the beautiful life that we have all led here for so many -years.” - -“Have you ever thought that some day our own children may want to go?” -she asked. - -“I won’t think about it!” he exploded. - -“I hope you won’t have to,” she said; “but it’s going to be pretty hard -on the boy after Grace goes.” - -“Do you think he’ll want to go?” the colonel asked. His voice sounded -suddenly strange and pleading, and there was a suggestion of pain and -fear in his eyes that she had never seen there before in all the years -that she had known him. “Do you think he’ll want to go?” he repeated in -a voice that no longer sounded like his own. - -“Stranger things have happened,” she replied, forcing a smile, “than a -young man wanting to go out into the world and win his spurs!” - -“Let’s not talk about it, Julia,” the colonel said presently. “You are -right, but I don’t want to think about it. When it comes will be time -enough to meet it. If my boy wants to go, he shall go--and he shall -never know how deeply his father is hurt!” - -“There they are now,” said Mrs. Pennington. “I hear them in the patio. -Children!” she called. “Here we are on the north porch!” - -They came through the house together, brother and sister, their arms -about each other. - -“Cus says I am too young to get married,” exclaimed the girl. - -“Married!” ejaculated the colonel. “You and Guy talking of getting -married? What are you going to live on, child?” - -“On that hill back there.” - -She jerked her thumb in a direction that was broadly south by west. - -“That will give them two things to live on,” suggested the boy, -grinning. - -“What do you mean--two things?” demanded the girl. - -“The hill and father,” her brother replied, dodging. - -She pursued him, and he ran behind his mother’s chair; but at last she -caught him, and, seizing his collar, pretended to chastise him, until -he picked her up bodily from the floor and kissed her. - -“Pity the poor goof she ensnares!” pleaded Custer, addressing his -parents. “He will have three avenues of escape--being beaten to death, -starved to death, or talked to death.” - -Eva clapped a hand over his mouth. - -“Now listen to me,” she cried. “Guy and I are going to build a teeny, -weeny bungalow on that hill, all by ourselves, with a white tile splash -board in the kitchen, and one of those broom closets that turn into an -ironing board, and a very low, overhanging roof, almost flat, and a -shower, and a great big living room where we can take the rugs up and -dance, and a spiffy little garden in the back yard, and chickens, and -Chinese rugs, and he is going to have a study all to himself where he -writes his stories, an----” - -At last she had to stop and join in the laughter. - -“I think you are all mean,” she added. “You always laugh at me!” - -“With you, little jabberer,” corrected the colonel; “for you were made -to be laughed with and kissed.” - -“Then kiss me,” she exclaimed, and sprang into his lap, at the imminent -risk of deluging them both with “elixir”--a risk which the colonel, -through long experience of this little daughter of his, was able to -minimize by holding the glass at arm’s length as she dived for him. - -“And when are you going to be married?” he asked. - -“Oh, not for ages and ages!” she cried. - -“But are you and Guy engaged?” - -“Of course not!” - -“Then why in the world all this talk about getting married?” he -inquired, his eyes twinkling. - -“Well, can’t I talk?” she demanded. - -“Talk? I’ll say she can!” exclaimed her brother. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Two weeks later Grace Evans left for Hollywood and fame. She would -permit no one to accompany her, saying that she wanted to feel that -from the moment she left home she had made her own way, unassisted, -toward her goal. - -Hers was the selfish egotism that is often to be found in otherwise -generous natures. She had never learned the sweetness and beauty of -sharing--of sharing her ambitions, her successes, and her failures, -too, with those who loved her. If she won to fame, the glory would be -hers; nor did it once occur to her that she might have shared that -pride and pleasure with others by accepting their help and advice. If -she failed, they would not have even the sad sweetness of sharing her -disappointment. - -Over two homes there hovered that evening a pall of gloom that no -effort seemed able to dispel. In the ranch house on Ganado they made -a brave effort at cheerfulness on Custer Pennington’s account. They -did not dance that evening, as was their custom, nor could they find -pleasure in the printed page when they tried to read. Bridge proved -equally impossible. - -Finally Custer rose, announcing that he was going to bed. Kissing them -all good night, as had been the custom since childhood, he went to his -room, and tears came to the mother’s eyes as she noted the droop in the -broad shoulders as he walked from the room. - -The girl came then and knelt beside her, taking the older woman’s hand -in hers and caressing it. - -“I feel so sorry for Cus,” she said. “I believe that none of us realize -how hard he is taking this. He told me yesterday that it was going to -be just the same as if Grace was dead, for he knew she would never be -satisfied here again, whether she succeeded or failed. I think he has -definitely given up all hope of their being married.” - -“Oh, no, dear, I am sure he is wrong,” said her mother. “The engagement -has not been broken. In fact Grace told me only a few days ago that -she hoped her success would come quickly, so that she and Custer might -be married the sooner. The dear girl wants us to be proud of our new -daughter.” - -“My God!” ejaculated the colonel, throwing his book down and rising to -pace the floor. “Proud of her! Weren’t we already proud of her? Will -being an actress make her any dearer to us? Of all the damn fool ideas!” - -“Custer! Custer! You mustn’t swear so before Eva,” reproved Mrs. -Pennington. - -“Swear?” he demanded. “Who in hell is swearing?” - -A merry peal of laughter broke from the girl, nor could her mother -refrain from smiling. - -“It isn’t swearing when popsy says it,” cried the girl. “My gracious, -I’ve heard it all my life, and you always say the same thing to him, -as if I’d never heard a single little cuss word. Anyway, I’m going to -bed now, popsy, so that you won’t contaminate me. According to momsy’s -theory she should curse like a pirate by this time, after twenty-five -years of it!” - -She kissed them, leaving them alone in the little family sitting room. - -“I hope the boy won’t take it too hard,” said the colonel after a -silence. - -“I am afraid he has been drinking a little too much lately,” said the -mother. “I only hope his loneliness for Grace won’t encourage it.” - -“I hadn’t noticed it,” said the colonel. - -“He never shows it much,” she replied. “An outsider would not know that -he had been drinking at all when I can see that he has had more than he -should.” - -“Don’t worry about that, dear,” said the colonel. “A Pennington never -drinks more than a gentleman should. His father and his grandsires, on -both sides, always drank, but there has never been a drunkard in either -family. I wouldn’t give two cents for him if he couldn’t take a man’s -drink like a man; but he’ll never go too far. My boy couldn’t!” - -The pride and affection in the words brought the tears to the mother’s -eyes. She wondered if there had ever been father and son like these -before--each with such implicit confidence in the honor, the integrity, -and the manly strength of the other. _His boy_ couldn’t go wrong! - -Custer Pennington entered his room, lighted a reading lamp beside -a deep, wide-armed chair, selected a book from a rack, and settled -himself comfortably for an hour of pleasure and inspiration. But he did -not open the book. Instead, he sat staring blindly at the opposite wall. - -Directly in front of him hung a water color of the Apache, done by -Eva, and given to him the previous Christmas; a framed enlargement of -a photograph of a prize Hereford bull; a pair of rusty Spanish spurs; -and a frame of ribbons won by the Apache at various horse shows. -Custer saw none of these, but only a gloomy vista of dreary years -stretching through the dead monotony of endless ranch days that were -all alike--years that he must travel alone. - -She would never come back, and why should she? In the city, in that new -life, she would meet men of the world--men of broader culture than his, -men of wealth--and she would be sought after. They would have more to -offer her than he, and sooner or later she would realize it. He could -not expect to hold her. - -Custer laid aside his book. - -“What’s the use?” he asked himself. - -Rising, he went to the closet and brought out a bottle. He had not -intended drinking. On the contrary, he had determined very definitely -not to drink that night; but again he asked himself the old question -which, under certain circumstances of life and certain conditions of -seeming hopelessness, appears unanswerable: - -“What is the use?” - -It is a foolish question, a meaningless question, a dangerous question. -What is the use of what? Of combating fate--of declining to do the -thing we ought not to do--of doing the thing we should do? It is not -even a satisfactory means of self-justification; but amid the ruins of -his dreams it was sufficient excuse for Custer Pennington’s surrender -to the craving of an appetite which was daily becoming stronger. - -The next morning he did not ride before breakfast with the other -members of the family, nor, in fact, did he breakfast until long after -they. - - * * * * * - -On the evening of the day of Grace’s departure Mrs. Evans retired -early, complaining of a headache. Guy Evans sought to interest himself -in various magazines, but he was restless and too ill at ease to remain -long absorbed. At frequent intervals he consulted his watch, and as -the evening wore on he made numerous trips to his room, where he had -recourse to a bottle like the one with which Custer Pennington was -similarly engaged. - -It was Friday--the second Friday since Guy had entered into an -agreement with Allen; and as midnight approached his nervousness -increased. - -Young Evans, while scarcely to be classed as a strong character, was -more impulsive than weak, nor was he in any sense of the word vicious. -While he knew that he was breaking the law, he would have been terribly -shocked at the merest suggestion that his acts placed upon him the -brand of criminality. Like many another, he considered the Volstead -Act the work of an organized and meddlesome minority, rather than the -real will of the people. There was, in his opinion, no immorality in -circumventing the Eighteenth Amendment whenever and wherever possible. - -The only fly in the ointment was the fact that the liquor in which he -was at present trafficking had been stolen; but he attempted to square -this with his conscience by the oft reiterated thought that he did -not know it to be stolen goods--they couldn’t prove that he knew it. -However, the fly remained. It must have been one of those extremely -obnoxious, buzzy flies, if one might judge by the boy’s increasing -nervousness. - -Time and again, during that long evening, he mentally reiterated his -determination that once this venture was concluded, he would never -embark upon another of a similar nature. The several thousand dollars -which it would net him would make it possible for him to marry Eva and -settle down to a serious and uninterrupted effort at writing--the one -vocation for which he believed himself best fitted by inclination and -preparation; but never again, he assured himself repeatedly, would he -allow himself to be cajoled or threatened into such an agreement. - -He disliked and feared Allen, whom he now knew to be a totally -unscrupulous man, and his introduction, the preceding Friday, to the -confederates who had brought down the first consignment of whisky -from the mountains had left him fairly frozen with apprehension as he -considered the type of ruffians with whom he was associated. During the -intervening week he had been unable to concentrate his mind upon his -story writing even to the extent of a single word of new material. He -had worried and brooded, and he had drunk more than usual. - -As he sat waiting for the arrival of the second consignment, he -pictured the little cavalcade winding downward along hidden trails -through the chaparral of dark, mountain ravines. His nervousness -increased as he realized the risk of discovery some time during the -six months that it would take to move the contraband to the edge of -the valley in this way--thirty-six cases at a time, packed out on six -burros. - -He had little fear of the failure of his plan for hiding the liquor in -the old hay barn and moving it out again the following day. For three -years there had been stored in one end of the barn some fifty tons of -baled melilotus. It had been sown as a cover crop by a former foreman, -and allowed to grow to such proportions as to render the plowing of it -under a practical impossibility. As hay it was in little or no demand, -but there was a possibility of a hay shortage that year. It was against -this possibility that Evans had had it baled and stored away in the -barn, where it had lain ever since, awaiting an offer that would at -least cover the cost of growing, harvesting, and baling. A hard day’s -work had so rearranged the bales as to form a hidden chamber in the -center of the pile, ingress to which could readily be had by removing a -couple of bales near the floor. - -A little after eleven o’clock Guy left the house and made his way to -the barn, where he paced nervously to and fro in the dark interior. He -hoped that the men would come early and get the thing over, for it was -this part of the operation that seemed most fraught with danger. - -The disposal of the liquor was effected by daylight, and the very -boldness and simplicity of the scheme seemed to assure its safety. A -large motor truck--such trucks are constantly seen upon the roads of -southern California, loaded with farm and orchard products and bound -cityward--drove up to the hay barn on the morning after the receipt of -the contraband. It backed into the interior, and half an hour later -it emerged with a small load of baled melilotus. That there were -thirty-six cases of bonded whisky concealed by the innocent-looking -bales of melilotus Mr. Volstead himself could not have guessed; but -such was the case. - -Where it went to after it left his hands Guy Evans did not know or want -to know. The man who bought it from him owned and drove the truck. He -paid Evans six dollars a quart in currency, and drove away, taking, -besides the load on the floor of the truck, a much heavier burden from -the mind of the young man. - -The whisky was in Guy’s possession for less than twelve hours a week; -but during those twelve hours he earned the commission of a dollar -a bottle that Allen allowed him, for his great fear was that sooner -or later some one would discover and follow the six burros as they -came down to the barn. There were often campers in the hills. During -the deer season, if they did not have it all removed by that time, -they would be almost certain of discovery, since every courageous -ribbon-counter clerk in Los Angeles hied valiantly to the mountains -with a high-powered rifle, to track the ferocious deer to its lair. - -At a quarter past twelve Evans heard the sounds for which he had been -so expectantly waiting. He opened a small door in the end of the hay -barn, through which there filed in silence six burdened burros, led by -one swarthy Mexican and followed by another. Quietly the men unpacked -the burros and stored the thirty-six cases in the chamber beneath the -hay. Inside this same chamber, by the light of a flash lamp, Evans -counted out to one of them the proceeds from the sale of the previous -week. The whole transaction consumed less than half an hour, and was -carried on with the exchange of less than a dozen words. As silently as -they had come the men departed, with their burros, into the darkness -toward the hills, and young Evans made his way to his room and to bed. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -As the weeks passed, the routine of ranch life weighed more and more -heavily on Custer Pennington. The dull monotony of it took the zest -from the things that he had formerly regarded as the pleasures of -existence. The buoyant Apache no longer had power to thrill. The long -rides were but obnoxious duties to be performed. The hills had lost -their beauty. - -Custer attributed his despondency to an unkind face that had thwarted -his ambitions. He thought that he hated Ganado; and he thought, too--he -honestly thought--that freedom to battle for success in the heart of -some great city would bring happiness and content. For all that, he -performed his duties and bore himself as cheerfully as ever before the -other members of his family, though his mother and sister saw that -when he thought he was alone and unobserved he often sat with drooping -shoulders, staring at the ground, in an attitude of dejection which -their love could scarce misinterpret. - -The frequent letters that came from Grace during her first days in -Hollywood had breathed a spirit of hopefulness and enthusiasm that -might have proven contagious, but for the fact that he saw in her -success a longer and probably a permanent separation. If she should be -speedily discouraged, she might return to the foothills and put the -idea of a career forever from her mind; but if she received even the -slightest encouragement, Custer was confident that nothing could wean -her from her ambition. He was the more sure of this because in his own -mind he could picture no inducement sufficiently powerful to attract -any one to return to the humdrum existence of the ranch. Better be a -failure in the midst of life, he put it to himself, than a success in -the unpeopled spaces of its outer edge. - -Ensuing weeks brought fewer letters, and there was less of enthusiasm, -though hope was still unquenched. She had not yet met the right people, -Grace said, and there was a general depression in the entire picture -industry. Universal had a new manager, and there was no guessing -what his policy would be; Goldwyn had laid off half their force; -Robertson-Cole had shut down. She was sure, though, that things would -brighten up later, and that she would have her chance. Would they -please tell her how Senator was, and give him her love, and kiss the -Apache for her? There was just a note, perhaps, of homesickness in some -of her letters; and gradually they became fewer and shorter. - -The little gatherings of the neighbors at Ganado continued. Other young -people of the valley and the foothills came and danced, or swam, or -played tennis. Their elders came, too, equally enjoying the hospitality -of the Penningtons; and among these was the new owner of the little -orchard beyond the Evans ranch. - -The Penningtons had found Mrs. Burke a quiet woman of refined tastes, -and the possessor a quiet humor that made her always a welcome -addition to the family circle. That she had known more of sorrow -than of happiness was evidenced in many ways, but that she had risen -above the petty selfishness of grief was strikingly apparent in her -thoughtfulness for others, her quick sympathy, and the kindliness of -her humor. Whatever ills fate had brought her, they had not left her -soured. - -As she came oftener, and came to know the Penningtons better, she -depended more and more on the colonel for advice in matters pertaining -to her orchard and her finances. Of personal matters she never spoke. -They knew that she had a daughter living in Los Angeles; but of the -girl they knew nothing, for deep in the heart of Mrs. George Burke, who -had been born Charity Cooper, was a strain of Puritanism that could -not look with aught but horror upon the stage and its naughty little -sister, the screen--though in her letters to that loved daughter there -was no suggestion of the pain that the fond heart held because of the -career the girl had chosen. - -Charity Cooper’s youth had been so surrounded by restrictions that at -eighteen she was as unsophisticated as a child of twelve. As a result, -she had easily succumbed to the blandishments of an unscrupulous young -Irish adventurer, who had thought that her fine family connections -indicated wealth. When he learned the contrary, shortly after their -marriage, he promptly deserted her, nor had she seen or heard aught of -him since. Of him she never spoke, and of course the Penningtons never -questioned her. - -At thirty-nine Mrs. George Burke still retained much of the frail -and delicate beauty that had been hers in girlhood. The effort of -moving from her old home and settling the new, followed by the -responsibilities of the unfamiliar and highly technical activities of -orange culture, had drawn heavily upon her always inadequate vitality. -As the Penningtons became better acquainted with her, they began to -feel real concern as to her physical condition; and this concern was -not lessened by the knowledge that she had been giving the matter -serious thought, as was evidenced by her request that the colonel would -permit her to name him as executor of her estate in a will that she was -making. - -While life upon Ganado took its peaceful way, outwardly unruffled, the -girl whose image was in the hearts of them all strove valiantly in the -face of recurring disappointment toward the high goal upon which her -eyes were set. - -If she could only have a chance! How often that half prayer, half cry -of anguish, was in the silent voicing of her thoughts! If she could -only have a chance! - -In the weeks of tramping from studio to studio she had learned much. -For one thing, she had come to know the ruthlessness of a certain type -of man that must and will some day be driven from the industry--that -is, in fact, even now being driven out, though slowly, by the stress of -public opinion and by the example of the men of finer character who are -gradually making a higher code of ethics for the studios. - -She had learned even more from the scores of chance acquaintances who, -through repeated meetings in the outer offices of casting directors, -had become almost friends. Indeed, when she found herself facing the -actuality of one of the more repulsive phases of studio procedure, it -appeared more in the guise of habitude through the many references to -it that she had heard from the lips of her more experienced fellows. - -She was interviewing, for the dozenth time, the casting director of the -K. K. S. Studio, who had come to know her by sight, and perhaps to feel -a little compassion for her--though there are those who will tell you -that casting directors, having no hearts, can never experience so human -an emotion as compassion. - -“I’m sorry, Miss Evans,” he said; “but I haven’t a thing for you -to-day.” As she turned away, he raised his hand. “Wait!” he said. “Mr. -Crumb is casting his new picture himself. He’s out on the lot now. Go -out and see him--he might be able to use you.” - -The girl thanked him and made her way from the office building in -search of Crumb. She stepped over light cables and picked her way -across stages that were littered with the heterogeneous jumble of -countless interior sets. She dodged the assistants of a frantic -technical director who was attempting to transform an African water -hole into a Roman bath in an hour and forty-five minutes. She bumped -against a heavy shipping crate, through the iron-barred end of which -a savage lioness growled and struck at her. Finally she discovered a -single individual who seemed to have nothing to do and who therefore -might be approached with a query as to where Mr. Crumb might be found. -This resplendent idler directed her to an Algerian street set behind -the stages, and as he spoke she recognized him as the leading male -star of the organization, the highest salaried person on the lot. - -A few minutes later she found the man she sought. She had never seen -Wilson Crumb before, and her first impression was a pleasant one, for -he was courteous and affable. She told him that she had been to the -casting director, and that he had said that Mr. Crumb might be able to -use her. As she spoke, the man watched her intently, his eyes running -quickly over her figure without suggestion of offense. - -“What experience have you had?” he asked. - -“Just a few times as an extra,” she replied. - -He shook his head. - -“I am afraid I can’t use you,” he said; “unless”--he hesitated--“unless -you would care to work in the semi-nude, which would necessitate making -a test--in the nude.” - -He waited for her reply. Grace Evans gulped. She could feel a scarlet -flush mounting rapidly until it suffused her entire face. She could not -understand why it was necessary to try her out in any less garmenture -than would pass the censors; but then that is something which no one -can understand. - -Here, possibly, was her opportunity. She had read in the papers that -Wilson Crumb was preparing to make the greatest picture of his career. -She thought of her constant prayer for a chance. Here was a chance, -and yet she hesitated. The brutal, useless condition he had imposed -outraged every instinct of decency and refinement inherent in her, -just as it has outraged the same characteristics in countless other -girls--just as it is doing in other studios in all parts of the country -every day. - -“Is that absolutely essential?” she asked. - -“Quite so,” he replied. - -Still she hesitated. Her chance! If she let it pass, she might as well -pack up and return home. What a little thing to do, after all, when -one really considered it! It was purely professional. There would be -nothing personal in it, if she could only succeed in overcoming her -self-consciousness; but _could_ she do it? - -Again she thought of home. A hundred times, of late, she had wished -that she was back there; but she did not want to go back a failure. It -was that which decided her. - -“Very well,” she said; “but there will not be many there will there?” - -“Only a camera man and myself,” he replied. “If it is convenient, I can -arrange it immediately.” - -Two hours later Grace Evans left the K. K. S. lot. She was to start -work on the morrow at fifty dollars a week for the full period of the -picture. Wilson Crumb had told her that she had a wonderful future, and -that she was fortunate to have fallen in with a director who could make -a great star of her. As she went, she left behind all her self-respect -and part of her natural modesty. - -Wilson Crumb, watching her go, rubbed the ball of his right thumb to -and fro across the back of his left hand, and smiled. - - * * * * * - -The Apache danced along the wagon trail that led back into the hills. -He tugged at the bit and tossed his head impatiently, flecking his -rider’s shirt with foam. He lifted his feet high and twisted and -wriggled like an eel. He wanted to be off, and he wondered what had -come over his old pal that there were no more swift, gay gallops, and -that washes were crossed sedately by way of their gravelly bottoms, -instead of being taken with a flying leap. - -Presently he cocked an eye ahead, as if in search of something. A -moment later he leaped suddenly sidewise, snorting in apparent terror. - -“You old fool!” said Pennington affectionately. - -The horse had shied at a large white bowlder lying beside the wagon -trail. For nearly three years he had shied at it religiously every -time he had passed it. Long before they reached it he always looked -ahead to see if it was still there, and he would have been terribly -disappointed had it been missing. The man always knew that the horse -was going to shy--he would have been disappointed if the Apache had -not played this little game of make-believe. To carry the game to -its conclusion, the rider should gather him and force him snorting -and trembling, right up to the bowlder, talking to him coaxingly and -stroking his arched neck, but at the same time not neglecting to press -the spurs against his glossy sides if he hesitated. - -The Apache loved it. He loved the power that was his as exemplified by -the quick, wide leap aside, and he loved the power of the man to force -his nose to the bowlder--the power that gave him such confidence in his -rider that he would go wherever he was asked to go; but to-day he was -disappointed. His pal did not force him to the bowlder. Instead, Custer -Pennington merely reined him into the trail again beyond it and rode on -up Jackknife Cañon. - -Custer was looking over the pasture. It was late July. The hills were -no longer green, except where their sides and summits were clothed with -chaparral. The lower hills were browning beneath the hot summer sun, -but they were still beautiful, dotted as they were with walnut and live -oak. - -As Pennington rode, he recalled the last time he had ridden through -Jackknife with Grace. She had been gone two months now--it seemed as -many years. She no longer wrote often, and when she did write her -letters were short and unsatisfying. He recalled all the incidents of -that last ride, and they reminded him again of the new-made trail they -had discovered, and of his oft repeated intention of following it to -see where it led. He had never had the time--he did not have the time -to-day. The heifers with their calves were still in this pasture. He -counted them, examined the condition of the feed, and rode back to the -house. - -It was Friday. From the hill beyond Jackknife a man had watched -through binoculars his every move. Three other men had been waiting -below the watcher along the new-made trail. It was well for Pennington -that he had not chosen that day to investigate. - -After he had turned back toward the ranch, the man with the binoculars -descended to the others. - -“It was young Pennington,” he said. The speaker was Allen. “I was -thinking that it would be a fool trick to kill him, unless we have to. -I have a better scheme. Listen--if he ever learns anything that he -shouldn’t know, this is what you are to do, if I am away.” - -Very carefully and in great detail he elaborated his plan. - -“Do you understand?” he asked. - -They did, and they grinned. - -The following night, after the Penningtons had dined, a ranch hand came -up from Mrs. Burke’s to tell them that their new neighbor was quite -ill, and that the woman who did her housework wanted Mrs. Pennington to -come down at once as she was worried about her mistress. - -“We will be right down,” said Colonel Pennington. - -They found Mrs. Burke breathing with difficulty, and the colonel -immediately telephoned for a local doctor. After the physician had -examined her, he came to them in the living room. - -“You had better send for Jones, of Los Angeles,” he said. “It is her -heart. I can do nothing. I doubt if he can; but he is a specialist. -And,” he added, “if she has any near relatives, I think I should notify -them--at once.” - -The housekeeper had joined them, and was wiping tears from her face -with her apron. - -“She has a daughter in Los Angeles,” said the colonel; “but we do not -know her address.” - -“She wrote her to-day, just before this spell,” said the housekeeper. -“The letter hasn’t been mailed yet--here it is.” - -She picked it up from the center table and handed it to the colonel. - -“Miss Shannon Burke, 1580 Panizo Circle, Hollywood,” he read. “I will -take the responsibility of wiring both Miss Burke and Dr. Jones. Can -you get a good nurse locally?” - -The doctor could, and so it was arranged. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Gaza de Lure was sitting at the piano when Crumb arrived at the -bungalow at 1421 Vista del Paso at a little after six in the evening -of the last Saturday in July. The smoke from a half burned cigarette -lying on the ebony case was rising in a thin, indolent column above the -masses of her black hair. Her fingers idled through a dreamy waltz. - -Crumb gave her a surly nod as he closed the door behind him. He was -tired and cross after a hard day at the studio. The girl, knowing that -he would be all right presently, merely returned his nod and continued -playing. He went immediately to his room, and a moment later she heard -him enter the bathroom through another doorway. - -Half an hour later he emerged, shaved, spruce, and smiling. A tiny -powder had effected a transformation, just as she had known that it -would. He came and leaned across the piano, close to her. She was very -beautiful. It seemed to the man that she grew more beautiful and more -desirable each day. The fact that she had been unattainable had fed the -fires of his desire, transforming infatuation into as near a thing to -love as a man of his type can ever feel. - -“Well, little girl!” he cried gayly. “I have good news for you.” - -She smiled a crooked little smile and shook her head. - -“The only good news that I can think of would be that the government -had established a comfortable home for superannuated hop-heads, where -they would be furnished, without cost, with all the snow they could -use.” - -The effects of her last shot were wearing off. He laughed -good-naturedly. - -“Really,” he insisted; “on the level, I’ve got the best news you’ve -heard in moons.” - -“Well?” she asked wearily. - -“Old Battle-Ax has got her divorce,” he announced, referring thus -affectionately to his wife. - -“Well,” said the girl, “that’s good news--for her--if it’s true.” - -Crumb frowned. - -“It’s good news for you,” he said. “It means that I can marry you now.” - -The girl leaned back on the piano bench and laughed aloud. It was not a -pleasant laugh. She laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks. - -“What is there funny about that?” growled the man. “It would mean a lot -to you--respectability, for one thing, and success, for another. The -day you become Mrs. Wilson Crumb I’ll star you in the greatest picture -that was ever made.” - -“Respectability!” she sneered. “Your name would make me respectable, -would it? It would be the insult added to all the injury you have done -me. And as for starring--poof!” She snapped her fingers. “I have but -one ambition, thanks to you, you dirty hound, and that is snow!” She -leaned toward him, her two clenched fists almost shaking in his face. -“Give me all the snow I need,” she cried, “and the rest of them may -have their fame and their laurels!” - -He thought he saw his chance then. Turning away with a shrug, he walked -to the fireplace and lighted a cigarette. - -“Oh, very well!” he said. “If you feel that way about it, all right; -but”--he turned suddenly upon her--“you’ll have to get out of here and -stay out--do you understand? From this day on you can only enter this -house as Mrs. Wilson Crumb, and you can rustle your own dope if you -don’t come back--understand?” - -She looked at him through narrowed lids. She reminded him of a tigress -about to spring, and he backed away. - -“Listen to me,” she commanded in slow, level tones. “In the first -place, you’re lying to me about your wife getting her divorce. I’d have -guessed as much if I hadn’t known, for a hop-head can’t tell the truth; -but I do know. You got a letter from your attorney to-day telling you -that your wife still insists not only that she never will divorce you, -but that she will never allow you a divorce.” - -“You mean to say that you opened one of my letters?” he demanded -angrily. - -“Sure I opened it! I open ’em all--I steam ’em open. What do you -expect,” she almost screamed, “from the thing you have made of me? Do -you expect honor and self-respect, or any other virtue, in a hype?” - -“You get out of here!” he cried. “You get out now--this minute!” - -She rose from the bench and came and stood quite close to him. - -“You’ll see that I get all the snow I want, if I go?” she asked. - -He laughed nastily. - -“You don’t ever get another bindle,” he replied. - -“Wait!” she admonished. “I wasn’t through with what I started to say a -minute ago. You’ve been hitting it long enough, Wilson, to know what -one of our kind will do to get it. You know that either you or I would -sacrifice soul and body if there was no other way. We would lie, or -steal, or--murder! Do you get that, Wilson--_murder_? There is just -one thing that I won’t do, but that one thing is not murder, Wilson. -Listen!” She lifted her face close to his and looked him straight in -the eyes. “If you ever try to take it away from me, or keep it from me, -Wilson, I shall kill you.” - -Her tone was cold and unemotional, and because of that, perhaps, the -threat seemed very real. The man paled. - -“Aw, come!” he cried. “What’s the use of our scrapping? I was only -kidding, anyway. Run along and take a shot--it’ll make you feel better.” - -“Yes,” she said, “I need one; but don’t get it into your head that -_I_ was kidding. I wasn’t. I’d just as lief kill you as not--the only -trouble is that killing’s too damned good for you, Wilson!” - -She walked toward the bathroom door. - -“Oh, by the way,” she said, pausing, “Allen called up this afternoon. -He’s in town, and will be up after dinner. He wants his money.” - -She entered the bathroom and closed the door. Crumb lighted another -cigarette and threw himself into an easy chair, where he sat scowling -at a temple dog on a Chinese rug. - -The Japanese “schoolboy” opened a door and announced dinner, and a -moment later Gaza joined Crumb in the little dining room. They both -smoked throughout the meal, which they scarcely tasted. The girl was -vivacious and apparently happy. She seemed to have forgotten the recent -scene in the living room. She asked questions about the new picture. - -“We’re going to commence shooting Monday,” he told her. Momentarily he -waxed almost enthusiastic. “I’m going to have trouble with that boob -author, though,” he said. “If they’d kick him off the lot, and give me -a little more money, I’d make ’em the greatest picture ever screened!” - -Then he relapsed into brooding silence. - -“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Worrying about Allen?” - -“Not exactly,” he said. “I’ll stall him off again.” - -“He isn’t going to be easy to stall this time,” she observed, “if I -gathered the correct idea from his line of talk over the phone to-day. -I can’t see what you’ve done with all the coin, Wilson.” - -“You got yours, didn’t you?” he growled. - -“Sure, I got mine,” she answered, “and it’s nothing to me what you did -with Allen’s share; but I’m here to tell you that you’ve pulled a boner -if you’ve double-crossed him. I’m not much of a character reader, as -proved by my erstwhile belief that you were a high-minded gentleman; -but it strikes me the veriest boob could see that that man Allen is a -bad actor. You’d better look out for him.” - -“I ain’t afraid of him,” blustered Crumb. - -“No, of course you’re not,” she agreed sarcastically. “You’re a regular -little lion-hearted Reginald, Wilson--that’s what you are!” - -The doorbell rang. - -“There he is now,” said the girl. - -Crumb paled. - -“What makes you think he’s a bad man?” he asked. - -“Look at his face--look at his eyes,” she admonished. “Hard? He’s got a -face like a brick-bat.” - -They rose from the table and entered the living room as the Japanese -opened the front door. The caller was Slick Allen. Crumb rushed forward -and greeted him effusively. - -“Hello, old man!” he cried. “I’m mighty glad to see you. Miss de Lure -told me that you had phoned. Can’t tell you how delighted I am!” - -Allen nodded to the girl, tossed his cap upon a bench near the door, -and crossed to the center of the room. - -“Won’t you sit down, Mr. Allen?” she suggested. - -“I ain’t got much time,” he said, lowering himself into a chair. “I -come up here, Crumb, to get some money.” His cold, fishy eyes looked -straight into Crumb’s. “I come to get all the money there is comin’ to -me. It’s a trifle over ten thousand dollars, as I figure it.” - -“Yes,” said Crumb; “that’s about it.” - -“An’ I don’t want no stallin’ this time, either,” concluded Allen. - -“Stalling!” exclaimed Crumb in a hurt tone. “Who’s been stalling?” - -“You have.” - -“Oh, my dear man!” cried Crumb deprecatingly. “You know that in matters -of this kind one must be circumspect. There were reasons in the past -why it would have been unsafe to transfer so large an amount to you. -It might easily have been traced. I was being watched--a fellow even -shadowed me to the teller’s window in my bank one day. You see how it -is? Neither of us can take chances.” - -“That’s all right, too,” said Allen; “but I’ve been taking chances -right along, and I ain’t been taking them for my health. I been taking -them for the coin, and I want that coin--I want it _pronto_!” - -“You can most certainly have it,” said Crumb. - -“All right!” replied Allen, extending a palm. “Fork it over.” - -“My dear fellow, you don’t think that I have it here, do you?” demanded -Crumb. “You don’t think I keep such an amount as that in my home, I -hope!” - -“Where is it?” - -“In the bank, of course.” - -“Gimme a check.” - -“You must be crazy! Suppose either of us was suspected; that check -would link us up fine. It would be as bad for you as for me. Nothing -doing! I’ll get the cash when the bank opens on Monday. That’s the very -best I can do. If you’d written and let me know you were coming, I -could have had it for you.” - -Allen eyed him for a long minute. - -“Very well,” he said, at last. “I’ll wait till noon Monday.” - -Crumb breathed an inward sigh of profound relief. - -“If you’re at the bank Monday morning, at half past ten, you’ll get the -money,” he said. “How’s the other stuff going? Sorry I couldn’t handle -that, but it’s too bulky.” - -“The hootch? It’s goin’ fine,” replied Allen. “Got a young high-blood -at the edge of the valley handlin’ it--fellow by the name of Evans. He -moves thirty-six cases a week. The kid’s got a good head on him--worked -the whole scheme out himself. Sells the whole batch every week, for -cash, to a guy with a big truck. They cover it with hay, and this -guy hauls it right into the city in broad daylight, unloads it in a -warehouse he’s rented, slips each case into a carton labeled somebody -or other’s soap, and delivers it a case at a time to a bunch of drug -stores. This second guy used to be a drug salesman, and he’s personally -acquainted with every grafter in the business.” - -As he talked, Allen had been studying the girl’s face. She had noticed -it before; but she was used to having men stare at her, and thought -little of it. Finally he addressed her. - -“Do you know, Miss de Lure,” he said, “there’s something mighty -familiar about your face? I noticed it the first time I came here, and -I been studyin’ over it since. It seems like I’d known you somewhere -else, or some one you look a lot like; but I can’t quite get it -straight in my head. I can’t make out where it was, or when, or if it -was you or some one else. I’ll get it some day, though.” - -“I don’t know,” she replied. “I’m sure I never saw you before you came -here with Mr. Crumb the first time.” - -“Well, I don’t know, either,” replied Allen, scratching his head; “but -it’s mighty funny.” He rose. “I’ll be goin’,” he said. “See you Monday -at the bank--ten thirty sharp, Crumb!” - -“Sure, ten thirty sharp,” repeated Crumb, rising. “Oh, say, Allen, -will you do me a favor? I promised a fellow I’d bring him a bindle of -M to-night, and if you’ll hand it to him it’ll save me the trip. It’s -right on your way to the car line. You’ll find him in the alley back of -the Hollywood Drug Store, just west of Cuyhenga on the south side of -Hollywood Boulevard.” - -“Sure, glad to accommodate,” said Allen; “but how’ll I know him?” - -“He’ll be standin’ there, and you walk up and ask him the time. If he -tells you, and then asks if you can change a five, you’ll know he’s -the guy all right. Then you hand him these two ones and a fifty-cent -piece, and he hands you a five-dollar bill. That’s all there is to it. -Inside these two ones I’ll wrap a bindle of M. You can give me the five -Monday morning when I see you.” - -“Slip me the junk,” said Allen. - -The girl had risen, and was putting on her coat and hat. - -“Where are you going--home so early?” asked Crumb. - -“Yes,” she replied. “I’m tired, and I want to write a letter.” - -“I thought you lived here,” said Allen. - -“I’m here nearly all day, but I go home nights,” replied the girl. - -Slick Allen looked puzzled as he left the bungalow. - -“Goin’ my way?” he asked of the girl, as they reached the sidewalk. - -“No,” she replied. “I go in the opposite direction. Good night!” - -“Good night!” said Allen, and turned toward Hollywood Boulevard. - -Inside the bungalow Crumb was signaling central for a connection. - -“Give me the police station on Cuyhenga, near Hollywood,” he said. “I -haven’t time to look up the number. Quick--it’s important!” - -There was a moment’s silence and then: - -“Hello! What is this? Listen! If you want to get a hop-head with the -goods on him--right in the act of peddling--send a dick to the back of -the Hollywood Drug Store, and have him wait there until a guy comes up -and asks what time it is. Then have the dick tell him and say, ‘Can -you change a five?’ That’s the cue for the guy to slip him a bindle of -morphine rolled up in a couple of one-dollar bills. If you don’t send a -dummy, he’ll know what to do next--and you’d better get him there in a -hurry. What? No--oh, just a friend--just a friend.” - -Wilson Crumb hung up the receiver. There was a grin on his face as he -turned away from the instrument. - -“It’s too bad, Allen, but I’m afraid you won’t be at the bank at half -past ten on Monday morning!” he said. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -As Gaza de Lure entered the house in which she roomed, her landlady -came hastily from the living room. - -“Is that you, Miss Burke?” she asked. “Here is a telegram that came for -you just a few minutes ago. I do hope it’s not bad news!” - -The girl took the yellow envelope and tore it open. She read the -message through very quickly and then again slowly, her brows puckered -into a little frown, as if she could not quite understand the meaning -of the words she read. - -“Your mother ill,” the telegram said. “Possibly not serious--doctor -thinks best you come--will meet you morning train.” It was signed -“Custer Pennington.” - -“I do hope it’s not bad news,” repeated the landlady. - -“My mother is ill. They have sent for me,” said the girl. “I wonder if -you would be good enough to call up the S. P. and ask the first train I -can get that stops at Ganado, while I run upstairs and pack my bag?” - -“You poor little dear!” exclaimed the landlady. “I’m so sorry! I’ll -call right away, and then I’ll come up and help you.” - -A few minutes later she came up to say that the first train left at -nine o’clock in the morning. She offered to help pack; but the girl -said there was nothing that she could not do herself. - -“I must go out first for a few minutes,” Gaza told her. “Then I will -come back and finish packing the few things that it will be necessary -to take.” - -When the landlady had left, the girl stood staring dully at the black -traveling bag that she had brought from the closet and placed on her -bed; but she did not see the bag or the few pieces of lingerie that she -had taken from her dresser drawers. She saw only the sweet face of her -mother, and the dear smile that had always shone there to soothe each -childish trouble--the smile that had lighted the girl’s dark days, even -after she had left home. - -For a long time she stood there thinking--trying to realize what -it would mean to her if the worst should come. It could make no -difference, she realized, except that it might perhaps save her mother -from a still greater sorrow. It was the girl who was dead, though -the mother did not guess it; she had been dead for many months. This -hollow, shaking husk was not Shannon Burke--it was not the thing that -the mother had loved. It was almost a sacrilege to take it up there -into the clean country and flaunt it in the face of so sacred a thing -as mother love. - -The girl stepped quickly to a writing desk, and, drawing a key from -her vanity case, unlocked it. She took from it a case containing a -hypodermic syringe and a few small phials; then she crossed the hall to -the bathroom. When she came back, she looked rested and less nervous. -She returned the things to the desk, locked it, and ran downstairs. - -“I will be back in a few minutes,” she called to the landlady. “I shall -have to arrange a few things to-night with a friend.” - -She went directly to the Vista del Paso bungalow. Crumb was surprised -and not a little startled as he heard her key in the door. He had a -sudden vision of Allen returning, and he went white; but when he saw -who it was he was no less surprised, for the girl had never before -returned after leaving for the night. - -“My gracious!” he exclaimed. “Look who’s here!” - -She did not return his smile. - -“I found a telegram at home,” she said, “that necessitates my going -away for a few days. I came over to tell you, and to get a little snow -to last me until I come back. Where I am going they don’t have it, I -imagine.” - -He looked at her through narrowed, suspicious lids. - -“You’re going to quit me!” he cried accusingly. “That’s why you went -out with Allen! You can’t get away with it. I’ll never let you go. Do -you hear me? I’ll never let you go!” - -“Don’t be a fool, Wilson,” she replied. “My mother is ill, and I have -been sent for.” - -“Your mother? You never told me you had a mother.” - -“But I have, though I don’t care to talk about her to you. She needs -me, and I am going.” - -He was still suspicious. - -“Are you telling me the truth? Will you come back?” - -“You know I’ll come back,” she said. “I shall have to,” she added with -a weary sigh. - -“Yes, you’ll have to. You can’t get along without it. You’ll come back -all right--I’ll see to that!” - -“What do you mean?” she asked. - -“How much snow you got home?” he demanded. - -“You know I keep scarcely any there. I forgot my case to-day--left it -in my desk, so I had a little there--a couple of shots, maybe.” - -“Very well,” he said. “I’ll give you enough to last a week--then you’ll -have to come home.” - -“You say you’ll give me enough to last a week?” the girl repeated -questioningly. “I’ll take what I want--it’s as much mine as yours!” - -“But you don’t get any more than I’m going to give you. I won’t -have you gone more than a week. I can’t live without you--don’t you -understand? I believe you have a wooden heart, or none at all!” - -“Oh,” she said, yawning, “you can get some other poor fool to peddle it -for you if I don’t come back; but I’m coming, never fear. You’re as bad -as the snow--I hate you both, but I can’t live without either of you. I -don’t feel like quarreling, Wilson. Give me the stuff--enough to last a -week, for I’ll be home before that.” - -He went to the bathroom and made a little package up for her. - -“Here!” he said, returning to the living room. “That ought to last you -a week.” - -She took it and slipped it into her case. - -“Well, good-by,” she said, turning toward the door. - -“Aren’t you going to kiss me good-by?” he asked. - -“Have I ever kissed you, since I learned that you had a wife?” she -asked. - -“No,” he admitted; “but you might kiss me good-by now, when you’re -going away for a whole week.”. - -“Nothing doing, Wilson!” she said with a negative shake of the head. -“I’d as lief kiss a Gila monster!” - -He made a wry face. - -“You’re sure candid,” he said. - -She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of indifference and moved -toward the door. - -“I can’t make you out, Gaza,” he said. “I used to think you loved me, -and the Lord knows I certainly love you! You are the only woman I ever -really loved. A year ago I believe you would have married me, but now -you won’t even let me kiss you. Sometimes I think there is some one -else. If I thought you loved another man, I’d--I’d----” - -“No, you wouldn’t. You were going to say that you’d kill me, but you -wouldn’t. You haven’t the nerve of a rabbit. You needn’t worry--there -isn’t any other man, and there never will be. After knowing you I -could never respect any man, much less love one of ’em. You’re all -alike--rotten! And let me tell you something--I never did love you. I -liked you at first, before I knew the hideous thing that you had done -to me. I would have married you, and I would have made you a good wife, -too--you know that. I wish I could believe that you do love me. I know -of nothing, Wilson, that would give me more pleasure than to _know_ -that you loved me madly; but of course you’re not capable of loving -anything madly, except yourself.” - -“I do love you, Gaza,” he said seriously. “I love you so that I would -rather die than live without you.” - -She cocked her head on one side and eyed him quizzically. - -“I hope you do,” she told him; “for if it’s the truth, I can repay you -some measure of the suffering you have caused me. I can be around where -you can never get a chance to forget me, or to forget the fact that you -want me, but can never have me. You’ll see me every day, and every day -you will suffer vain regrets for the happiness that might have been -yours, if you had been a decent, honorable man; but you are not decent, -you are not honorable, you are not even a man!” - -He tried to laugh derisively, but she saw the slow red creep to his -face and knew that she had scored. - -“I hope you’ll feel better when you come back from your mother’s,” he -said. “You haven’t been very good company lately. Oh, by the way, where -did you say you are going?” - -“I didn’t say,” she replied. - -“Won’t you give me your address?” he demanded. - -“No.” - -“But suppose something happens? Suppose I want to get word to you?” -Crumb insisted. - -“You’ll have to wait until I get back,” she told him. - -“I don’t see why you can’t tell me where you’re going,” he grumbled. - -“Because there is a part of my life that you and your sort have never -entered,” she replied. “I would as lief take a physical leper to my -mother as a moral one. I cannot even discuss her with you without a -feeling that I have besmirched her.” - -On her face was an expression of unspeakable disgust as she passed -through the doorway of the bungalow and closed the door behind her. -Wilson Crumb simulated a shudder. - -“I sure was a damn fool,” he mused. “Gaza would have made the greatest -emotional actress the screen has ever known, if I’d given her a -chance. I guessed her wrong and played her wrong. She’s not like any -woman I ever saw before. I should have made her a great success and won -her gratitude--that’s the way I ought to have played her. Oh, well, -what’s the difference? She’ll come back!” - -He rose and went to the bathroom, snuffed half a grain of cocaine, -and then collected all the narcotics hidden there and every vestige -of contributary evidence of their use by the inmates of the bungalow. -Dragging a small table into his bedroom closet, he mounted and opened a -trap leading into the air space between the ceiling and the roof. Into -this he clambered, carrying the drugs with him. - -They were wrapped in a long, thin package, to which a light, strong -cord was attached. With this cord he lowered the package into the space -between the sheathing and the inner wall, fastening the end of the cord -to a nail driven into one of the studs at arm’s length below the wall -plate. - -“There!” he thought, as he clambered back into the closet. “It’ll take -some dick to uncover that junk!” - -Hidden between plaster and sheathing of the little bungalow was a -fortune in narcotics. Only a small fraction of their stock had the -two peddlers kept in the bathroom, and Crumb had now removed that, in -case Allen should guess that he had been betrayed by his confederate -and direct the police to the bungalow, or the police themselves should -trace his call and make an investigation on their own account. He -realized that he had taken a great risk; but his stratagem had saved -him from the deadly menace of Allen’s vengeance, at least for the -present. The fact that there must ultimately be an accounting with -the man he put out of his mind. It would be time enough to meet that -contingency when it arose. - -As a matter of fact, the police came to the bungalow that very evening; -but through no clew obtained from Allen, who, while he had suspicions -that were tantamount to conviction, chose to await the time when he -might wreak his revenge in his own way. The desk sergeant had traced -the call to Crumb, and after the arrest had been made a couple of -detective sergeants called upon him. They were quiet, pleasant-spoken -men, with an ingratiating way that might have deceived the possessor of -a less suspicious brain than Crumb’s. - -“The lieutenant sent us over to thank you for that tip,” said the -spokesman. “We got him all right, with the junk on him.” - -Not for nothing was Wilson Crumb a talented actor. None there was who -could better have registered polite and uninterested incomprehension. - -“I am afraid,” he said, “that I don’t quite get you. What tip? What are -you talking about?” - -“You called up the station, Mr. Crumb. We had central trace the call. -There is no use----” - -Crumb interrupted him with a gesture. He didn’t want the officer to go -so far that it might embarrass him to retract. - -“Ah!” he exclaimed, a light of understanding illuminating his face. “I -believe I have it. What was the message? I think I can explain it.” - -“We think you can, too,” agreed the sergeant, “seein’ you phoned the -message.” - -“No, but I didn’t,” said Crumb, “although I guess it may have come over -my phone all right. I’ll tell you what I know about it. A car drove -up a little while after dinner, and a man came to the door. He was a -stranger. He asked if I had a phone, and if he could use it. He said -he wanted to phone an important and confidential message to his wife. -He emphasized the ‘confidential,’ and there was nothing for me to do -but go in the other room until he was through. He was only a minute or -two talking, and then he called me. He wanted to pay for the use of -the phone. I didn’t hear what he said over the phone, but I guess that -explains the matter. I’ll be careful next time a stranger wants to use -my phone.” - -“I would,” said the sergeant dryly. “Would you know him if you saw him -again?” - -“I sure would,” said Crumb. - -They rose to go. - -“Nice little place you have here,” remarked one of them, looking around. - -“Yes,” said Crumb, “it is very comfortable. Wouldn’t you like to look -it over?” - -“No,” replied the officer. “Not now--maybe some other time.” - -Crumb grinned after he had closed the door behind them. - -“I wonder,” he mused, “if that was a threat or a prophecy!” - -A week later Slick Allen was sentenced to a year in the county jail for -having morphine in his possession. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -As Shannon Burke alighted from the Southern Pacific train at Ganado, -the following morning, a large, middle-aged man in riding clothes -approached her. - -“Is this Miss Burke?” he asked. “I am Colonel Pennington.” - -She noted that his face was grave, and it frightened her. - -“Tell me about my mother,” she said. “How is she?” - -He put an arm about the girl’s shoulders. - -“Come,” he said. “Mrs. Pennington is waiting over at the car.” - -Her question was answered. Numb with dread and suffering, she crossed -the station platform with him, the kindly, protecting arm still about -her. Beside a closed car a woman was standing. As they approached, she -came forward, put her arms about the girl, and kissed her. - -Seated in the tonneau between the colonel and Mrs. Pennington, the girl -sought to steady herself. She had taken no morphine since the night -before, for she had wanted to come to her mother “clean,” as she would -have expressed it. She realized now that it was a mistake, for she had -the sensation of shattered nerves on the verge of collapse. Mastering -all her resources, she fought for self-control with an effort that was -almost physically noticeable. - -“Tell me about it,” she said at length in a low voice. - -“It was very sudden,” said the colonel. “It was a heart attack. -Everything that possibly could be done in so short a time was done. -Nothing would have changed the outcome, however. We had Dr. Jones of -Los Angeles down--he motored down and arrived here about half an hour -before the end. He told us that he could have done nothing.” - -They were silent for a while as the fast car rolled over the smooth -road toward the hills ahead. Presently it slowed down, turned in -between orange trees, and stopped before a tiny bungalow a hundred -yards from the highway. - -“We thought you would want to come here first of all, dear,” said Mrs. -Pennington. “Afterward we are going to take you home with us.” - -They accompanied her to the tiny living room, where they introduced -her to the housekeeper, and to the nurse, who had remained at Colonel -Pennington’s request. Then they opened the door of a sunny bedroom, -and, closing it after her as she entered left her alone with her dead. - -Beyond the thin panels they could hear her sobbing; but when she -emerged fifteen minutes later, though her eyes were red, she was not -crying. They thought then that she had marvelous self-control; but -could they have known the hideous battle that she was fighting against -grief and the insistent craving for morphine, and the raw, taut nerves -that would give her no peace, and the shattered will that begged only -to be allowed to sleep--could they have known all this, they would have -realized that they were witnessing a miracle. - -They led her back to the car, where she sat with wide eyes staring -straight ahead. She wanted to scream, to tear her clothing, to do -anything but sit there quiet and rigid. The short drive to Ganado -seemed to the half mad girl to occupy hours. She saw nothing, not even -the quiet, restful ranch house as the car swung up the hill and stopped -at the north entrance. In her mind’s eye was nothing but the face of -her dead mother and the little black case in her traveling bag. - -The colonel helped her from the car and a sweet-faced young girl came -and put her arms about her and kissed her, as Mrs. Pennington had -done at the station. In a dazed sort of way Shannon understood that -they were telling her the girl’s name--that she was a daughter of the -Penningtons. The girl accompanied the visitor to the rooms she was to -occupy. - -Shannon wished to be alone--she wanted to get at the black case in the -traveling bag. Why didn’t the girl go away? She wanted to take her by -the shoulders and throw her out of the room; yet outwardly she was calm -and self-possessed. - -Very carefully she turned toward the girl. It required a supreme effort -not to tremble, and to keep her voice from rising to a scream. - -“Please,” she said, “I should like to be alone.” - -“I understand,” said the girl, and left the room, closing the door -behind her. - -Shannon crept stealthily to the door and turned the key in the lock. -Then she wheeled and almost fell upon the traveling bag in her -eagerness to get the small black case within it. She was trembling -from head to foot, her eyes were wide and staring, and she mumbled to -herself as she prepared the white powder and drew the liquid into the -syringe. - -Momentarily, however, she gathered herself together. For a few -seconds she stood looking at the glass and metal instrument in her -fingers--beyond it she saw her mother’s face. - -“I don’t want to do it,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to do it, mother!” -Her lower lip quivered, and tears came. “My God, I can’t help it!” -Almost viciously she plunged the needle beneath her skin. “I didn’t -want to do it to-day, of all days, with you lying over there all -alone--dead!” - -She threw herself across the bed and broke into uncontrolled sobbing; -but her nerves were relaxed, and the expression of her grief was -normal. Finally she sobbed herself to sleep, for she had not slept at -all the night before. - -It was afternoon when she awoke, and again she felt the craving for a -narcotic. This time she did not fight it. She had lost the battle--why -renew it? She bathed and dressed and took another shot before leaving -her rooms--a guest suite on the second floor. She descended the stairs, -which opened directly into the patio, and almost ran against a tall, -broad-shouldered young man in flannel shirt and riding breeches, with -boots and spurs. He stepped quickly back. - -“Miss Burke, I believe?” he inquired. “I am Custer Pennington.” - -“Oh, it was you who wired me,” she said. - -“No--that was my father.” - -“I am afraid I did not thank him for all his kindness. I must have -seemed very ungrateful.” - -“Oh, no, indeed, Miss Burke,” he said, with a quick smile of sympathy. -“We all understand, perfectly--you have suffered a severe nervous -shock. We just want to help you all we can, and we are sorry that there -is so little we can do.” - -“I think you have done a great deal, already, for a stranger.” - -“Not a stranger exactly,” he hastened to assure her. “We were all so -fond of your mother that we feel that her daughter can scarcely be -considered a stranger. She was a very lovable woman, Miss Burke--a very -fine woman.” - -Shannon felt tears in her eyes, and turned them away quickly. Very -gently he touched her arm. - -“Mother heard you moving about in your rooms, and she has gone over to -the kitchen to make some tea for you. If you will come with me, I’ll -show you to the breakfast room. She’ll have it ready in a jiffy.” - -She followed him through the living room and the library to the dining -room, beyond which a small breakfast room looked out toward the -peaceful hills. Young Pennington opened a door leading from the dining -room to the butler’s pantry, and called to his mother. - -“Miss Burke is down,” he said. - -The girl turned immediately from the breakfast room and entered the -butler’s pantry. - -“Can’t I help, Mrs. Pennington? I don’t want you to go to any trouble -for me. You have all been so good already!” - -Mrs. Pennington laughed. - -“Bless your heart, dear, it’s no trouble. The water is boiling, and -Hannah has made some toast. We were just waiting to ask if you prefer -green tea or black.” - -“Green, if you please,” said Shannon, coming into the kitchen. - -Custer had followed her, and was leaning against the door frame. - -“This is Hannah, Miss Burke,” said Mrs. Pennington. - -“I am so glad to know you, Hannah,” said the girl. “I hope you won’t -think me a terrible nuisance.” - -“Hannah’s a brick,” interposed the young man. “You can muss around her -kitchen all you want, and she never gets mad.” - -“I’m sure she doesn’t,” agreed Shannon; “but people who are late to -meals _are_ a nuisance, and I promise that I shan’t be again. I fell -asleep.” - -“You may change your mind about being late to meals when you learn the -hour we breakfast,” laughed Custer. - -“No--I shall be on time.” - -“You shall stay in bed just as late as you please,” said Mrs. -Pennington. “You mustn’t think of getting up when we do. You need all -the rest you can get.” - -They seemed to take it for granted that Shannon was going to stay -with them, instead of going to the little bungalow that had been her -mother’s--the truest type of hospitality, because, requiring no oral -acceptance, it suggested no obligation. - -“But I cannot impose on you so much,” she said. “After dinner I must go -down to--to----” - -Mrs. Pennington did not permit her to finish. - -“No, dear,” she said, quietly but definitely. “You are to stay here -with us until you return to the city. Colonel Pennington has arranged -with the nurse to remain with your mother’s housekeeper until after the -funeral. Please let us have our way. It will be so much easier for you, -and it will let us feel that we have been able to do something for you.” - -Shannon could not have refused if she had wished to, but she did not -wish to. In the quiet ranch house, surrounded by these strong, kindly -people, she found a restfulness and a feeling of security that she had -not believed she was ever to experience again. She had these thoughts -when, under the influence of morphine, her nerves were quieted and her -brain clear. After the effects had worn off, she became restless and -irritable. She thought of Crumb then, and of the bungalow on the Vista -del Paso, with its purple monkeys stenciled over the patio gate. She -wanted to be back where she could be free to do as she pleased--free to -sink again into the most degrading and abject slavery that human vice -has ever devised. - -On the first night, after she had gone to her rooms, the Penningtons, -gathered in the little family living room, discussed her, as people are -wont to discuss a stranger beneath their roof. - -“Isn’t she radiant?” demanded Eva. “She’s the most beautifulest -creature I ever saw!” - -“She looks much as her mother must have looked at the same age,” -commented the colonel. “There is a marked family resemblance.” - -“She _is_ beautiful,” agreed Mrs. Pennington; “but I venture to say -that she is looking her worst right now. She doesn’t appear at all -well, to me. Her complexion is very sallow, and sometimes there is -the strangest expression in her eyes--almost wild. The nervous shock -of her mother’s death must have been very severe; but she bears up -wonderfully, at that, and she is so sweet and appreciative!” - -“I sized her up over there in the kitchen to-day,” said Custer. “She’s -the real article. I can always tell by the way people treat a servant -whether they are real people or only counterfeit. She was as sweet and -natural to Hannah as she is to mother.” - -“I noticed that,” said his mother. “It is one of the hall marks of good -breeding; but we could scarcely expect anything else of Mrs. Burke’s -daughter. I know she must be a fine character.” - -In the room above them Shannon Burke, with trembling hands and staring -eyes, was inserting a slender needle beneath the skin above her hip. In -the movies one does not disfigure one’s arms or legs. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -The day of the funeral had come and gone. It had been a very hard one -for Shannon. She had determined that on this day, at least, she would -not touch the little hypodermic syringe. She owed that much respect -to the memory of her mother. And she had fought--God, how she had -fought!--with screaming nerves that would not be quiet, with trembling -muscles, and with a brain that held but a single thought--morphine, -morphine, morphine! - -She tried to shut the idea from her mind. She tried to concentrate her -thoughts upon the real anguish of her heart. She tried to keep before -her a vision of her mother; but her hideous, resistless vice crowded -all else from her brain, and the result was that on the way back from -the cemetery she collapsed into screaming, incoherent hysteria. - -They carried her to her room--Custer Pennington carried her, his father -and mother following. When the men had left, Mrs. Pennington and Eva -undressed her and comforted her and put her to bed; but she still -screamed and sobbed--frightful, racking sobs, without tears. She was -trying to tell them to go away. How she hated them! If they would only -go away and leave her! But she could not voice the words she sought to -scream at them, and so they stayed and ministered to her as best they -could. After a while she lost consciousness, and they thought that she -was asleep and left her. - -Perhaps she did sleep, for later, when she opened her eyes, she lay -very quiet, and felt rested and almost normal. She knew, though, that -she was not entirely awake--that when full wakefulness came the terror -would return unless she quickly had recourse to the little needle. - -In that brief moment of restfulness she thought quickly and clearly -and very fully of what had just happened. She had never had such -an experience before. Perhaps she had never fully realized the -frightful hold the drug had upon her. She had known that she could -not stop--or, at least, she had said that she knew; but whether she -had any conception of the pitiful state to which enforced abstinence -would reduce her is to be doubted. Now she knew, and she was terribly -frightened. - -“I must cut it down,” she said to herself. “I must have been hitting it -up a little too strong. When I get home, I’ll let up gradually until I -can manage with three or four shots a day.” - -When she came down to dinner that night, they were all surprised to -see her, for they had thought her still asleep. Particularly were they -surprised to see no indications of her recent breakdown. How could they -know that she had just taken enough morphine to have killed any one of -them? She seemed normal and composed, and she tried to infuse a little -gayety into her conversation, for she realized that her grief was not -theirs. She knew that their kind hearts shared something of her sorrow, -but it was selfish to impose her own sadness upon them. - -She had been thinking very seriously, had Shannon Burke. The attack of -hysteria had jarred her loose, temporarily at least, from the selfish -rut that her habit and her hateful life with Crumb had worn for her. -She recalled every emotion of the ordeal through which she had passed, -even to the thoughts of hate that she had held for those two sweet -women at the table with her. How could she have hated them? She hated -herself for the thought. - -She compared herself with them, and a dull flush mounted to her cheek. -She was not fit to remain under the same roof with them, and here she -was sitting at their table, a respected guest! What if they should -learn of the thing she was? The thought terrified her; and yet she -talked on, oftentimes gayly, joining with them in the laughter that was -a part of every meal. - -She really saw them, that night, as they were. It was the first time -that her grief and her selfish vice had permitted her to study them. -It was her first understanding glimpse of a family life that was as -beautiful as her own life was ugly. - -As she compared herself with the women, she compared Crumb with these -two men. They might have vices--they were strong men, and few strong -men are without vices, she knew--but she was sure they were the vices -of strong men, which, by comparison with those of Wilson Crumb, would -become virtues. What a pitiful creature Crumb seemed beside these two, -with his insignificant mentality and his petty egotism! - -Suddenly it came to her, almost as a shock, that she had to leave this -beautiful place and go back to the sordid life that she shared with -Crumb. Her spirit revolted, but she knew that it must be. She did not -belong here--her vice must ever bar her from such men and women as -these. The memory of them would haunt her always, making her punishment -the more poignant to the day of her death. - -That evening she and Colonel Pennington discussed her plans for the -future. She had asked him about disposing of the orchard--how she -should proceed, and what she might ask for it. - -“I should advise you to hold it,” he said. “It is going to increase in -value tremendously in the next few years. You can easily get some one -to work it for you on shares. If you don’t want to live on it, Custer -and I will be glad to keep an eye on it and see that it is properly -cared for; but why don’t you stay here? You could really make a very -excellent living from it. Besides, Miss Burke, here in the country you -can really _live_. You city people don’t know what life is.” - -“There!” said Eva. “Popsy has started. If he had his way, we’d all -have to move to the city to escape the maddening crowd. He’d move the -maddening crowd into the country!” - -“It may be that Shannon doesn’t care for the country,” suggested Mrs. -Pennington. “There _are_ such foolish people,” she added, laughing. - -“Oh, I would love the country!” exclaimed Shannon. - -“Then why don’t you stay?” urged the colonel. - -“I had never thought of it,” she said hesitatingly. - -It was indeed a new idea. Of course it was an absolute impossibility, -but it was a very pleasant thing to contemplate. - -“Possibly Miss Burke has ties in the city that she would not care to -break,” suggested Custer, noting her hesitation. - -Ties in the city! Shackles of iron, rather, she thought bitterly; but, -oh, it was such a nice thought! To live here, to see these people -daily, perhaps be one of them, to be like them--ah, that would be -heaven! - -“Yes,” she said, “I have ties in the city. I could not remain here, I -am afraid, much as I should like to. I--I think I had better sell.” - -“Rubbish!” exclaimed the colonel. “You’ll not sell. You are going to -stay here with us until you are thoroughly rested, and then you won’t -want to sell.” - -“I wish that I might,” she said; “but----” - -“But nothing!” interrupted the colonel. “You are not well, and I shan’t -permit you to leave until those cheeks are the color of Eva’s.” - -He spoke to her as he might have spoken to one of his children. She -had never known a father, and it was the first time that any man had -talked to her in just that way. It brought the tears to her eyes--tears -of happiness, for every woman wants to feel that she belongs to some -man--a father, a brother, or a husband--who loves her well enough to -order her about for her own good. - -“I shall have to think it over,” she said. “It means so much to me to -have you all want me to stay! Please don’t think that I don’t want to; -but--but--there are so many things to consider, and I want to stay so -very, very much!” - -“All right,” said the colonel. “It’s decided--you stay. Now run off to -bed, for you’re going to ride with us in the morning, and that means -that you’ll have to be up at half past five.” - -“But I can’t ride,” she said. “I don’t know how, and I have nothing to -wear.” - -“Eva’ll fit you out, and as for not knowing how to ride, you can’t -learn any younger. Why, I’ve taught half the children in the foothills -to ride a horse, and a lot of the grown-ups. What I can’t teach you Cus -and Eva can. You’re going to start in to-morrow, my little girl, and -learn how to live. Nobody who has simply survived the counterfeit life -of the city knows anything about living. You wait--we’ll show you!” - -She smiled up into his face. - -“I suppose I shall have to mind you,” she said. “I imagine every one -does.” - -Seated in an easy chair in her bedroom, she stared at the opposite -wall. The craving that she was seldom without was growing in intensity, -for she had been without morphine since before dinner. She got up, -unlocked her bag, and took out the little black case. She opened it, -and counted the powders remaining. She had used half her supply--she -could stay but three or four days longer at the outside; and the -colonel wanted her to stay until her cheeks were like Eva’s! - -She rose and looked in the mirror. How sallow she was! Something--she -did not know what--had kept her from using rouge here. During the first -days of her grief she had not even thought of it, and then, after that -evening at dinner, she knew that she could not use it here. It was a -make-believe, a sham, which didn’t harmonize with these people or the -life they led--a clean, real life, in which any form of insincerity -had no place. She knew that they were broad people, both cultured and -traveled, and so she could not understand why it was that she felt that -the harmless vanity of rouge might be distasteful to them. Indeed, -she guessed that it would not. It was something fine in herself, long -suppressed, seeking expression. - -It was this same thing, perhaps, that had caused her to refuse a -cigarette that Custer had offered her after dinner. The act indicated -that they were accustomed to having women smoke there, as women nearly -everywhere smoke to-day; but she had refused, and she was glad she -had, for she noticed that neither Mrs. Pennington nor Eva smoked. Such -women didn’t have to smoke to be attractive to men. She had smoked in -her room several times, for that habit, too, had a strong hold on her; -but she had worked assiduously to remove the telltale stains from her -fingers. - -“I wonder,” she mused, looking at the black case, “if I could get -through the night without you! It would give me a few more hours here -if I could--a few more hours of life before I go back to _that_!” - -Until midnight she fought her battle--a losing battle--tossing and -turning in her bed; but she did her best before she gave up in -defeat--no, not quite defeat; let us call it compromise, for the dose -she took was only half as much as she ordinarily allowed herself. The -three-hour fight and the half dose meant a partial victory, for it -gained for her, she estimated, an additional six hours. - -At a quarter before six she was awakened by a knock on her door. It was -already light, and she awoke with mingled surprise that she had slept -so well and vague forebodings of the next hour or two, for she was -unaccustomed to horses and a little afraid of them. - -“Who is it?” she asked, as the knock was repeated. - -“Eva. I’ve brought your riding things.” - -Shannon rose and opened the door. She was going to take the things from -the girl, but the latter bounced into the room, fresh and laughing. - -“Come on!” she cried. “I’ll help you. Just pile your hair up anyhow--it -doesn’t matter--this hat’ll cover it. I think these breeches will -fit you--we are just about the same size; but I don’t know about the -boots--they may be a little large. I didn’t bring any spurs--papa won’t -let any one wear spurs until they ride fairly well. You’ll have to win -your spurs, you see! It’s a beautiful morning--just spiffy! Run in -and wash up a bit. I’ll arrange everything, and you’ll be in ’em in a -jiffy.” - -She seized Shannon around the waist and danced off toward the bathroom. - -“Don’t be long,” she admonished, as she returned to the dressing room, -from where she laid down a barrage of conversation before the bathroom. - -Shannon washed quickly. She was excited at the prospect of the ride. -That and the laughing, talking girl in the adjoining room gave her -no time to think. Her mind was fully occupied and her nerves were -stimulated. For the moment she forgot about morphine, and then it was -too late, for Eva had her by the hand and she was being led, almost at -a run, down the stairs, through the patio, and out over the edge of the -hill down toward the stable. - -At first the full-foliaged umbrella trees through which the walk wound -concealed the stable and corrals at the foot of the hill, but presently -they broke upon her view, and she saw the horses saddled and waiting, -and the other members of the family. The colonel and Mrs. Pennington -were already mounted. Custer and a stableman held two horses, while -the fifth was tied to a ring in the stable wall. It was a pretty -picture--the pawing horses, with arched necks, eager to be away; the -happy, laughing people in their picturesque and unconventional riding -clothes; the new day upon the nearer hills; the haze upon the farther -mountains. - -“Fine!” cried the colonel, as he saw her coming. “Really never thought -you’d do it! I’ll wager this is the earliest you have been up in -many a day. ‘Barbarous hour’--that’s what you’re saying. Why, when -my cousin was on here from New York, he was really shocked--said -it wasn’t decent. Come along--we’re late this morning. You’ll ride -Baldy--Custer’ll help you up.” - -She stepped to the mounting block as the young man led the dancing -Baldy close beside it. - -“Ever ridden much?” he asked. - -“Never in my life.” - -“Take the reins in your left hand--so. Like this--left-hand rein coming -in under your little finger, the other between your first and second -fingers, and the bight out between your first finger and thumb-- there, -that’s it. Face your horse, put your left hand on the horn, and your -right hand on the cantle--this is the cantle back here. That’s the -ticket. Now put your left foot in the stirrup and stand erect--no, -don’t lean forward over the saddle--good! swing your right leg, knee -bent, over the cantle, at the same time lifting your right hand. When -you come down, ease yourself into the saddle by closing on the horse -with your knees--that takes the jar off both of you. Ride with a light -rein. If you want him to slow down or stop, pull him in--don’t jerk.” - -He was holding Baldy close to the bit as he helped her and explained. -He saw that her right foot found the stirrup, and that she had the -reins properly gathered, and then he released the animal. Immediately -Baldy began to curvet, raising both fore feet simultaneously, and, as -they were coming down, raising his hind feet together, so that all four -were off the ground at once. - -Shannon was terrified. Why had they put her on a bucking horse? They -knew she couldn’t ride. It was cruel! - -But she sat there with tight-pressed lips and uttered no sound. She -recalled every word that Custer had said to her, and she did not jerk, -though some almost irresistible power urged her to. She just pulled, -and as she pulled she glanced about to see if they were rushing to her -rescue. Great was her surprise when she discovered that no one was -paying much attention to her or to the mad actions of her terrifying -mount. - -Suddenly it dawned upon her that she had neither fallen off nor come -near falling off. She had not even lost a stirrup. As a matter of fact, -the motion was not even uncomfortable. It was enjoyable, and she was -in about as much danger of being thrown as she would have been from a -rocking chair as violently self-agitated. She laughed then, and in the -instant all fear left her. - -She saw Eva mount from the ground, and noted that the stableman was -not even permitted to hold her restive horse, much less to assist her -in any other way. Custer swung to the saddle with the ease of long -habitude. The colonel reined to her side. - -“We’ll let them go ahead,” he said, “and I’ll give you your first -lesson. Then I’ll turn you over to Custer--he and Eva can put on the -finishing touches.” - -“He wants to see that you’re started right,” called the younger man, -laughing. - -“Popsy just wants to add another feather to his cap,” said Eva. “Some -day he’ll ‘point with pride’ and say, ‘Look at her ride! I gave her her -first lesson.’” - -“Here come Mrs. Evans and Guy!” - -As Mrs. Pennington spoke, they saw two horses rounding the foot of the -hill at a brisk canter, their riders waving a cheery long-distance -greeting. - -That first morning ride with the Penningtons and their friends was an -event in the life of Shannon Burke that assumed the proportions of -adventure. The novelty, the thrill, the excitement, filled her every -moment. The dancing horse beneath her seemed to impart to her a full -measure of its buoyant life. The gay laughter of her companions, the -easy fellowship of young and old, the generous sympathy that made her -one of them, gave her but another glimpse of the possibilities for -happiness that requires no artificial stimulus. - -She loved the hills. She loved the little trail winding through the -leafy tunnel of a cool barranco. She loved the thrill of the shelving -hillside where the trail clung precariously in its ascent toward some -low summit. She tingled with the new life and a new joy as they broke -into a gallop along a grassy ridge. - -Custer, in the lead, reined in, raising his hand in signal for them all -to stop. - -“Look, Miss Burke,” he said, pointing toward a near hillside. “There’s -a coyote. Thought maybe you’d never seen one on his native heath.” - -“Shoot it! Shoot it!” cried Eva. “You poor boob, why don’t you shoot -it?” - -“Baldy’s gun shy,” he explained. - -“Oh!” said Eva. “Yes, of course--I forgot.” - -“One of the things you do best,” returned Custer loftily. - -“I was just going to say that you were not a boob at all, but now I -won’t!” - -Shannon watched the gray, wolfish animal turn and trot off dejectedly -until it disappeared among the brush; but she was not thinking of the -coyote. She was considering the thoughtfulness of a man who could -remember to forego a fair shot at a wild animal because one of the -horses in his party was gun shy, and was ridden by a woman unaccustomed -to riding. She wondered if this was an index to young Pennington’s -character--so different from the men she had known. It bespoke a -general attitude toward women with which she was unfamiliar--a -protective instinct that was chiefly noticeable in the average city man -by its absence. - -Interspersed with snatches of conversation and intervening silences -were occasional admonitions directed at her by the colonel, instructing -her to keep her feet parallel to the horse’s sides, not to lean -forward, to keep her elbows down and her left forearm horizontal. - -“I never knew there was so much to riding!” she exclaimed, laughingly. -“I thought you just got on a horse and rode, and that was all there was -to it.” - -“That _is_ all there is to it to most of the people you see riding -rented horses around Los Angeles,” Colonel Pennington told her. “It -is all there can ever be to the great majority of people anywhere. -Horsemanship is inherent in some; by others it can never be acquired. -It is an art.” - -“Like dancing,” suggested Eva. - -“And thinking,” said Custer. “Lots of people can go through the motions -of riding, or dancing, or thinking, without ever achieving any one of -them.” - -“I can’t even go through the motions of riding,” said Shannon ruefully. - -“All you need is practice,” said the colonel. “I can tell a born rider -in half an hour, even if he’s never been on a horse before in his life. -You’re one.” - -“I’m afraid you’re making fun of me. The saddle keeps coming up and -hitting me, and I never see any of you move from yours.” - -Guy Evans was riding close to her. - -“No, he’s not making fun of you,” he whispered, leaning closer to -Shannon. “The colonel has paid you one of the greatest compliments in -his power to bestow. He always judges people first by their morals and -then by their horsemanship; but if they are good horsemen, he can make -generous allowance for minor lapses in their morals.” - -They both laughed. - -“He’s a dear, isn’t he?” said the girl. - -“He and Custer are the finest men I ever knew,” replied the boy eagerly. - -That ride ended in a rushing gallop along a quarter mile of straight -road leading to the stables, where they dismounted, flushed, -breathless, and laughing. As they walked up the winding concrete walk -toward the house, Shannon Burke was tired, lame, and happy. She had -adventured into a new world and found it good. - -“Come into my room and wash,” said Eva, as they entered the patio. -“We’re late for breakfast now, and we all like to sit down together.” - -For just an instant, and for the first time that morning, Shannon -thought of the hypodermic needle in its black case upstairs. She -hesitated, and then resolutely turned into Eva’s room. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -During the hour following breakfast that morning, while Shannon was -alone in her rooms, the craving returned. The thought of it turned her -sick when she felt it coming. She had been occupying herself making -her bed and tidying the room, as she had done each morning since her -arrival; but when that was done, her thoughts reverted by habit to the -desire that had so fatally mastered her. - -While she was riding, she had had no opportunity to think of anything -but the thrill of the new adventure. At breakfast she had been very -hungry, for the first time in many months; and this new appetite for -food, and the gay conversation of the breakfast table, had given her -nerves no chance to assert their craving. Now that she was alone and -unoccupied, the terrible thing clutched at her again. - -Once again she fought the fight that she had fought so many times of -late--the fight that she knew she was ordained to lose before she -started fighting. She longed to win it so earnestly that her defeat was -the more pitiable. She was eager to prolong this new-found happiness to -the uttermost limit. Though she knew that it must end when her supply -of morphine was gone, she was determined to gain a few hours each day, -in order that she might add at least another happy day to her life. -Again she took but half her ordinary allowance; but with what anguished -humiliation she performed the hated and repulsive act. Always had she -loathed the habit, but never had it seemed nearly so disgusting as when -performed amid these cleanly and beautiful surroundings, under the same -roof with such people as the Penningtons. - -There crept into her mind a thought that had found its way there -more than once before during the past two years--the thought of -self-destruction. She put it away from her; but in the depth of her -soul she knew that never before had it taken so strong a hold upon her. -Her mother, her only tie, was gone, and no one would care. She had -looked into heaven and found that it was not for her. She had no future -except to return to the hideous existence of the Hollywood bungalow and -her lonely boarding house, and to the hated Crumb. - -It was then that Eva Pennington called her. - -“I am going to walk up to the Berkshires,” she said. “Come along with -me!” - -“The Berkshires!” exclaimed Shannon. “I thought they were in New -England.” - -She was descending the stairs toward Eva, who stood at the foot, -holding open the door that led into the patio. She welcomed the -interruption that had broken in upon her morbid thoughts. The sight of -the winsome figure smiling up at her dispelled them as the light of the -sun sweeps away miasmatic vapors. - -“In New England?” repeated Eva. Her brows puckered, and then suddenly -she broke into a merry laugh. “I meant pigs, not hills!” - -Shannon laughed, too. How many times she had laughed that day--and it -was yet far from noon. Close as was the memory of her mother’s death, -she could laugh here with no consciousness of irreverence--rather, -perhaps, with the conviction that she was best serving the ideals that -had been dear to that mother by giving and accepting happiness when -opportunity offered it. - -“I’m only sorry it’s not the hills,” she said; “for that would mean -walking, walking, walking--doing something in the open, away from -people who live in cities and who can find no pleasures outside four -walls.” - -Shannon’s manner was tense, her voice had suddenly become serious. The -younger girl looked up at her with an expression of mild surprise. - -“My gracious!” cried Eva. “You’re getting almost as bad as popsy, and -you’ve been here only half a week; but how radiant, if you really love -it!” - -“I do love it, dear, though I didn’t mean to be quite so tragic; but -the thought that I shall have to go away and can never enjoy it again -_is_ tragic.” - -“I hope you won’t have to go,” said Eva simply, slipping an arm about -the other’s waist. “We all hope that you won’t have to.” - -They walked down the hill, past the saddle horse barn, and along the -graveled road that led to the upper end of the ranch. The summer sun -beat hotly upon them, making each old sycamore and oak and walnut a -delightful oasis of refreshing shade. In a field at their left two -mowers were clicking merrily through lush alfalfa. At their right, -beyond the pasture fence, gentle Guernseys lay in the shade of a -wide-spreading sycamore, a part of the pastoral allegory of content -that was the Rancho del Ganado; and over all were the blue California -sky and the glorious sun. - -“Isn’t it wonderful?” breathed Shannon, half to herself. “It makes one -feel that there cannot be a care or sorrow in all the world!” - -They soon reached the pens and houses where sleek, black Berkshires -dozed in every shaded spot. Then they wandered farther up the cañon, -into the pasture where the great brood sows sprawled beneath the -sycamores, or wallowed in a concrete pool shaded by overhanging boughs. -Eva stooped now and then to stroke a long, deep side. - -“How clean they are!” exclaimed Shannon. “I thought pigs were dirty.” - -“They are when they are kept in dirty places--the same as people.” - -“They don’t smell badly; even the pens didn’t smell of pig. All I -noticed was a heavy, sweet odor. What was it--something they feed them?” - -Eva laughed. - -“It was the pigs themselves. The more you know pigs, the better you -love ’em. They’re radiant creatures!” - -“You dear! You love everything, don’t you?” - -“Pretty nearly everything, except prunes and washing dishes.” - -They swung up then through the orange grove, and along the upper road -back toward the house. It was noon and lunch time when they arrived. -Shannon was hot and tired and dusty and delighted as she opened the -door at the foot of the stairs that led up to her rooms above. - -There she paused. The old, gripping desire had seized her. She had not -once felt it since she had passed through that door more than two hours -before. For a moment she hesitated, and then, fearfully, she turned -toward Eva. - -“May I clean up in your room?” she asked. - -There was a strange note of appeal in Shannon’s voice that the other -girl did not understand. - -“Why, certainly,” she said; “but is there anything the matter? You are -not ill?” - -“Just a little tired.” - -“There! I should never have walked you so far. I’m so sorry!” - -“I want to be tired. I want to do it again this afternoon--all -afternoon. I don’t want to stop until I am ready to drop!” Then, seeing -the surprise in Eva’s expression, she added: “You see, I shall be here -such a short time that I want to crowd every single moment full of -pleasant memories.” - -Shannon thought that she had never eaten so much before as she had that -morning at breakfast; but at luncheon she more than duplicated her -past performance. There was cold chicken--delicious Rhode Island Reds -raised on the ranch; there was a salad of home-grown tomatoes--firm, -deep red beauties--and lettuce from the garden; Hannah’s bread, with -butter fresh from the churn, and tall, cool pitchers filled with rich -Guernsey milk; and then a piece of Hannah’s famous apple pie, with -cream so thick that it would scarce pour. - -“My!” Shannon exclaimed at last. “I have seen the pigs and I have -become one.” - -“And I see something, dear,” said Mrs. Pennington, smiling. - -“What?” - -“Some color in your cheeks.” - -“Not _really_?” she cried, delighted. - -“Yes, really.” - -“And it’s mighty becoming,” offered the colonel. “Nothing like a brown -skin and rosy cheeks for beauty. That’s the way God meant girls to -be, or He wouldn’t have given ’em delicate skins and hung the sun up -there to beautify ’em. Here He’s gone to a lot of trouble to fit up -the whole world as a beauty parlor, and what do women do? They go and -find some stuffy little shop poked away where the sun never reaches -it, and pay some other woman, who knows nothing about art, to paint a -mean imitation of a complexion on their poor skins. They wouldn’t think -of hanging a chromo in their living rooms; but they wear one on their -faces, when the greatest Artist of them all is ready and willing to -paint a masterpiece there for nothing!” - -“What a dapper little thought!” exclaimed Eva. “Popsy should have been -a poet.” - -“Or an ad writer for a cosmetic manufacturer,” suggested Custer. “Oh, -by the way, not changing the subject or anything, but did you hear -about Slick Allen?” - -No, they had not. Shannon pricked up her ears, metaphorically. What did -these people know of Slick Allen? - -“He’s just been sent up in L. A. for having narcotics in his -possession. Got a year in the county jail.” - -“I guess he was a bad one,” commented the colonel; “but he never struck -me as being a drug addict.” - -“Nor me; but I guess you can’t always tell them,” said Custer. - -“It must be a terrible habit,” said Mrs. Pennington. - -“It’s about as low as any one can sink,” said Custer. - -“I hear that there’s been a great increase in it since prohibition,” -remarked the colonel. “Personally, I’d have more respect for a whisky -drunkard than for a drug addict; or perhaps I should better say that -I’d feel less disrespect. A police official told me not long ago, at -a dinner in town, that if drug-taking continues to increase as it has -recently, it will constitute a national menace by comparison with which -the whisky evil will seem paltry.” - -Shannon Burke was glad when they rose from the table, putting an end to -the conversation. She had plumbed the uttermost depths of humiliation. -She had felt herself go hot and cold in shame and fear. At first her -one thought had been to get away--to find some excuse for leaving the -Penningtons at once. If they knew the truth, what would they think -of her? Not because of her habit alone, but because she had imposed -upon their hospitality in the guise of decency, knowing that she was -unclean, and practicing her horrid vice beneath their very roof; -associating with their daughter and bringing them all in contact with -her moral leprosy. - -She was hastening to her room to pack. She knew there was an evening -train for the city, and while she packed she could be framing some -plausible excuse for leaving thus abruptly. - -Custer Pennington called to her. - -“Miss Burke!” - -She turned, her hand upon the knob of the door to the upstairs suite. - -“I’m going to ride over the back ranch this afternoon. Eva showed you -the Berkshires this morning; now I want to show you the Herefords. I -told the stableman to saddle Baldy for you. Will half an hour be too -soon?” - -He was standing in the north arcade of the patio, a few yards from her, -waiting for her reply. How fine and straight and clean he was! If fate -had been less unkind, she might have been worthy of the friendship of -such a man as he. - -Worthy? Was she unworthy, then? She had been just as fine and clean as -Custer Pennington until a beast had tricked her into shame. She had not -knowingly embraced a vice. It had already claimed her before she knew -it for what it was. Must she then forego all hope of happiness because -of a wrong of which she herself was innocent? - -She wanted to go with Custer. Another day would make no difference, -for the Penningtons would never know. How could they? By what chance -might they ever connect Shannon Burke with Gaza de Lure? She well knew -that her screen days were over, and there was no slightest likelihood -that any of these people would be introduced into the bungalow on the -Vista del Paso. Who could begrudge her just this little afternoon of -happiness before she went back to Crumb? - -“Don’t tell me you don’t want to come,” cried Custer. “I won’t take no -for an answer!” - -“Oh, but I do want to come--ever so much! I’ll be down in just a -minute. Why wait half an hour?” - -She was in her room no more than five minutes, and during that time she -sought bravely to efface all thought of the little black case; but with -diabolic pertinacity it constantly obtruded itself, and with it came -the gnawing hunger of nerves starving for a narcotic. - -“I won’t!” she cried, stamping her foot. “I won’t! I won’t!” - -If only she could get away from the room before she succumbed to the -mounting temptation, she was sure that she could fight it off for the -rest of the afternoon. She had gained that much, at least; but she must -keep occupied, constantly occupied, where she could not have access to -it or see the black case in which she kept the morphine. - -She triumphed by running away from it. She almost hurled herself down -the stairs and into the patio. Custer Pennington was not there. She -must find him before the craving dragged her back to the rooms above. -Already she could feel her will weakening. It was the old, old story -that she knew so well. - -“What’s the use?” the voice of the tempter asked. “Just a little one! -It will make you feel so much better. What’s the use?” - -She turned toward the door again; she had her hand upon the knob, and -then she swung back and called him. - -“Mr. Pennington!” - -If he did not hear, she knew that she would go up into her rooms -defeated. - -“Coming!” he answered from beyond the arched entrance of the patio, and -then he stepped into view. - -She almost ran to him. - -“Was I very long?” she asked. “Did I keep you waiting?” - -“Why, you’ve scarcely been gone any time at all,” he replied. - -“Let’s hurry,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t want to miss any of it!” - -He wondered why she should be so much excited at the prospect of a ride -into the hills, but it pleased him that she was, and it flattered him a -little, too. He began to be a little enthusiastic over the trip, which -he had planned only as part of the generous policy of the family to -keep Shannon occupied, so that she might not brood too sorrowfully over -her loss. - -And Shannon was pleased because of her victory. She was too honest at -heart to attempt to deceive herself into thinking that it was any great -triumph; but even to have been strong enough to have run away from the -enemy was something. She did not hope that it augured any permanent -victory for the future, for she did not believe that such a thing was -possible. She knew that scarce three in a hundred slaves of morphine -definitely cast off their bonds this side of the grave, and she had -gone too far to be one of the three. If she could keep going forever as -she had that day, she might do it; but that, of course, was impossible. -There must be hours when she would be alone with nothing to do but -think, think, think, and what would she think about? Always the same -things--the little white powder and the peace and rest that it would -give her. - -Custer watched her as she mounted, holding Baldy beside the block for -her, and again he was pleased to note that she did not neglect a single -detail of the instructions he had given her. - -“Some girl, this!” the young man soliloquized mentally. - -He knew she must be at least a little lame and sore after the morning -ride, but though he watched her face he saw no sign of it registered -there. - -“Game!” - -He was going to like her. Stirrup to stirrup, they rode slowly up -the lane toward the cañon road. Her form was perfect. She seemed to -recall everything his father had told her, and she sat easily, with no -stiffness. - -“Don’t you want to ride faster?” she asked. “You needn’t poke along on -my account.” - -“It’s too hot,” he replied; but the real reason was that he knew she -was probably suffering, even at a walk. - -For a long time they rode in silence, the girl taking in every beauty -of meadow, ravine, and hill, that she might store them all away for -the days when they would be only memories. The sun beat down upon them -fiercely, for it was an early August day, and there was no relieving -breeze; but she enjoyed it. It was all so different from any day in -her past, and so much happier than anything in the last two years, or -anything she could expect in the future. - -Custer Pennington, never a talkative man, was always glad of a -companionship that could endure long silences. Grace had been like -that with him. They could be together for hours with scarce a dozen -words exchanged; and yet both could talk well when they had anything -to say. It was the knowledge that conversation was not essential to -perfect understanding and comradeship that had rendered their intimacy -delightful. - -The riders had entered the hills and were winding up Jackknife Cañon -before either spoke. - -“If you tire,” he said, “or if it gets too hot, we’ll turn back. Please -don’t hesitate to tell me.” - -“It’s heavenly!” she said. - -“Possibly a few degrees too hot for heaven,” he suggested; “but it’s -always cool under the live oaks. Any time you want to rest we’ll stop -for a bit.” - -“Which are the live oaks?” she asked. - -He pointed to one. - -“Why are they called _live_ oaks?” - -“They’re evergreen--I suppose that’s the reason. Here’s a big old -fellow--shall we stop?” - -“And get off?” - -“If you wish.” - -“Do you think I could get on again?” - -Pennington laughed. - -“I’ll get you up all right. Still feel a little lame?” - -“Who said I was lame?” she demanded. - -“I know you must be, but you’re mighty game!” - -“I was when I started, but not any more. I seem to have limbered up. -Let’s try it. I want to see if I can get on from the ground, as Eva -does. What are you smiling at? That’s the second time in the last few -seconds.” - -“Was I smiling? I didn’t know it. I didn’t mean to.” - -“What did I do?” - -“You didn’t do anything--it was something you said. You won’t mind, -will you, as long as you are learning to ride a horse, if I teach you -the correct terminology at the same time?” - -“Why, of course not! What did I say? Was it very awful?” - -“Oh, no; but it always amuses me when I hear it. It’s about getting on -and off. You get on or off a street car, but you mount or dismount if -you’re riding a horse.” - -“But I don’t!” she exclaimed, laughing. “Falling on and off would suit -my method better.” - -“No, you mount very nicely. Now watch, and I’ll show you how to -dismount. Put your left hand on the horn; throw your right leg over -the cantle, immediately grasping the cantle with the right hand; stand -erect in the left stirrup, legs straight and heels together--you see, -I’m facing right across the horse. Now support the weight of the body -with your arms, like this; remove the left foot from the stirrup and -drop to the ground, alighting evenly on both feet. That’s the correct -form and a good plan to follow while you’re learning to ride. Afterward -one gets to swing off almost any old way.” - -“I thought one always _dismounted_,” she suggested, “from a horse!” - -Her eyes twinkled. He laughed. - -“I’ll have to be careful, won’t I? You scored that time!” - -“Now watch me,” she said. - -“Splendid!” he exclaimed, as she dropped lightly to the ground. - -They led their horses beneath the spreading tree and sat down with -their backs to the huge bole. - -“How cool it is here!” remarked the girl. “I can feel a breeze, though -I hadn’t noticed one before.” - -“There always is a breeze beneath the oaks. I think they make their -own. I read somewhere that an oak evaporates about one hundred and -eighty gallons of water every day. That ought to make a considerable -change of temperature beneath the tree on a hot day like this, and in -that way it must start a circulation of air about it.” - -“How interesting! How much there is to know in the world, and how -little of it most of us know! A tree is a tree, a flower is a flower, -and the hills are the hills--that much knowledge of them satisfies -nearly all of us. The how and the why of them we never consider; but I -should like to know more. We should know all about things that are so -beautiful--don’t you think so?” - -“Yes,” he said. “In ranching we do learn a lot that city people don’t -need to know--about how things grow, and what some plants take out of -the soil, and what others put into it. It’s part of our business to -know these things, not only that we may judge the food value of certain -crops, but also to keep our soil in condition to grow good crops every -year.” - -He told her how the tree beneath which they sat drew water and various -salts from the soil, and how the leaves extracted carbon dioxide from -the air, taking it in through myriads of minute mouths on the under -sides of the leaves, and how the leaves manufactured starch and the sap -carried it to every growing part of the tree, from deepest root to the -tip of loftiest twig. - -The girl listened, absorbed. As she listened she watched the man’s -face, earnest and intelligent, and mentally she could not but compare -him and his conversation with the men she had known in the city, and -their conversation. They had talked to her as if she was a mental -cipher, incapable of understanding or appreciating anything worth -while--small talk, that subverter of the ancient art of conversation. -In a brief half hour Custer Pennington had taught her things that -would help to make the world a little more interesting and a little -more beautiful; for she could never look upon a tree again as just -a tree--it would be for her a living, breathing, almost a sentient -creature. - -She tried to recall what she had learned from two years’ association -with Wilson Crumb, and the only thing she could think of was that Crumb -had taught her to snuff cocaine. - -After a while they started on again, and the girl surprised the man by -mounting easily from the ground. She was very much pleased with her -achievement, laughing happily at his word of approval. - -They rode on until they found the Herefords. They counted them as they -searched through the large pasture that ran back into the hills; and -when the full number had been accounted for, they turned toward home. -As he had told her about the trees, Custer told her also about the -beautiful white-faced cattle, of their origin in the English county -whose name they bear, and of their unequaled value as beef animals. He -pointed out various prize winners as they passed them. - -“There you are, smiling again,” she said accusingly, as they followed -the trail homeward. “What have I done now?” - -“You haven’t done anything but be very patient all afternoon. I was -smiling at the idea of how thrilling the afternoon must have been for a -city girl, accustomed, I suppose, to a constant round of pleasure and -excitement!” - -“I have never known a happier afternoon,” she said. - -“I wonder if you really mean that?” - -“Honestly!” - -“I am glad,” he said; “for sometimes I get terribly tired of it here, -and I think it always does me good to have an outsider enthuse a -little. It brings me a realization of the things we have here that city -people can’t have, and makes me a little more contented.” - -“You couldn’t be discontented! Why, there are just thousands and -thousands of people in the city who would give everything to change -places with you! We don’t all live in the city because we want to. You -are fortunate that you don’t have to.” - -“Do you think so?” - -“I know it.” - -“But it seems such a narrow life here! I ought to be doing a man’s work -among men, where it will count.” - -“You _are_ doing a man’s work here and living a man’s life, and what -you do here _does_ count. Suppose you were making stoves, or selling -automobiles or bonds, in the city. Would any such work count for more -than all this--the wonderful swine and cattle and horses that you are -raising? Your father has built a great business, and you are helping -him to make it greater. Could you do anything in the city of which you -could be half so proud? No, but in the city you might find a thousand -things to do of which you might be terribly ashamed. If I were a man, -I’d like your chance!” - -“You’re not consistent. You have the same chance, but you tell us that -you are going back to the city. You have your grove here, and a home -and a good living, and yet you want to return to the city you inveigh -against.” - -“I do _not_ want to,” she declared. - -“I hope you don’t, then,” Custer said simply. - -They reached the house in time for a swim before dinner; but after -dinner, when they started for the ballroom to dance, Shannon threw up -her hands in surrender. - -“I give up!” she cried laughingly. “I tried to be game to the finish, -and I want ever so much to come and dance; but I don’t believe I could -even walk as far as the ballroom, much less dance after I got there. -Why, I doubt whether I’ll be able to get upstairs without crawling!” - -“You poor child!” exclaimed Mrs. Pennington. “We’ve nearly killed you, -I know. We are all so used to the long rides and walking and swimming -and dancing that we don’t realize how they tire unaccustomed muscles. -You go right to bed, my dear, and don’t think of getting up for -breakfast.” - -“Oh, but I want to get up and ride, if I may, and if Eva will wake me.” - -“She’s got the real stuff in her,” commented the colonel, after Shannon -had bid them good night and gone to her rooms. - -“I’ll say she has,” agreed Custer. “She’s a peach of a girl!” - -“She’s simply divine,” added Eva. - -In her room, Shannon could barely get into bed before she was asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -It was four o’clock the following morning before she awoke. The craving -awoke with her. It seized her mercilessly; yet even as she gave in to -it, she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had gone without the -little white powders longer this time than since she had first started -to use them. She took but a third of her normal dose. - -When Eva knocked at half past five, Shannon rose and dressed in frantic -haste, that she might escape a return of the desire. She did not escape -it entirely, but she was able to resist it until she was dressed and -out of reach of the little black case. - -That day she went with Custer and Eva and Guy to the country club, -returning only in time for a swim before dinner; and again she fought -off the craving while she was dressing for dinner. After dinner they -danced, and once more she was so physically tired when she reached -her rooms that she could think of nothing but sleep. The day of golf -had kept her fully occupied in the hot sun, and in such good company -her mind had been pleasantly occupied, too, so that she had not been -troubled by her old enemy. - -Again it was early morning before she was forced to fight the -implacable foe. She fought valiantly this time, but she lost. - -And so it went, day after day, as she dragged out her dwindling supply -and prolonged the happy hours of her all too brief respite from the -degradation of the life to which she knew she must soon return. Each -day it was harder to think of going back--of leaving these people, whom -she had come to love as she loved their lives and their surroundings, -and taking her place again in the stifling and degraded atmosphere -of the Vista del Paso bungalow. They were so good to her, and had so -wholly taken her into their family life, that she felt as one of them. -They shared everything with her. There was not a day that she did not -ride with Custer out among the brown hills. She knew that she was going -to miss these rides--that she was going to miss the man, too. He had -treated her as a man would like other men to treat his sister, with a -respect and deference that she had never met with in the City of Angels. - -Three weeks had passed. She had drawn out the week’s supply that Crumb -had doled out to her to this length, and there was even enough for -another week, to such small quantities had she reduced the doses, and -to such lengths had she increased the intervals between them. She had -gone two whole days without it; yet she did not once think that she -could give it up entirely, for when the craving came in full force she -was still powerless to withstand it, and she knew that she would always -be so. - -Without realizing it, she was building up a reserve force of health -that was to be her strongest ally in the battle to come. The sallowness -had left her; her cheeks were tanned and ruddy; her eyes sparkled with -the old fire, and were no longer wild and staring. She could ride and -walk and swim and dance with the best of them. She found interest in -the work of her orchard, where she went almost daily to talk with the -caretaker, to question him and to learn all that she could of citrus -culture. She even learned to drive the light tractor and steer it in -and out about the trees without barking them. - -Every day that she was there she went to the sunny bedroom in the -bungalow--the bedroom that had been her mother’s--and knelt beside the -bed and poured forth her heart in blind faith that her mother heard. -She did not grieve, for she held that sublime faith in the hereafter -which many profess and few possess--the faith which taught her that -her mother was happier than she had ever been before. Her sorrow had -been in her own loss, and this she fought down as selfishness. She -realized that her greatest anguish lay in vain regrets; and such -thoughts she sought to stifle, knowing their uselessness. - -Sometimes she prayed there--prayed for strength to cast off the bonds -of her servitude. Ineffectual prayers she knew them to be, for the only -power that could free her had lain within herself, and that power the -drug had undermined and permanently weakened. Her will had degenerated -to impotent wishes. - -And now the time had come when she must definitely set a date for her -departure. She had determined to retain the orchard, not alone because -she had seen that it would prove profitable, but because it would -always constitute a link between her and the people whom she had come -to love. No matter what the future held, she could always feel that a -part of her remained here, where she would that all of her might be; -but she knew that she must go, and she determined to tell them on the -following day that she would return to the city within the week. - -It was going to be hard to announce her decision, for she was not blind -to the fact that they had grown fond of her, and that her presence -meant much to Eva, who, since Grace’s departure, had greatly missed -the companionship of a girl near her own age. Mrs. Pennington and the -colonel had been a mother and father to her, and Custer a big brother -and a most charming companion. - -She passed that night without recourse to the white powders, for she -must be frugal of them if they were to last through the week. The next -morning she rode with the Penningtons and the Evanses as usual. She -would tell them at breakfast. - -When she came to the table she found a pair of silver spurs beside her -plate, and when she looked about in astonishment they were all smiling. - -“For me?” she cried. - -“From the Penningtons,” said the colonel. “You’ve won ’em, my dear. You -ride like a trooper already.” - -The girl choked, and the tears came to her eyes. - -“You are all so lovely to me!” she said. Walking around the table to -the colonel, she put her arms about his neck, and, standing on tiptoe, -kissed his cheek. “How can I ever thank you?” - -“You don’t have to, child. The spurs are nothing.” - -“They are everything to me. They are a badge of honor that--that--I -don’t deserve!” - -“But you do deserve them. You wouldn’t have got them if you hadn’t. We -might have given you something else--a vanity case or a book, perhaps; -but no one gets spurs from the Penningtons who does not _belong_.” - -After that she simply couldn’t tell them then that she was going -away. She would wait until to-morrow; but she laid her plans without -reference to the hand of fate. - -That afternoon, immediately after luncheon, they were all seated in -the patio, lazily discussing the chief topic of thought--the heat. -It was one of those sultry days that are really unusual in southern -California. The heat was absolutely oppressive, and even beneath the -canvas canopy that shaded the patio there was little relief. - -“I don’t know why we sit here,” said Custer. “It’s cooler in the house. -This is the hottest place on the ranch a day like this!” - -“Wouldn’t it be nice under one of those oaks up the cañon?” suggested -Shannon. - -He looked at her and smiled. - -“Phew! It’s too hot even to think of getting there.” - -“_That_ from a Pennington!” she cried in mock astonishment and reproach. - -“Do you mean to say that you’d ride up there through this heat?” he -demanded. - -“Of course I would. I haven’t christened my new spurs yet.” - -“I’m game, then, if you are,” Custer announced. - -She jumped to her feet. - -“Come on, then! Who else is going?” - -Shannon looked around at them questioningly. Mrs. Pennington shook her -head, smiling. - -“Not I. Before breakfast is enough for me in the summer time.” - -“I have to dictate some letters,” said the colonel. - -“And I suppose little Eva has to stay at home and powder her nose,” -suggested Custer, grinning at his sister. - -“Little Eva is going to drive over to Ganado with Guy Thackeray Evans, -the famous author,” said the girl. “He expects an express package--his -story’s coming back again. Horrid, stupid old editors! They don’t know -a real story when they see one. I’m in it--Guy put me in. You all ought -to read it--oh, it’s simply radiant! I’m _Hortense_--tall and willowy -and very dignified----” Eva made a grimace. - -“Yes, that’s you, unmistakably,” said Custer. “Tall and willowy and -very dignified--Guy’s some hot baby at character delineation!” - -Eva ignored the interruption. - -“I swoon when the villain enters my room and carries me off. Then the -hero--he’s _Bruce Bellinghame_, tall and slender, with curly hair----” - -“Is he very dignified, too?” - -“And then the hero pursues and rescues me just as the villain is going -to hurl me off a cliff--oh, it’s gorgeristic!” - -“It must be,” commented Custer. - -“You’re horrid,” said Eva. “You ought to have been an editor.” - -“Tall and slender, with curly hair,” gibed Custer. “Or was it tall and -curly, with slender hair? Come on, Shannon! I see where we are the only -real sports in the family.” - -“Hot sports is what you’re going to be!” Eva called after them. - -“The only real sports in the family--in the family!” The words thrilled -her. They had taken her in--they had made her a part of their life. It -was wonderful. Oh, God, if it could only last forever! - -It was very hot. The dust rose from the shuffling feet of their horses. -Even the Apache shuffled to-day. His head was low, and he did not -dance. The dust settled on sweating neck and flank, and filled the eyes -of the riders. - -“Lovely day for a ride,” commented Custer. - -“But think how nice it will be under the oak,” she reminded him. - -“I’m trying to.” - -Suddenly he raised his head as his wandering eyes sighted a slender -column of smoke rising from behind the ridge beyond Jackknife Cañon. He -reined in the Apache. - -“Fire!” he said to the girl. “Wait here. I’ll notify the boys, and -then we’ll ride on ahead and have a look at it. It may not amount to -anything.” - -He wheeled about and was off at a run--the heat and the dust forgotten. -She watched him go, erect in the saddle, swinging easily with every -motion of his mount--a part of the horse. In less than five minutes he -was back. - -“Come on!” he cried. - -She swung Baldy in beside the Apache, and they were off. The loose -stones clattered from the iron hoofs, the dust rose far behind them -now, and they had forgotten the heat. A short cut crossed a narrow wash -that meant a jump. - -“Grab the horn!” he cried to her. “Give him his head!” - -They went over almost stirrup to stirrup, and he smiled broadly, for -she had not grabbed the horn. She had taken the jump like a veteran. - -She thrilled with the excitement of the pace. The horses flattened -out--their backs seemed to vibrate in a constant plane--it was like -flying. The hot wind blew in her face and choked her; but she laughed -and wanted to shout aloud and swing a hat. - -More slowly they climbed the side of Jackknife, and just beyond the -ridge they saw the flames leaping in a narrow ravine below them. -Fortunately there was no wind--no more than what the fire itself was -making; but it was burning fiercely in thick brush. - -“There isn’t a thing to do,” he told her, “till the boys come with the -teams and plows and shovels. It’s in a mean place--too steep to plow, -and heavy brush; but we’ve got to stop it!” - -Presently the “boys”--a wagon full of them--came with four horses, two -walking plows, shovels, a barrel of water, and burlap sacks. They were -of all ages, from eighteen to seventy. Some of them had been twenty -years on the ranch, and had fought many a fire. They did not have to be -told what to bring or what to do with what they brought. - -The wagon had to be left in Jackknife Cañon. The horses dragged the -plows to the ridge, and the men carried the shovels and wet burlaps -and buckets of water from the barrel. Custer dismounted and turned the -Apache over to an old man to hold. - -“Plow down the east side of the ravine. Try to get all the way around -the south side of the fire and then back again,” he directed the two -men with one of the teams. “I’ll take the other, with Jake, and we’ll -try to cut her off across the top here!” - -“You can’t do it, Cus,” said one of the older men. “It’s too steep.” - -“We’ve got to try it,” said Pennington. “Otherwise we’d have to go back -so far that it would get away from us on the east side before we made -the circle. Jake, you choke the plow handles--I’ll drive!” - -Jake was a short, stocky, red-headed boy of twenty, with shoulders like -a bull. He grinned good-naturedly. - -“I’ll choke the tar out of ’em!” he said. - -“The rest of you shovel and beat like hell!” ordered Custer. - -Shannon watched him as he took the reins and started the team forward, -slowly, quietly. There was no yelling. They were horsemen, these men -of Ganado. The great Percherons moved ponderously forward. The plow -point bit deep into the earth, but the huge beasts walked on as if -dragging an empty wagon. - -When the girl saw where Custer was guiding them she held her breath. -No, she must be mistaken! He would turn them up toward the ridge. -He could not be thinking of trying to drive them across the steep, -shelving side of the ravine! - -But he was. They slipped and caught themselves. Directly below them the -burning brush had become a fiery furnace. If ever they failed to catch -themselves, nothing could save them from that hell of heat. - -Jake, clinging to the plow handles, stumbled and slid, but the plow -steadied him, and the furrow saved his footing a dozen times in as many -yards. Custer, driving, walked just below the plow. How he kept the -team going was a miracle to the girl. - -The steep sides of the ravine seemed almost perpendicular in places, -with footing fit only for a goat. How those heavy horses clung there -was beyond her. Only implicit confidence in these men of Ganado, who -had handled them from the time they were foaled, and great courage, -could account for it. - -What splendid animals they were! The crackling of burning brush, the -roaring of the flames, the almost unbearable heat that swept up to -them from below, must have been terrifying; and yet only by occasional -nervous side glances and uppricked ears did they acknowledge their -instinctive fear of fire. - -At first it had seemed to Shannon a mad thing to attempt, but as she -watched and realized what Custer sought to accomplish, she understood -the wisdom of it. If he could check the flames here with a couple of -furrows, he might gain time to stop its eastward progress to the broad -pastures filled with the tinder-dry grasses and brush of late August. - -Already some of the men were working with shovels, just above the -furrow that the plow was running, clearing away the brush and throwing -it back. Shannon watched these men, and there was not a shirker among -them. They worked between the fierce heat of the sun and the fierce -heat of the fire, each one of them as if he owned the ranch. It was -fine proof of loyalty; and she saw an indication of the reason for it -in Custer’s act when he turned the Apache over to the oldest man, in -order that the veteran might not be called upon to do work beyond his -strength, while young Pennington himself undertook a dangerous and -difficult part in the battle. - -The sight thrilled her; and beside this picture she saw Wilson Crumb -directing a Western scene, sending mounted men over a steep cliff, -while he sat in safety beside the camera man, hurling taunts and -insults at the poor devils who risked their lives for five dollars a -day. He had killed one horse that time and sent two men to hospital, -badly injured--and the next day he had bragged about it! - -Now they were across the ravine and moving along the east side on safer -footing. Shannon realized the tension that had been upon her nerves -when reaction followed the lessening of the strain--she felt limp and -fagged. - -The smoke hid them from her occasionally, as it rose in cloudlike -puffs. Then there would be a break in it, and she would see the black -coats of the Percherons and the figures of the sweating men. They -rounded well down the east side of the ravine and then turned back -again; for the other team, with easier going, would soon be up on that -side to join its furrow with theirs. They were running the second -furrow just above the first, and this time the work seemed safer, for -the horses had the first furrow below them should they slip--a ridge of -loose earth that would give them footing. - -They were more than halfway back when it happened. The off horse must -have stepped upon a loose stone, so suddenly did he lurch to the left, -striking the shoulder of his mate just as the latter had planted his -left forefoot. The ton of weight hurled against the shoulder of the -near horse threw him downward against the furrow. He tried to catch -himself on his right foot, crossed his forelegs, stumbled over the -ridge of newly turned earth, and rolled down the hill, dragging his -mate and the plow after him toward the burning brush below. - -Jake at the plow handles and Custer on the lines tried to check the -horses’ fall, but both were jerked from their hands, and the two -Percherons rolled over and over into the burning brush. A groan of -dismay went up from the men. It was with difficulty that Shannon -stifled a scream; and then her heart stood still as she saw Custer -Pennington leap deliberately down the hillside, drawing the long, heavy -trail-cutting knife that he always wore on the belt with his gun. - -The horses were struggling and floundering to gain their feet. One of -them was screaming with pain. The girl wanted to cover her eyes with -her palms to shut out the heart-rending sight, but she could not take -them from the figure of the man. - -She saw that the upper horse was so entangled with the harness and the -plow that he could not rise, and that he was holding the other down. -Then she saw the man leap into the midst of the struggling, terrified -mass of horseflesh, seeking to cut the beasts loose from the tangled -traces and the plow. It seemed impossible that he could escape the -flying hoofs or the tongued flames that licked upward as if in hungry -greed to seize this new prey. - -As Shannon watched, a great light awoke within her, suddenly revealing -the unsuspected existence of a wondrous thing that had come into her -life--a thing which a moment later dragged her from her saddle and sent -her stumbling down the hill into the burning ravine, to the side of -Custer Pennington. - -He had cut one horse free, seized its headstall, dragged it to its -feet, and then started it scrambling up the hill. As he was returning -to the other, the animal struggled up, crazed with terror and pain, -and bolted after its mate. Pennington was directly in its path on the -steep hillside. He tried to leap aside, but the horse struck him with -its shoulder, hurling him to the ground, and before he could stop his -fall he was at the edge of the burning brush, stunned and helpless. - -Every man of them who saw the accident leaped down the hillside to save -him from the flames; but quick as they were, Shannon Burke was first to -his side, vainly endeavoring to drag him to safety. An instant later -strong hands seized both Custer and Shannon and helped them up the -steep acclivity, for Pennington had already regained consciousness, and -it was not necessary to carry him. - -Custer was badly burned, but his first thought was for the girl, and -his next, when he found she was uninjured, for the horses. They had -run for only a short distance and were standing on the ridge above -Jackknife, where one of the men had caught them. One was burned about -the neck and shoulder; the other had a bad cut above the hock, where he -had struck the plow point in his struggles. - -“Take them in and take care of those wounds, Jake,” said Pennington, -after examining them. “You go along,” he told another of the men, “and -bring out Dick and Dave. I don’t like to risk them in this work, but -none of the colts are steady enough for this.” - -Then he turned to Shannon. - -“Why did you go down into that?” he asked. “You shouldn’t have done -it--with all the men here.” - -“I couldn’t help it,” she said. “I thought you were going to be killed.” - -Custer looked at her searchingly for a moment. - -“It was a very brave thing to do,” he said, “and a very foolish thing. -You might have been badly burned.” - -“Never mind that,” she said. “_You_ have been badly burned, and you -must go to the house at once. Do you think you can ride?” - -He laughed. - -“I’m all right,” he said. “I’ve got to stay here and fight this fire.” - -“You are not going to do anything of the kind.” She turned and called -to the man who held Pennington’s horse. “Please bring the Apache over -here,” she said. “These men can fight the fire without you,” she told -Custer. “You are going right back with me. You’ve never seen any one -badly burned, or you’d know how necessary it is to take care of your -burns at once.” - -He was not accustomed to being ordered about, and it amused him. Grace -would never have thought of questioning his judgment in this or any -other matter; but this girl’s attitude implied that she considered his -judgment faulty and his decisions of no consequence. She evidently had -the courage of her convictions, for she caught up her own horse and -rode over to the men, who had resumed their work, to tell them that -Custer was too badly burned to remain with them. - -“I told him that he must go back to the house and have his burns -dressed; but he doesn’t want to. Maybe he would pay more attention to -you, if you told him.” - -“Sure, we’ll tell him,” cried one of them. “Here comes Colonel -Pennington now. He’ll make him go, if it’s necessary.” - -Colonel Pennington reined in a dripping horse beside his son, and -Shannon rode over to them. Custer was telling him about the accident to -the team. - -“Burned, was he?” exclaimed the colonel. “Why damn it, man, _you’re_ -burned!” - -“It’s nothing,” replied the younger man. - -“It _is_ something, colonel,” cried Shannon. “Please make him go back -to the house. He won’t pay any attention to me, and he ought to be -cared for right away. He should have a doctor just as quickly as we can -get one.” - -“Can you ride?” snapped the colonel at Custer. - -“Of course I can ride!” - -“Then get out of here and take care of yourself. Will you go with him, -Shannon? Have them call Dr. Baldwin.” - -His rough manner did not conceal the father’s concern, or his deep love -for his boy. That he could be as gentle as a woman was evidenced, when -he dismounted, in the way that he helped Custer to his saddle. - -“Take care of him, my dear,” he said to Shannon. “I’ll stay here and -help the boys. Ask Mrs. Pennington to send the car out with some iced -water or lemonade for them. Take care of yourself, boy!” he called -after them as they rode away. - -As the horses moved slowly along the dusty trail, Shannon, riding a -pace behind the man, watched his profile for signs of pain, that she -knew he must be suffering. Once, when he winced, she almost gave a -little cry, as if it had been she who was tortured. They were riding -very close, and she laid her hand gently upon his right arm, in -sympathy. - -“I am so sorry!” she said. “I know it must pain you terribly.” - -He turned to her with a smile on his face, now white and drawn. - -“It does hurt a little now,” he said. - -“And you did it to save those two dumb brutes. I think it was -magnificent, Custer!” - -He looked at her in mild surprise. - -“What was there magnificent about it? It was my duty. My father has -always taught me that the ownership of animals entails certain moral -obligations which no honorable man can ignore--that it isn’t sufficient -merely to own them, and feed them, and house them; but to serve and -protect them, even if it entailed sacrifices to do so.” - -“I don’t believe he meant that you should give your life for them,” she -said. - -“No, of course not; but I am not giving my life.” - -“You might have.” - -“I really didn’t think there would be any danger to me,” he said. -“I guess I didn’t think anything about it. I saw those two beautiful -animals, who had been working there for me so bravely, helpless at the -edge of that fire, and I couldn’t have helped doing what I did under -any circumstances. You don’t know, Shannon, how we Penningtons love our -horses. It’s been bred in the bone for generations. Perhaps it’s silly; -but we don’t think so.” - -“Neither do I. It’s fine.” - -By the time they reached the house she could see that the man was -suffering excruciating pain. The stableman had gone to help the fire -fighters, as had every able-bodied man on the ranch, so that she had to -help Custer from the Apache. After tying the two horses at the stable, -she put an arm about him and assisted him up the long flight of steps -to the house. There Mrs. Pennington and Hannah came at her call and -took him to his room, while she ran to the office to telephone for the -doctor. - -When she returned, they had Custer undressed and in bed, and were -giving such first aid as they could. She stood in the doorway for a -moment, watching him, as he fought to hide the agony he was enduring. -He rolled his head slowly from side to side, as his mother and Hannah -worked over him; but he stifled even a faint moan, though Shannon knew -that his tortured body must be goading him to screams. He opened his -eyes and saw her, and tried to smile. - -Mrs. Pennington turned then and discovered her. - -“Please let me do something, Mrs. Pennington, if there is anything I -can do.” - -“I guess we can’t do much until the doctor comes. If we only had -something to quiet the pain until then!” - -If they only had something to quiet the pain. The horror of it! She had -something that would quiet the pain; but at what a frightful cost to -herself must she divulge it! They would know, then, the sordid story -of her vice. There could be no other explanation of her having such an -outfit in her possession. How they would loathe her! To see disgust -in the eyes of these friends, whose good opinion was her one cherished -longing, seemed a punishment too great to bear. - -And then there was the realization of that new force that had entered -her life with the knowledge that she loved Custer Pennington. It was a -hopeless love, she knew; but she might at least have had the happiness -of knowing that he respected her. Was she to be spared nothing? Was her -sin to deprive her of even the respect of the man whom she loved? - -She saw him lying there, and saw the muscles of his jaws tensing as -he battled to conceal his pain; and then she turned and ran up the -stairway to her rooms. She did not hesitate again, but went directly to -her bag, unlocked it, and took out the little black case. Carefully she -dissolved a little of the white powder--a fraction of what she could -have taken without danger of serious results, but enough to allay his -suffering until the doctor came. She knew that this was the end--that -she might not remain under that roof another night. - -She drew the liquid through the needle into the glass barrel of the -syringe, wrapped it in her handkerchief, and descended the stairs. She -felt as if she moved in a dream. She felt that she was not Shannon -Burke at all, but another whom Shannon Burke watched with pitying eyes; -for it did not seem possible that she could enter that room and before -his eyes and Mrs. Pennington’s and Hannah’s reveal the thing that she -carried in her handkerchief. - -Ah, the pity of it! To realize her first love, and in the same hour to -slay the respect of its object with her own hand! Yet she entered the -room with a brave step, fearlessly. Had he not risked his life for the -two dumb brutes he loved? Could she be less courageous? Perhaps though, -she was braver, for she was knowingly surrendering what was dearer to -her than life. - -Mrs. Pennington turned toward her as she entered. - -“He has fainted,” she said. “My poor boy!” - -Tears stood in his mother’s eyes. - -“He is not suffering, then?” asked Shannon, trembling. - -“Not now. For his sake, I hope he won’t recover consciousness until -after the doctor comes.” - -Shannon Burke staggered and would have fallen had she not grasped the -frame of the door. - -It was not long before the doctor came, and then she went back up the -stairs to her rooms, still trembling. She took the filled hypodermic -syringe from her handkerchief and looked at it. Then she carried it -into the bathroom. - -“You can never tempt me again,” she said aloud, as she emptied its -contents into the lavatory. “Oh, dear God, I love him!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -That night Shannon insisted upon taking her turn at Custer’s bedside, -and she was so determined that they could not refuse her. He was still -suffering, but not so acutely. The doctor had left morphine, with -explicit directions for its administration should it be required. The -burns, while numerous, and reaching from his left ankle to his cheek, -were superficial, and, though painful, not necessarily dangerous. - -He slept but little, and when he was awake he wanted to talk. He told -her about Grace. It was his first confidence--a sweetly sad one--for he -was a reticent man concerning those things that were nearest his heart -and consequently the most sacred to him. He had not heard from Grace -for some time, and her mother had had but one letter--a letter that had -not sounded like Grace at all. They were anxious about her. - -“I wish she would come home!” he said wistfully. “You would like her, -Shannon. We could have such bully times together! I think I would -be content here if Grace were back; but without her it seems very -different, and very lonely. You know we have always been together, all -of us, since we were children--Grace, Eva, Guy, and I; and now that you -are here it would be all the better, for you are just like us. You seem -like us, at least--as if you had always lived here, too.” - -“It’s nice to have you say that; but I haven’t always been here, and, -really, you know I don’t _belong_.” - -“But you do belong!” - -“And I’m going away again pretty soon. I must go back to the city.” - -“Please don’t go back,” he begged. “You don’t really have to, do you?” - -“I had intended telling you all this morning; but after the spurs, I -couldn’t.” - -“Do you _really_ have to go?” Custer insisted. - -“I don’t have to, but I think I ought to. Do you want me to -stay--honestly?” - -“Honest Injun!” he said, smiling. - -“Maybe I will.” - -He reached over with his right hand and took hers. - -“Oh, will you?” he exclaimed. “You don’t know how much we want you--all -of us.” - -It was precisely what he might have done or said to Eva in boyish -affection and comradeship. - -“I’m going to stay,” she announced. “I’ve made up my mind. As soon as -you are well I’m going to move down to my own place and really learn to -work it. I’d love it!” - -“And I’ll come down and help you with what little I know about oranges. -Father will, too. We don’t know much--citrus growing is a little out of -our line, though we have a small orchard here; but we’ll give you the -best we’ve got. And it’ll be fine for Eva--she loves you. She cried the -other day--the last time you mentioned in earnest that you might not -stay.” - -“She’s a dear!” - -“She is all of that,” he said. “We have always had our fights--I -suppose all brothers and sisters do--and we kid one another a lot; but -there never was a sister like Eva. Just let any one else say anything -against me! They’d have a fight on their hands right there, if Eva was -around. And sunshine! The old place seems like a morgue every time she -goes away.” - -“She worships you, Custer.” - -“She’s a brick!” - -He could have voiced no higher praise. - -He asked about the fire, and especially about the horses. He was -delighted when she told him that a man had just come down to say that -the fire was practically out, and the colonel was coming in shortly; -and that the veterinary had been there and found the team not seriously -injured. - -“I think that fire was incendiary,” he said; “but now that Slick Allen -is in jail, I don’t know who would set it.” - -“Who is Slick Allen,” she asked, “and why should he want to set fire to -Ganado?” - -He told her, and she was silent for a while, thinking about Allen and -the last time she had seen him. She wondered what he would do when he -got out of jail. She would hate to be in Wilson Crumb’s boots then, for -she guessed that Allen was a hard character. - -While she was thinking of Allen, Custer mentioned Guy Evans. Instantly -there came to her mind, for the first time since that last evening at -the Vista del Paso bungalow, Crumb’s conversation with Allen and the -latter’s account of the disposition of the stolen whisky. His very -words returned to her. - -“Got a young high-blood at the edge of the valley handling it--a fellow -by the name of Evans.” - -She had not connected Allen or that conversation or the Evans he had -mentioned with these people; but now she knew that it was Guy Evans -who was disposing of the stolen liquor. She wondered if Allen would -return to this part of the country after he was released from jail. If -he did, and saw her, he would be sure to recognize her, for he must -have had her features impressed upon his memory by the fact that she so -resembled some one he had known. - -If he recognized her, would be expose her? She did not doubt but that -he would. The chances were that he would attempt to blackmail her; but, -worst of all, he might tell Crumb where she was. That was the thing -she dreaded most--seeing Wilson Crumb again, or having him discover -her whereabouts; for she knew that he would leave no stone unturned, -and hesitate to stoop to no dishonorable act, to get her back again. -She shuddered when she thought of him--a man whose love, even, was a -dishonorable and dishonoring thing. - -Then she turned her eyes to the face of the man lying there on the bed -beside which she sat. He would never love her; but her love for him had -already ennobled her. - -If the people of her old life did not discover her hiding place, she -could remain here on her little grove, near Ganada, and see Custer -often--nearly every day. He would not guess her love--no one would -guess it; but she should be happy just to be near him. Even if Grace -returned, it would make no difference--even if Grace and Custer were -married. Shannon knew that he was not for her--no honorable man was -for her, after what she had been--but there was no moral law to be -transgressed by her secret love for him. - -She felt no jealousy for Grace. He belonged to Grace, and even had she -thought she might win him she would not have attempted it, for she had -always held in contempt those who infringed selfishly upon settled -affections. It would be hard for her, of course, when Grace returned; -but she was determined to like her, even to love her. She would be -untrue to this new love that had transfigured her should she fail to -love what _he_ loved. - -Custer moved restlessly. Again he was giving evidence of suffering. She -laid a cool palm upon his forehead, and stroked it. He opened his eyes -and smiled up at her. - -“It’s bully of you to sit with me,” he said; “but you ought to be in -bed. You’ve had a pretty hard day, and you’re not as used to it as we -are.” - -“I am not tired,” she said, “and I should like to stay--if you would -like to have me.” - -He took her hand from his forehead and kissed it. - -“Of course I like to have you here, Shannon--you’re just like a sister. -It’s funny, isn’t it, that we should all feel that way about you, when -we’ve only known you a few weeks? It must have been because of the way -you fitted in. You belonged right from the start--you were just like -us.” - -She turned her head away suddenly, casting her eyes upon the floor and -biting her lip to keep back the tears. - -“What’s the matter?” he asked. - -“I am not like you, Custer; but I have tried hard to be.” - -“Why aren’t you like us?” he demanded. - -“I--why, I--couldn’t ride a horse,” she explained lamely. - -“Don’t make me laugh, please; my face is burned,” he pleaded in mock -irony. “Do you think that’s all we know, or think of, or possess--our -horsemanship? We have hearts, and minds, such as they are--and souls, -I hope. It was of these things that I was thinking. I was thinking, -too, that we Penningtons demand a higher standard in women than is -customary nowadays. We are a little old-fashioned, I guess. We want the -blood of our horses and the minds of our women pure. Here is a case -in point--I can tell you, because you don’t know the girl and never -will. She was the daughter of a friend of Cousin William--our New York -cousin. She was spending the winter in Pasadena, and we had her out -here on Cousin William’s account. She was a pippin of a looker, and I -suppose she was all right morally; but she didn’t have a clean mind. I -discovered it about the first time I talked with her alone; and then -Eva asked me a question about something that she couldn’t have known -about at all except through this girl. I didn’t know what to do. She -was a girl, and so I couldn’t talk about her to any one, not even my -father or mother; but I didn’t want her around Eva. I wondered if I was -just a narrow prig, and if, after all, there was nothing that any one -need take exception to in the girl. I got to analyzing the thing, and -I came to the conclusion that I would be ashamed of mother and Eva if -they talked or thought along such lines. Consequently, it wasn’t right -to expose Eva to that influence. That was what I decided, and I don’t -just _think_ I was right--I _know_ I was.” - -“And what did you do?” Shannon asked in a very small voice. - -“I did what under any other circumstances would have been unpardonable. -I went to the girl and asked her to make some excuse that would -terminate her visit. It was a very hard thing to do; but I would do -more than that--I would sacrifice my most cherished friendship--for -Eva.” - -“And the girl--did you tell her why you asked her to go?” - -“I didn’t want to, but she insisted, and I told her.” - -“Did she understand?” - -“She did not.” - -They were silent for some time. - -“Do you think I did wrong?” he asked. - -“No. There is mental virtue as well as physical. It is as much your -duty to protect your sister’s mind as to protect her body.” - -“I knew you’d think as I do about it; but let me tell you it was an -awful jolt to the cherished Pennington hospitality. I hope I never have -to do it again!” - -“I hope you never do.” - -He commenced to show increasing signs of suffering, presently, and then -he asked for morphine. - -“I don’t want to take it unless I have to,” he explained. - -“No,” she said, “do not take it unless you have to.” - -She prepared and administered it, but she felt no desire for it -herself. Then Eva came to relieve her, and she bade them good night -and went up to bed. She awoke about four o’clock in the morning, and -immediately thought of the little black case; but she only smiled, -turned over, and went back to sleep again. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -It was several weeks before Custer could ride again, and in the -meantime Shannon had gone down to her own place to live. She came up -every day on Baldy, who had been loaned to her until Custer should be -able to select a horse for her. She insisted that she would own nothing -but a Morgan, and that she wanted one of the Apache’s brothers. - -“You’ll have to wait, then, until I can break one for you,” Custer told -her. “There are a couple of four-year-olds that are saddle-broke and -bridle-wise in a way; but I wouldn’t want you to ride either of them -until they’ve had the finishing touches. I want to ride them enough to -learn their faults, if they have any. In the meantime you just keep -Baldy down there and use him. How’s ranching? You look as if it agreed -with you. Nobody’d know you for the same girl. You look like an Indian, -and how your cheeks have filled out!” - -The girl smiled happily. - -“I never knew before what it was to live,” she said. “I have never -been sickly; but on the other hand I never _felt_ health before, to -know it was a tangible, enjoyable possession that one experienced and -was conscious of every moment. People fill themselves with medicines, -or drugs, or liquors, to induce temporarily a poor imitation of what -they might enjoy constantly if they only would. A man who thinks that a -drink is the only thing that can make one feel like shouting and waving -one’s hat should throw a leg over one of your Morgans before breakfast -one of these cool September mornings, and give him his head and let him -go. Oh, _boy_!” she cried. “_There’s_ intoxication for you!” - -Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dancing. She was a picture of life -and health and happiness; and Custer’s eyes were sparkling, too. - -“Gee!” he exclaimed. “You’re a regular Pennington!” - -“I wish I were!” the girl thought to herself. “You honor me,” was what -she said aloud. - -Custer laughed. - -“That sounded rotten, didn’t it? But you know what I meant--it’s nice -to have people whom we like like the same things we do. It doesn’t -necessarily mean that we think our likes are the best in the world. I -didn’t mean to be egotistical.” - -Eva had just entered the patio. - -“Listen to him, the radiant child!” she exclaimed. “Do you know, -Shannon, that dear little brother just hates himself!” - -She walked over and perched on his knee and kissed him. - -“Yes,” said Custer, “brother hates himself. He spends hours powdering -his nose. Mother found a lip stick and an eyebrow pencil, or whatever -you call it, in his dressing table recently; and when he goes to L. A. -he has his eyebrows plucked.” - -Eva jumped from his knee and stamped her foot. - -“I _never_ had my eyebrows plucked!” she cried. “They’re naturally this -way.” - -“Why the excitement, little one? Did I say you did have them plucked?” - -“Well, you tried to make Shannon think so. I got the lip stick and -the other things so that if we have any amateur theatricals this -winter I’ll have them. Do you know, I think I’ll go on the stage or -the screen--wouldn’t it be splishous, though?--‘Miss Eva Pennington -is starring in the new and popular success based on the story by Guy -Thackeray Evans, the eminent author!’” - -“Eminent! He isn’t even imminent,” said Custer. - -“Oh, Eva!” cried Shannon, genuine concern in her tone. “Surely you -wouldn’t _think_ of the screen, would you? You’re not serious?” - -“Oh, yes,” said Custer. “She’s serious--serious is her middle name. -To-morrow she will want to be a painter, and day after to-morrow the -world’s most celebrated harpist. Eva is nothing if not serious, while -her tenacity of purpose is absolutely inspiring. Why, once, for one -whole day, she wanted to do the same thing.” - -Eva was laughing with her brother and Shannon. - -“If she were just like every one else, you wouldn’t love your little -sister any more,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. -“Honestly, ever since I met Wilson Crumb, I have thought I should like -to be a movie star.” - -“Wilson Crumb!” exclaimed Shannon. “What do _you_ know of Wilson Crumb?” - -“Oh, I’ve met him,” said Eva airily. “Don’t you envy me?” - -“What do you know about him, Shannon?” asked Custer. “Your tone -indicated that you may have heard something about him that wasn’t -complimentary.” - -“No--I don’t know him. It’s only what I’ve heard. I don’t think you’d -like him.” Shannon almost shuddered at the thought of this dear child -even so much as knowing Wilson Crumb. “Oh, Eva!” she cried impulsively. -“You mustn’t even think of going into pictures. I lived in Los Angeles -long enough to learn that the life is oftentimes a hard one, filled -with disappointment, disillusionment, and regrets--principally regrets.” - -“And Grace is there now,” said Custer in a low voice, a worried look in -his eyes. - -“Can’t you persuade her to return?” - -He shook his head. - -“It wouldn’t be fair,” he said. “She is trying to succeed, and we ought -to encourage her. It is probably hard enough for her at best, without -all of us suggesting antagonism to her ambition by constantly urging -her to abandon it, so we try to keep our letters cheerful.” - -“Have you been to see her since she left? No, I know you haven’t. If I -were you, I’d run down to L. A. It might mean a lot to her, Custer; it -might mean more than you can guess.” - -The girl spoke from a full measure of bitter experience. She realized -what it might have meant to her had there been some man like this to -come to her when she had needed the strong arm of a clean love to drag -her from the verge of the mire. She would have gone away with such a -man--gone back home, and thanked God for the opportunity. If Grace -loved Custer, and was encountering the malign forces that had arisen -from their own corruption to claw at Shannon’s skirts, she would come -back with him. - -On the other hand, should conditions be what they ought to be, and -what they are in some studios, Custer would return with a report that -would lift a load from the hearts of all of them, while it left Grace -encouraged and inspired by the active support of those most dear to -her. What it would mean to Shannon, in either event, the girl did not -consider. Her soul was above jealousy. She was prompted only by a -desire to save another from the anguish she had endured, and to bring -happiness to the man she loved. - -“You really think I ought to go?” Custer asked. “You know she has -insisted that none of us should come. She said she wanted to do it all -on her own, without any help. Grace is not only very ambitious, but -very proud. I’m afraid she might not like it.” - -“I wouldn’t care what she liked,” said Shannon. “Either you or Guy -should run down there and see her. You are the two men most vitally -interested in her. No girl should be left alone long in Hollywood -without some one to whom she can look for the right sort of guidance -and--and--protection.” - -“I believe I’ll do it,” said Custer. “I can’t get away right now; but -I’ll run down there before I go on to Chicago with the show herds for -the International.” - -It was shortly after this that Custer began to ride again, and Shannon -usually rode with him. Unconsciously he had come to depend upon her -companionship more and more. He had been drinking less on account of -it, for it had broken a habit which he had been forming since Grace’s -departure--that of carrying a flask with him on his lonely rides -through the hills. - -As a small boy, it had been Custer’s duty, as well as his pleasure, to -“ride fence.” He had continued the custom long after it might have been -assigned to an employee, not only because it had meant long, pleasant -hours in the saddle with Grace, but also to get first-hand knowledge of -the condition of the pastures and the herds, as well as of the fences. -During his enforced idleness, while recovering from his burns, the duty -had devolved upon Jake. - -On the first day that Custer took up the work again, Jake had called -his attention to a matter that had long been a subject of discussion -and conjecture on the part of the employees. - -“There’s something funny goin’ on back in them hills,” said Jake. “I’ve -seen fresh signs every week of horses and burros comin’ and goin’. -Sometimes they trail through El Camino Largo and again through Corto, -an’ they’ve even been down through the old goat corral once, plumb -through the ranch, an’ out the west gate. But what I can’t tell for sure -is whether they come in an’ go out, or go out an’ come in. Whoever does -it is foxy. Their two trails never cross, an’ they must be made within -a few hours of each other, for I’m not Injun enough to tell which is -freshest--the one comin’ to Ganado or the one goin’ out. An’ then they -muss it up by draggin’ brush, so it’s hard to tell how many they be of -’em. It’s got me.” - -“They head for Jackknife, don’t they?” asked Custer. - -“Sometimes, an’ sometimes they go straight up Sycamore, an’ again they -head in or out of half a dozen different little barrancos comin’ down -from the east; but sooner or later I lose ’em--can’t never follow ’em -no place in particular. Looks like as if they split up.” - -“Maybe it’s only greasers from the valley coming up after firewood at -night.” - -“Mebbe,” said Jake; “but that don’t sound reasonable.” - -“I know it doesn’t; but I can’t figure out what else it can be. I found -a trail up above Jackknife last spring, and maybe that had something to -do with it. I’ve sure got to follow that up. The trouble has been that -it doesn’t lead where the stock ever goes, and I haven’t had time to -look into it. Do you think they come up here regularly?” - -“We got it doped out that it’s always Friday nights. I see the tracks -Saturday mornings, and some of the boys say they’ve heard ’em along -around midnight a couple of times.” - -“What gates do they go out by?” - -“They use all four of ’em at different times.” - -“H-m! Padlock all the gates to-morrow. This is Thursday. Then we’ll see -what happens.” - -They did see, for on the following Saturday, when Custer rode fence, he -found it cut close by one of the padlocked gates--the gate that opened -into the mouth of Horse Camp Cañon. Shannon was with him, and she was -much excited at this evidence of mystery so close at home. - -“What in the world do you suppose they can be doing?” she asked. - -“I don’t know; but it’s something they shouldn’t be doing, or they -wouldn’t go to so much pains to cover their tracks. They evidently -passed in and out at this point, but they’ve brushed out their tracks -on both sides, so that you can’t tell which way they went last. Look -here! On both sides of the fence the trail splits. It’s hard to say -which was made first, and where they passed through the fence. One -track must have been on top of the other, but they’ve brushed it out.” - -He had dismounted, and was on his knees, examining the spoor beyond the -fence. - -“I believe,” he said presently, “that the fresher trail is the one -going toward the hills, although the other one is heavier. Here’s a -rabbit track that lies on top of the track of a horse’s hoof pointed -toward the valley, and over here a few yards the same rabbit track -is obliterated by the track of horses and burros coming up from the -valley. The rabbit must have come across here after they went down, -stepping on top of their tracks, and when they came up again they -crossed on top of his. That’s pretty plain, isn’t it?” - -“Yes; but the tracks going down are much plainer than those going up. -Wouldn’t that indicate that they were fresher?” - -“That’s what I thought until I saw this evidence introduced by Brer -Rabbit--and it’s conclusive, too. Let’s look along here a little -farther. I have an idea that I have an idea.” - -“One of Eva’s ‘dapper little ideas,’ perhaps!” - -He bent close above first one trail and then another, following them -down toward the valley. Shannon walked beside him, leading Baldy. -Sometimes, as they knelt above the evidence imprinted in the dusty -soil, their shoulders touched. The contact thrilled the girl with sweet -delight, and the fact that it left him cold did not sadden her. She -knew that he was not for her. It was enough that she might be near him -and love him. She did not want him to love her--that would have been -the final tragedy of her life. - -For the most part the trail was obliterated by brush, which seemed to -have been dragged behind the last horse; but here and there was the -imprint of the hoof of a horse, or, again, of a burro, so that the -story that Custer pieced out was reasonably clear--as far as it went. - -“I think I’ve got a line on it,” he said presently. “Two men rode along -here on horses. One horse was shod, the other was not. One rider went -ahead, the other brought up the rear, and between them were several -burros. Going down, the burros carried heavy loads; coming back, they -carried nothing.” - -“How do you know all that?” she asked rather incredulously. - -“I don’t _know_ it, but it seems the most logical deduction from these -tracks. It is easy to tell the horse tracks from those of the burros, -and to tell that there were at least two horses, because it is plain -that a shod horse and an unshod horse passed along here. That one -horse--the one with shoes--went first is evident from the fact that -you always see the imprints of burro hoofs, or the hoofs of an unshod -horse, or both superimposed on his. That the other horse brought up -the rear is equally plain from the fact that no other tracks lie on -top of his. Now, if you will look close, and compare several of these -horse tracks, you will notice that there is little or no difference -in the appearance of those leading into the valley and those leading -out; but you can see that the burro tracks leading down are more deeply -imprinted than those leading up. To me that means that those burros -carried heavy loads down and came back light. How does it sound?” - -“It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “It is all that I can do to see that -anything has been along here.” - -“It’s not wonderful,” he replied. “An experienced tracker would tell -you how many horses there were, how many burros, how many hours had -elapsed since they came down out of the hills, how many since they -returned, and the names of the grandmothers of both riders.” - -Shannon laughed. - -“I’m glad you’re not an experienced tracker, then,” she said, “for -now I can believe what you have told me. And I still think it very -wonderful, and very delightful, too, to be able to read stories--true -stories--in the trampled dust where men and animals have passed.” - -“There is nothing very remarkable about it. Just look at the Apache’s -hoofprints, for instance. See how the hind differ from the fore.” - -Custer pointed to them as he spoke, calling attention to the fact that -the Apache’s hind shoes were squared off at the toe. - -“And now compare them with Baldy’s,” he said. “See how different the -two hoofprints are. Once you know them, you could never confuse one -with the other. But the part of the story that would interest me most -I can’t read--who they are, what they were packing out of the hills on -these burros, where they came from, and where they went. Let’s follow -down and see where they went in the valley. The trail must pass right -by the Evanses’ hay barn.” - -The Evanses’ hay barn! A great light illuminated Shannon’s memory. -Allen had said, that last night at the bungalow, that the contraband -whisky was hauled away on a truck, that it was concealed beneath hay, -and that a young man named Evans handled it. - -What was she to do? She dared not reveal this knowledge to Custer, -because she could not explain how she came into possession of it. Nor, -for the same reason, could she warn Guy Evans, had she thought that -necessary--which she was sure it was not, since Custer would not expose -him. She concluded that all she could do was to let events take their -own course. - -She followed Custer as he traced the partially obliterated tracks -through a field of barley stubble. A hundred yards west of the hay -barn the trail entered a macadam road at right angles, and there it -disappeared. There was no telling whether the little caravan had turned -east or west, for it left no spoor upon the hard surface of the paved -road. - -“Well, _Watson_!” said Custer, turning to her with a grin. “What do you -make of this?” - -“Nothing.” - -“Nothing? _Watson_, I am surprised. Neither do I.” He turned his -horse back toward the cut fence. “There’s no use looking any farther -in this direction. I don’t know that it’s even worth while following -the trail back into the hills, for the chances are that they have it -well covered. What I’ll do is to lay for them next Friday night. Maybe -they’re not up to any mischief, but it looks suspicious; and if they -are, I’d rather catch them here with the goods than follow them up into -the hills, where about all I’d accomplish would probably be to warn -them that they were being watched. I’m sorry now I had those gates -locked, for it will have put them on their guard. We’ll just fix up -this fence, and then we’ll ride about and take all the locks off.” - -On the way home, an hour later, he asked Shannon not to say anything -about their discovery or his plan to watch for the mysterious pack -train the following Friday. - -“It would only excite the folks needlessly,” he explained. “The chances -are that there’ll be some simple explanation when I meet up with these -people. As I told Jake, they may be greasers who work all the week and -come up here at night for firewood. Still more likely, it’s people who -don’t know they can get permission to gather deadwood for the asking, -and think they are stealing it. Putting themselves to a lot of trouble -for nothing, I’ll say!” - -“You’ll not wait for them alone?” she asked, for she knew what he -did not--that they were probably unscrupulous rascals who would not -hesitate to commit any crime if they thought themselves in danger of -discovery. - -“Why not?” he asked. “I only want to ask them what they are doing on -Ganado, and why they cut our fence.” - -“Please don’t!” she begged. “You don’t know who they are or what they -have been doing. They might be very desperate men, for all we know.” - -“All right,” he agreed. “I’ll take Jake with me.” - -“Why don’t you get Guy to go along, too?” she suggested, for she knew -that he would be safer if Guy knew of his intention, since then there -would be little likelihood of his meeting the men. - -“No,” he replied. “Guy would have to have a big camp fire, an easy -chair, and a package of cigarettes if he was going to sit up that late -out in the hills. Jake’s the best for that sort of work.” - -“Guy isn’t a bit like you, is he?” she asked. “He’s lived right here -and led the same sort of life, and yet he doesn’t seem to be a part of -it, as you are.” - -“Guy’s a dreamer, and he likes to be comfortable all the time,” laughed -Custer. “They’re all that way a little. Mr. Evans was, so father says. -He died while we were all kids. Mrs. Evans likes to take it easy, too, -and even Grace wasn’t much on roughing it, though she could stand more -than the others. None of them seemed to take to it the way you do. I -never saw any one else but a Pennington such a glutton for a saddle -and the outdoors as you are. I don’t like ’em any the less for it,” he -hastened to add. “It’s just the way people are, I guess. The taste for -such things is inherited. The Evanses, up to this generation, all came -from the city; the Penningtons all from the country. Father thinks that -horsemen, if not the descendants of a distinct race, at least spring -from some common ancestors who inhabited great plains and were the -original stock raisers of the human race. He thinks they mingled with -the hill and mountain people, who also became horsemen through them; -but that the forest tribes and the maritime races were separate and -distinct. It was the last who built the cities, which the horsemen came -in from the plains and conquered.” - -“But perhaps Guy would like the adventure of it,” she insisted. “It -might give him material for a story. I’m going to ask him.” - -“Please don’t. The less said about it the better, for if it’s talked -about it may get to the men I want to catch. Word travels fast in the -country. Just as we don’t know who these men are or what they are -doing, neither do we know but what some of them may be on friendly -terms with our employees, or the Evanses, or yours.” - -The girl made no reply. - -“You won’t mention it to him, please?” Custer insisted. - -“Not if you don’t wish it,” she said. - -They were silent for a time, each absorbed in his or her own thoughts. -The girl was seeking to formulate some plan that would prevent a -meeting between Custer and Allen’s confederates, who she was sure -were the owners of the mysterious pack train; while the man indulged -in futile conjectures as to their identity and the purpose of their -nocturnal expeditions. - -“That trail above Jackknife Cañon is the key to the whole business,” he -declared presently. “I’ll just lay low until after next Friday night, -so as not to arouse their suspicions, and then, no matter what I find -out, I’ll ride that trail to its finish, if it takes me clear to the -ocean!” - -They had reached the fork in the road, one branch of which led down to -Shannon’s bungalow, the other to the Ganado saddle-horse stables. - -“I thought you were coming up to lunch,” said Custer, as Shannon reined -her horse into the west road. - -“Not to-day,” she said. “I’ll come to dinner, if I may, though.” - -“We all miss you when you’re not there,” he said. - -“How nice! Now I’ll surely come.” - -“And this afternoon--will you ride with me again?” - -“I’m going to be very busy this afternoon,” she replied. - -His face dropped, and then, almost immediately, he laughed. - -“I hadn’t realized how much of your time I have been demanding. Why, -you ride with me every day, and now when you want an afternoon off I -start moping. I’m afraid you’ve spoiled me; but you mustn’t let me be a -nuisance.” - -“I ride with you because I like to,” she replied. “I should miss our -rides terribly if anything should occur to prevent them.” - -“Let’s hope nothing will prevent them. I’m afraid I’d be lost without -you now, Shannon. You can never know what it has meant to me to have -you here. I was sort of going to pot after Grace left--blue and -discouraged and discontented; and I was drinking too much. I don’t -mind telling you, because I know you’ll understand--you seem to -understand everything. Having you to ride with and talk to pulled me -together. I owe you a lot, so don’t let me impose on your friendship -and your patience. Any time you want an afternoon off,” he concluded, -laughing, “don’t be afraid to ask for it--I’ll see that you get it with -full pay!” - -“I don’t _want_ any afternoons off, because I enjoy the rides as much -as you, and they have meant even more to me. I intend to see that -nothing prevents them, if I can.” - -She was touched and pleased with Custer’s sudden burst of confidence, -and thankful for whatever had betrayed him into one of those rare -revelations of his heart. She wanted to be necessary to him, in the -sweet and unemotional way of friendship, so that they might be together -without embarrassment or constraint. - -They had been standing at the fork, talking, and now, as she started -Baldy again in the direction of her own place, Custer reined the Apache -to accompany her. - -“You needn’t come down with me,” she said. “It’s nearly lunch time now, -and it would only make you late.” - -“But I want to.” - -“No!” She shook her head. “You go right home.” - -“Please!” - -“This is my afternoon off,” she reminded him, “and I’d really rather -you wouldn’t.” - -“All right! I’ll drive down in the car early, and we’ll have a swim -before dinner.” - -“Not too early--I’ll telephone you when I’m ready. Good-by!” - -He waved his hat as she cantered off, and then sat the Apache for a -moment, watching her. How well she rode! What grace and ease in every -motion of that supple body! He shook his head. - -“Some girl, Shannon!” he mused aloud as he wheeled the Apache and rode -toward the stables. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -Shannon Burke did not ride to her home after she left Custer. She -turned toward the west at the road above the Evans place, continued on -to the mouth of Horse Camp Cañon, and entered the hills. For two miles -she followed the cañon trail to El Camino Largo, and there, turning -to the left, she followed this other trail east to Sycamore Cañon. -Whatever her mission, it was evident that she did not wish it known -to others. Had she not wished to conceal it, she might have ridden -directly up Sycamore Cañon from Ganado with a saving of several miles. - -Crossing Sycamore, she climbed the low hills skirting its eastern -side. There was no trail here, and the brush was thick and oftentimes -so dense that she was forced to make numerous detours to find a way -upward; but at last she rode out upon the western rim of the basin -meadow above Jackknife. Thence she picked her way down to more level -ground, and, putting spurs to Baldy, galloped east, her eyes constantly -scanning the ground just ahead of her. - -Presently she found what she sought--a trail running north and south -across the basin. She turned Baldy into it, and headed him south toward -the mountains. She was nervous and inwardly terrified, and a dozen -times she would have turned back had she not been urged on by a power -infinitely more potent than self-interest. - -Personally, she had all to lose by the venture and naught to gain. The -element of physical danger she knew to be far from inconsiderable, -while it appalled her to contemplate the after effects, in the -not inconceivable contingency of the discovery of her act by the -Penningtons. Yet she urged Baldy steadily onward, though she felt her -flesh creep as the trail entered a narrow barranco at the southern -extremity of the meadow and wound upward through dense chaparral, which -shut off her range of vision in all directions for more than a few feet. - -At the upper end of the barranco the trail turned back and ascended a -steep hillside, running diagonally upward through heavy brush--without -which, she realized, the trail would have appeared an almost impossible -one, since it clung to a nearly perpendicular cliff. The brush lent a -suggestion of safety that was more apparent than real, and at the same -time it hid the sheer descent below. - -Baldy, digging his toes into the loose earth, scrambled upward, -stepping over gnarled roots and an occasional bowlder, and finding, -almost miraculously, the least precarious footing. There were times -when the girl shut her eyes tightly and sat with tensed muscles, her -knees pressing her horse’s sides until her muscles ached. At last the -doughty Morgan topped the summit of the hogback, and Shannon drew a -deep breath of relief--which was alloyed, however, by the realization -that in returning she must ride down this frightful trail, which now, -as if by magic, disappeared. - -The hogback was water-washed and gravel-strewn, and as hard-baked -beneath the summer’s sun as a macadam road. To Shannon’s unaccustomed -eyes it gave no clew as to the direction of the trail. She rode up and -down in both directions until finally she discovered what appeared to -be a trail leading downward into another barranco upon the opposite -side of the ridge. The descent seemed less terrifying than that which -she had just negotiated, and as it was the only indication of a trail -that she could find, she determined to investigate it. - -Baldy, descending carefully, suddenly paused and with uppricked ears -emitted a shrill neigh. So sudden and so startling was the sound that -Shannon’s heart all but stood still, gripped by the cold fingers of -terror. And then from below came an answering neigh. - -She had found what she sought, but the fear that rode her all but sent -her panic-stricken in retreat. It was only the fact that she could not -turn Baldy upon that narrow trail that gave her sufficient pause to -gain mastery over the chaos of her nerves and drive them again into the -fold of reason. It required a supreme effort of will to urge her horse -onward again, down into that mysterious ravine, where she knew there -might lurk for her a thing more terrible than death. That she did it -bespoke the greatness of the love that inspired her courage. - -The ravine below her was both shallower and wider than that upon the -opposite side of the ridge, so that it presented the appearance of a -tiny basin. From her vantage point she looked out across the tops of -spreading oaks to the brush-covered hillside that bounded the basin on -the south; but what lay below, what the greenery of the trees concealed -from her sight, she could only surmise. - -She knew that the Penningtons kept no horses here, so she guessed that -the animal that had answered Baldy’s neigh belonged to the men she -sought. Slowly she rode downward. What would her reception be? If her -conclusions as to the identity of the men camped below were correct, -she could imagine them shooting first and investigating later. The idea -was not a pleasant one, but nothing could deter her now. - -After what seemed a long time she rode out among splendid old oaks, -in view of a soiled tent and a picket line where three horses and a -half dozen burros were tethered. Nowhere was there sign of the actual -presence of men, yet she had an uncanny feeling that they were there, -and that from some place of concealment they were watching her. - -She sat quietly upon her horse for a moment, waiting. Then, no one -appearing, she called aloud. - -“Hello, there! I want to speak with you.” - -Her voice sounded strange and uncanny in her ears. - -For what seemed a long time there was no other sound than the gently -moving leaves about her, the birds, and the heavy breathing of Baldy. -Then, from the brush behind her, came another voice. It came from the -direction of the trail down which she had ridden. She realized that she -must have passed within a few feet of the man who now spoke. - -“What do you want?” - -“I have come to warn you. You are being watched.” - -“You mean you are not alone? There are others with you? Then tell them -to go away, for we have our rifles. We have done nothing. We’re tending -our bees--they’re just below the ridge above our camp.” - -“There is no one with me. I do not mean that others are watching you -now, but that others know that you come down out of the hills with -something each Friday night, and they want to find out what it is you -bring.” - -There was a rustling in the brush behind her, and she turned to see -a man emerge, carrying a rifle ready in his hands. He was a Mexican, -swarthy and ill-favored, his face pitted by smallpox. - -Almost immediately two other men stepped from the brush at other points -about the camp. The three walked to where Shannon sat upon her mount. -All were armed, and all were Mexicans. - -“What do you know about what we bring out of the hills? Should we not -bring our honey out?” asked the pock-marked one. - -“I know what you bring out,” she said. “I am not going to expose you. I -am here to warn you.” - -“Why?” - -“I know Allen.” - -Immediately their attitude changed. - -“You have seen Allen? You bring a message from him?” - -“I have not seen him. I bring no message from him; but for reasons of -my own I have come to warn you not to bring down another load next -Friday night.” - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -The pock-marked Mexican stepped close to Shannon and took hold of her -bridle reins. - -“You think,” he said in broken English, “we are damn fool? If you do -not come from Allen, you come for no good to us. You tell us the truth, -damn quick, or you never go back to tell where you find us and bring -policemen here!” - -His tone was ugly and his manner threatening. - -There was no harm in telling these men the truth, though it was -doubtful whether they would believe her. She realized that she was in a -predicament from which it might not be easy to extricate herself. She -had told them that she was alone, and if they suspected her motives -they might easily do away with her. She knew how lightly the criminal -Mexican esteems life--especially the life of the hated gringo. - -“I have come to warn you because a friend of mine is going to watch for -you next Friday night. He does not know who you are, or what you bring -out of the hills. I do, and so I know that rather than be caught you -might kill him, and I do not want him killed. That is all.” - -“How do you know what we bring out of the hills?” - -“Allen told me.” - -“Allen told you? I do not believe you. Do you know where Allen is?” - -“He is in jail in Los Angeles. I heard him telling a man in Los Angeles -last July.” - -“Who is the friend of yours that is going to watch for us?” - -“Mr. Pennington.” - -“You have told him about us?” - -“I have told you that he knows nothing about you. All he knows is that -some one comes down with burros from the hills, and that they cut his -fence last Friday night. He wants to catch you and find out what you -are doing.” - -“Why have you not told him?” - -She hesitated. - -“That can make no difference,” she said presently. - -“It makes a difference to us. I told you to tell the truth, or----” - -The Mexican raised his rifle that she might guess the rest. - -“I did not want to have to explain how I knew about you. I did not want -Mr. Pennington to know that I knew such men as Allen.” - -“How did you know Allen?” - -“That has nothing to do with it at all. I have warned you so that you -can take steps to avoid discovery and capture. I shall tell no one else -about you. Now let me go.” - -She gathered Baldy and tried to rein him about, but the man clung to -her bridle. - -“Not so much of a hurry, _señorita_! Unless I know how Allen told you -so much, I cannot believe that he told you anything. The police have -many ways of learning things--sometimes they use women. If you are a -friend to Allen, all right. It you are not, you know too damn much for -to be very good for your health. You had better tell me all the truth, -or you shall not ride away from here--ever!” - -“Very well,” she said. “I met Allen in a house in Hollywood where he -sold his ‘snow,’ and I heard him telling the man there how you disposed -of the whisky that was stolen in New York, brought here to the coast in -a ship, and hidden in the mountains.” - -“What is the name of the man in whose house you met Allen?” - -“Crumb.” - -The man raised his heavy brows. - -“How long since you been there--in that house in Hollywood?” - -“Not since the last of July. I left the house the same time Allen did.” - -“You know how Allen he get in jail?” the Mexican asked. - -The girl saw that a new suspicion had been aroused in the man, and she -judged that the safer plan was to be perfectly frank. - -“I do not know, for I have seen neither Crumb nor Allen since; but when -I read in the paper that he had been arrested that night, I guessed -that Crumb had done it. I heard Crumb ask him to deliver some snow to -a man in Hollywood. I know that Crumb is a bad man, and that he was -trying to steal your share of the money from Allen.” - -The man thought in silence for several minutes, the lines of his heavy -face evidencing the travail with which some new idea was being born. -Presently he looked up, the light of cunning gleaming in his evil eyes. - -“You go now,” he said. “I know you! Allen tell me about you a long -time ago. You Crumb’s woman, and your name is Gaza. You will not tell -anything about us to your rich friends the Penningtons--you bet you -won’t!” - -The Mexican laughed loudly, winking at his companions. - -Shannon could feel the burning flush that suffused her face. She -closed her eyes in what was almost physical pain, so terrible did the -humiliation torture her pride, and then came the nausea of disgust. The -man had dropped her reins, and she wheeled Baldy about. - -“You will not come Friday night?” she asked, wishing some assurance -that her sacrifice had not been entirely unavailing. - -“Mr. Pennington will not find us Friday night, and so he will not be -shot.” - -She rode away then; but there was a vague suspicion lurking in her mind -that there had been a double meaning in the man’s final words. - -Custer Pennington, occupied in the office for a couple of hours after -lunch, had just come from the house, and was standing on the brow of -the hill looking out over the ranch toward the mountains. His gaze, -wandering idly at first, was suddenly riveted upon a tiny speck moving -downward from the mouth of a distant ravine--a moving speck which he -recognized, even at that distance, to be a horseman, where no horseman -should have been. For a moment he watched it, and then, returning to -the house, he brought out a pair of binoculars. - -Now the speck had disappeared; but he knew that it was down in the -bottom of the basin, hidden by the ridge above Jackknife Cañon, and he -waited for the time when it would reappear on the crest. For five, ten, -fifteen minutes he watched the spot where the rider should come into -view once more. Then he saw a movement in the brush and leveled his -glasses upon the spot, following the half seen figure until it emerged -into a space clear of chaparral. Now they were clearly revealed by the -powerful lenses, the horse and its rider--Baldy and Shannon! - -Pennington dropped the glasses at his side, a puzzled expression on -his face, as he tried to find some explanation of the fact that the -binoculars had revealed. From time to time he caught glimpses of her -again as she rode down the cañon; but when, after a considerable time, -she did not emerge upon the road leading to the house, he guessed that -she had crossed over El Camino Corto. Why she should do this he could -not even conjecture. It was entirely out of her way, and a hilly trail, -while the other was a wagon road leading almost directly from Sycamore -to her house. - -Presently he walked around the house to the north side of the hill, -where he had a view of the valley spreading to the east and the west -and the north. Toward the west he could see the road that ran above -the Evanses’ house all the way to Horse Camp Cañon. - -He did not know why he stood there watching for Shannon. It was none -of his affair where she rode, or when. It seemed strange, though, that -she should have ridden alone into the hills after having refused to -ride with him. It surprised him, and troubled him, too, for it was the -first suggestion that Shannon could commit even the most trivial act of -underhandedness. - -After a while he saw her emerge from Horse Camp Cañon and follow the -road to her own place. Custer ran his fingers through his hair in -perplexity. He was troubled not only because Shannon had ridden without -him, after telling him that she could not ride that afternoon, but also -because of the direction in which she had ridden--the trail of which he -had told her that he thought it led to the solution of the mystery of -the nocturnal traffic. He had told her that he would not ride it before -Saturday, for fear of arousing the suspicions of the men he wished to -surprise in whatever activity they might be engaged upon; and within -a few hours she had ridden deliberately up into the mountains on that -very trail. - -The more Custer considered the matter, the more perplexed he became. At -last he gave it up in sheer disgust. Doubtless Shannon would tell him -all about it when he called for her later in the afternoon. He tried to -forget it; but the thing would not be forgotten. - -Several times he realized, with surprise, that he was hurt because she -had ridden without him. He tried to argue that he was not hurt, that it -made no difference to him, that she had a perfect right to ride with or -without him as she saw fit, and that he did not care a straw one way or -the other. - -No, it was not that that was troubling him--it was something else. -He didn’t know what it was, but a drink would straighten it out; so -he took a drink. He realized that it was the first he had had in a -week, and almost decided not to take it; but he changed his mind. -After that he took several more without bothering his conscience to -any appreciable extent. When his conscience showed signs of life, he -reasoned it back to innocuous desuetude by that unanswerable argument: - -“What’s the use?” - -By the time he left to call for Shannon he was miserably happy and -happily miserable; yet he showed no outward sign that he had been -drinking, unless it was that he swung the roadster around the curves of -the driveway leading down the hill a bit more rapidly than usual. - -Shannon was ready and waiting for him. She came out to the car with a -smile--a smile that hid a sad and frightened heart; and he greeted her -with another that equally belied his inward feelings. As they rode up -to the castle on the hill, he gave her every opportunity to mention and -explain her ride, principally by long silences, though never by any -outward indication that he thought she had aught to explain. If she did -not care to have him know about it, she should never know from him that -he already knew; but the canker of suspicion was already gnawing at -his heart, and he was realizing, perhaps for the first time, how very -desirable this new friendship had grown to be. - -Again and again he insisted to himself that what she had done made -no difference--that she must have had some excellent reason. Perhaps -she had just wanted to be alone. He often had experienced a similar -longing. Even when Grace had been there, he had occasionally wanted to -ride off into the hills with nothing but his own thoughts for company. - -Yet, argue as he would, the fact remained that it had made a -difference, and that he was considering Shannon now in a new light. -Just what the change meant he probably could not have satisfactorily -explained, had he tried; but he did not try. He knew that there was a -difference, and that his heart ached when it should not ache. It made -him angry with himself, with the result that he went to his room and -had another drink. - -Shannon, too, felt the difference. She thought that it was her own -guilty conscience, though why she should feel guilt for having risked -so much for his sake she did not know. Instinctively she was honest, -and so to deceive one whom she loved, even for a good purpose, troubled -her. - -Something else troubled her, too. She knew that Custer had been -drinking again, and she recalled what he had said to her, that morning, -of the help she had been to him in getting away from his habit. She -knew too well herself what it meant to fight for freedom from a settled -vice, and she had been glad to have been instrumental in aiding him. -She had had to fight her own battle alone; she did not want him to face -a similar ordeal. - -She wondered why he had been drinking that afternoon. Could it have -been because she had not been able to ride with him, and thus left -alone he had reverted to the old habit? The girl reproached herself, -even though she felt, after her interview with the Mexicans, that she -had undoubtedly saved Custer’s life. - -The Evanses, mother and son, were also at the Penningtons’ for dinner -that night. Shannon had noticed that it was with decreasing frequency -that Grace’s name was mentioned of late. She knew the reason. Letters -had become fewer and fewer from the absent girl. She had practically -ceased writing to Custer. Her letters to Mrs. Evans were no longer -read to the Penningtons, for there had crept into them a new and -unpleasant note that was as foreign as possible to the girl who had -gone away months before. They showed a certain carelessness and lack of -consideration that had pained them all. - -They always asked after the absent girl, but her present life and her -career were no longer discussed, since the subject brought nothing but -sorrow to them all. That she had been disappointed and disillusioned -seemed probable, since she had obtained only a few minor parts in -mediocre pictures; and now she no longer mentioned her ambition, and -scarcely ever wrote of her work. - -At dinner that night Eva was unusually quiet until the colonel, -noticing it, asked if she was ill. - -“There!” she cried. “You all make life miserable for me because I talk -too much, and then, when I give you a rest, you ask if I am ill. What -shall I do? If I talk, I pain you. If I fail to talk, I pain you; but -if you must know, I am too thrilled to talk just now--I am going to be -married!” - -“All alone?” inquired Custer. - -A sickly purplish hue, threatening crimson complications, crept from -beneath Guy’s collar and enveloped his entire head. He reached for his -water goblet and ran the handle of his fork up his sleeve. The ensuing -disentanglement added nothing to his equanimity, though it all but -overturned the goblet. Custer was eying him with a seraphic expression -that boded ill. - -“What’s the matter, Guy--measles?” he asked with a beatific smile. - -Guy grinned sheepishly, and was about to venture an explanation when -Eva interrupted him. The others at the table were watching the two with -amused smiles. - -“You see, momsy,” said Eva, addressing her mother, “Guy has sold a -story. He got a thousand dollars for it--a thousand!” - -“Oh, not a thousand!” expostulated Guy. - -“Well, it was nearly a thousand--if it had been three hundred dollars -more it would have been--and so now that our future is assured we are -going to be married. I hadn’t intended to mention it until Guy had -talked with popsy, but this will be very much nicer, and easier for -Guy.” - -Guy looked up appealingly at the colonel. - -“You see, sir, I was summing to key you--I mean I was----” - -“You see what it is going to mean to have an author in the family,” -said Custer. “He’s going to talk away above our heads. We won’t know -what he’s talking about half the time. I don’t know. Do you, Guy?” - -“For pity’s sake, Custer, leave the boy alone!” laughed Mrs. -Pennington. “You’re enough to rattle a stone image. And now, Guy, you -know you don’t have to feel embarrassed. We have all grown accustomed -to the idea that you and Eva would marry, so it is no surprise. It -makes us very happy.” - -“Thank you, Mrs. Pennington,” said the boy. “It wasn’t that it was hard -to tell you. It was the way Eva wanted me to do it--like a book. I was -supposed to come and ask the colonel for her hand in a very formal -manner, and it made me feel foolish, the more I thought of it--and I -have been thinking about it all day. So, you see, when Eva blurted it -out, I thought of my silly speech and I----” - -“It wasn’t a silly speech,” interrupted Eva. “It was simplimetic -gorgeristic. You thought so yourself when you made _Bruce Bellinghame_ -ask _Hortense’s_ father for her. ‘_Mr. Le Claire_,’ he said, squaring -his manly shoulders, ‘it is with emotions of deepest solemnity and -a full realization of my unworthiness that I approach you upon this -beautiful day in May----’” - -“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Eva, _please_!” begged Guy. - -They were all laughing now, including Eva and Guy. The tears were -rolling down Custer’s cheeks. - -“That editor was guilty of grand larceny when he offered you seven -hundred berries for the story. Why, the gem alone is easily worth a -thousand. Adieu, Mark Twain! Farewell, Bill Nye! You’ve got ’em all -nailed to the post, Guy Thackeray!” - -The colonel wiped his eyes. - -“I gather,” he said, “that you two children wish to get married. Do I -surmise correctly?” - -“Oh, popsy, you’re just wonderful!” exclaimed Eva. - -“Yes, how did you guess it, father?” asked Custer. “Marvelous deductive -faculties for an old gentleman, I’ll say!” - -“That will be about all from you, Custer,” admonished the colonel. - -“Any time that I let a chance like this slip!” returned young -Pennington. “Do you think I have forgotten how those two imps pestered -the life out of Grace and me a few short years ago? Nay, nay!” - -“I don’t blame Custer a bit,” said Mrs. Evans. “Guy and Eva certainly -did make life miserable for him and Grace.” - -“That part of it is all right--it is Guy’s affair and Eva’s; but did -you hear him refer to me as an old gentleman?” - -They all laughed. - -“But you _are_ a gentleman,” insisted Custer. - -The colonel, his eyes twinkling, turned to Mrs. Evans. - -“Times have changed, Mae, since we were children. Imagine speaking thus -to our fathers!” - -“I’m glad they have changed, Custer. It’s terrible to see children -afraid of their parents. It has driven so many of them away from home.” - -“No danger of that here,” said the colonel. - -“It is more likely to be the other way around,” suggested Mrs. -Pennington. “In the future we may hear of parents leaving home because -of the exacting tyranny of their children.” - -“My children shall be brought up properly,” announced Eva, “with proper -respect for their elders.” - -“Guided by the shining example of their mother,” said Custer. - -“And their Uncle Cutie,” she retorted. - -“Come, now,” interrupted the colonel, “let’s hear something about your -plans. When are you going to be married?” - -“Yes,” offered Custer. “Now that the seven hundred dollars has assured -their future, there is no reason why they shouldn’t be married at once -and take a suite at the Ambassador. I understand they’re as low as -thirty-five hundred a month.” - -“Aw, I have more than the seven hundred,” said Guy. “I’ve been saving -up for a long time. We’ll have plenty to start with.” - -Shannon noticed that he flushed just a little as he made the statement, -and she alone knew why he flushed. It was too bad that Custer’s little -sister should start her married life on money of that sort! - -Shannon felt that at heart Guy was a good boy--that he must have been -led into this traffic originally without any adequate realization of -its criminality. Her own misfortune had made her generously ready to -seek excuses for wrong-doing in others; but she dreaded to think what -it was going to mean to Eva and the other Penningtons if ever the truth -became known. From her knowledge of the sort of men with whom Guy was -involved, she was inclined to believe that the menace of exposure or -blackmail would hang over him for many years, even if the former did -not materialize in the near future; for she was confident that if his -confederates were discovered by the authorities, they would immediately -involve him, and would try to put the full burden of responsibility -upon his shoulders. - -“I don’t want the financial end of matrimony to worry either of you,” -the colonel was saying. “Guy has chosen a profession in which it may -require years of effort to produce substantial returns. All I shall ask -of my daughter’s husband is that he shall honestly apply himself to his -work. If you do your best, Guy, you will succeed, and in the meantime -I’ll take care of the finances.” - -“But we don’t want it that way,” said Eva. “We don’t want to live on -charity.” - -“Do you think that what I give to my little girl would be given in a -spirit of charity?” the colonel asked. - -“Oh, popsy, I know you wouldn’t feel that it was; but can’t you see how -Guy would feel? I want him to be independent. I’d rather get along with -a little, and feel that he had earned it all.” - -“It may take a long time, Eva,” said Custer; “and in the meantime the -best part of your lives would be spent in worry and scrimping. I know -how you feel; but there’s a way around it that has the backing of -established business methods. Let father finance Guy’s writing ability, -just as inventive genius is sometimes financed. When Guy succeeds, he -can pay back with interest.” - -“What a dapper little thought!” exclaimed the girl. “That would fix -everything, wouldn’t it? You radiant man!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -On the following Monday a pock-marked Mexican appeared at the county -jail in Los Angeles, during visitors’ hours, and asked to be permitted -to see Slick Allen. The two stood in a corner and conversed in -whispers. Allen’s face wore an ugly scowl when his visitor told him of -young Pennington’s interference with their plans. - -“It’s getting too hot for us around there,” said Allen. “We got to -move. How much junk you got left?” - -“About sixty cases of booze. We got rid of nearly three hundred cases -on the coast side, without sending ’em through Evans. There isn’t much -of the other junk left--a couple pounds altogether, at the outside.” - -“We got to lose the last of the booze,” said Allen; “but we’ll get our -money’s worth out of it. Now you listen, and listen careful, Bartolo.” - -He proceeded very carefully and explicitly to explain the details of -a plan which brought a grin of sinister amusement to the face of the -Mexican. It was not an entirely new plan, but rather an elaboration and -improvement of one that Allen had conceived some time before in the -event of a contingency similar to that which had now arisen. - -“And what about the girl?” asked Bartolo. “She should pay well to keep -the Penningtons from knowing.” - -“Leave her to me,” replied Allen. “I shall not be in jail forever.” - -During the ensuing days of that late September week, when Shannon and -Custer rode together, there was a certain constraint in their relations -that was new and depressing. The girl was apprehensive of the outcome -of his adventure on the rapidly approaching Friday, while he could not -rid himself of the haunting memory of her solitary and clandestine ride -over the mysterious trail that led into the mountains. - -It troubled him that she should have kept the thing a secret, and it -troubled him that he should care. What difference could it make to him -where Shannon Burke rode? He asked himself that question a hundred -times; but though he always answered that it could make no difference, -he knew perfectly well that it _had_ made a difference. - -He often found himself studying her face, as if he would find there -either an answer to his question, or a refutation of the suspicion of -trickery and deceit which had arisen in his mind and would not down. -What a beautiful face it was--not despite its irregular features, but -because of them, and because of the character and individuality they -imparted to her appearance. Custer could not look upon that face and -doubt her. - -Several times she caught him in the act of scrutinizing her thus, -and she wondered at it, for in the past he had never appeared to be -consciously studying her. She was aware, too, that he was troubled -about something. She wished that she might ask him--that she might -invite his confidence, for she knew the pain of unshared sorrows; but -he gave her no opening. So they rode together, often in silence; and -though their stirrups touched many a time, yet constantly they rode -farther and farther apart, just because chance had brought Custer -Pennington from the office that Saturday afternoon to look out over the -southern hills at the moment when Shannon had ridden down the trail -into the meadow above Jackknife Cañon. - -At last Friday came. Neither had reverted, since the previous Saturday, -to the subject that was uppermost in the mind of each; but now Shannon -could not refrain from seeking once more to deter Custer from his -project. She had not been able to forget the sinister smile of the -Mexican, or to rid her mind of an intuitive conviction that the man’s -final statement had concealed a hidden threat. - -They were parting at the fork of the road--she had hesitated until the -last moment. - -“You still intend to try to catch those men to-night?” she asked. - -“Yes--why?” - -“I had hoped you would give it up. I am afraid something may happen. -I--oh, please don’t go, Custer!” She wished that she might add: “For my -sake.” - -He laughed shortly. - -“I guess there won’t be any trouble. If there is, I can take care of -myself.” - -She saw that it was useless to insist further. - -“Let me know if everything is all right,” she asked. “Light the light -in the big cupola on the house when you get back--I can see it from -my bedroom window--and then I shall know that nothing has happened. I -shall be watching for it.” - -“All right,” Custer promised, and they parted. - -He wondered why she should be so perturbed about his plans for the -night. There was something peculiar about that--something that he -couldn’t understand or explain, except in accordance with a single -hypothesis--a hypothesis which he scorned to consider, yet which rode -his thoughts like a veritable _Little Old Man of the Sea_. Had he known -the truth, it would all have been quite understandable; but how was he -to know that Shannon Burke loved him? - -When he reached the house, the ranch bookkeeper came to tell him that -the Los Angeles operator had been trying to get him all afternoon. - -“Somebody in L. A. wants to talk to you on important business,” said -the bookkeeper. “You’re to call back the minute you get here.” - -Five minutes later he had his connection. An unfamiliar voice asked if -he were the younger Mr. Pennington. - -“I am,” he replied. - -“Some one cut your fence last Friday. You like to know who he is?” - -“What about it? Who are you?” - -“Never mind who I am. I was with them. They double-crossed me. You want -to catch ’em?” - -“I want to know who they are, and why they cut my fence, and what the -devil they’re up to back there in the hills.” - -“You listen to me. You _sabe_ Jackknife Cañon?” - -“Yes.” - -“To-night they bring down the load just before dark. They do that -every Friday, and hide the burros until very late. Then they come down -into the valley while every one is asleep. To-night they hide ’em in -Jackknife. They tie ’em there an’ go away. About ten o’clock they come -back. You be there nine o’clock, and you catch ’em when they come back. -_Sabe?_” - -“How many of ’em are there?” - -“Only two. You don’t have to be afraid--they don’t pack no guns. You -take gun an’ you catch ’em all alone.” - -“But how do I know that you’re not stringing me?” - -“You listen. They double-cross me. I get even. You no want to catch -’em, I no care--that’s all. Good-by!” - -Custer turned away from the phone, running his fingers through his hair -in a characteristic gesture signifying perplexity. What should he do? -The message sounded rather fishy, he thought; but it would do no harm -to have a look into Jackknife Cañon around nine o’clock. If he was -being tricked, the worst he could fear was that they had taken this -method of luring him to Jackknife while they brought the loaded burros -down from the hills by some other route. If they had done that, it was -very clever of them; but he would not be fooled a second time. - -Custer Pennington didn’t care to be laughed at, and so, if he was -going to be hoaxed that night, he had no intention of having a witness -to his idiocy. For that reason he did not take Jake with him, but -rode alone up Sycamore when all the inmates of the castle on the hill -thought him in bed and asleep. It was a clear night. Objects were -plainly discernible at short distances, and when he passed the horse -pasture he saw the dim bulks of the brood mares a hundred yards away. A -coyote voiced its uncanny cry from a near hill. An owl hooted dismally -from a distance; but these sounds, rather than depressing him, had the -opposite effect, for they were of the voices of the nights that he had -known and loved since childhood. - -When he turned into Jackknife, he reined the Apache in and sat for a -moment listening. From farther up the cañon, out of sight, there came -the shadow of a sound. That would be the tethered burros, he thought, -if the whole thing was not a trick; but he was certain that he heard -the sound of something moving there. - -He rode on again, but he took the precaution of loosening his gun in -its holster. There was, of course, the bare possibility of a sinister -motive behind the message he had received. As he thought of it now, it -occurred to him that his informant was perhaps a trifle too insistent -in assuring him that it was safe to come up here alone. Well, the man -had put it over cleverly, if that had been his intent. - -Now Custer saw a dark mass beneath a sycamore. He rode directly toward -it, and in another moment he saw that it represented half a dozen laden -burros tethered to the tree. He moved the Apache close in to examine -them. There was no sign of men about. - -He examined the packs, leaning over and feeling one. What they -contained he could not guess; but it was not firewood. They evidently -consisted of six wooden boxes to each burro, three on a side. - -He reined the Apache in behind the burros in the darkness of the tree’s -shade, and there he waited for the coming of the men. He did not like -the look of things at all. What could those boxes contain? There was -no legitimate traffic through or out of those hills that could explain -the weekly trip of this little pack train; and if the men in charge -of it were employed in any illegitimate traffic, they would not be -surrendering to a lone man as meekly as his informant had suggested. -The days of smuggling through the hills from the ocean was over--or at -least Custer had thought it was over; but this thing commenced to look -like a recrudescence of the old-time commerce. - -As he sat there waiting, he had ample time to think. He speculated upon -the identity and purpose of the mysterious informant who had called -him up from Los Angeles. He speculated again upon the contents of the -packs. He recalled the whisky that Guy had sold him from time to time, -and wondered if the packs might not contain liquor. He had gathered -from Guy that his supply came from Los Angeles, and he had never -given the matter a second thought; but now he recalled the fact, and -concluded that if this was whisky, it was not from the same source as -Guy’s. - -All the time he kept thinking of Shannon and her mysterious excursion -into the hills. He recalled her anxiety to prevent him from coming up -here to-night, and he tried to find reasonable explanations for it. Of -course, it was the obvious explanation that did not occur to him; but -several did occur that he tried to put from his mind. - -Then from the mouth of Jackknife he heard the sound of horses’ hoofs. -The Apache pricked up his ears, and Custer leaned forward and laid a -hand upon his nostrils. - -“Quiet, boy!” he admonished, in a low whisper. - -The sounds approached slowly, halting occasionally. Presently two -horsemen rode directly past him on the far side of the cañon. They -rode at a brisk trot. Apparently they did not see the pack train, or, -if they saw it, they paid no attention to it. They disappeared in the -darkness, and the sound of their horses’ hoofs ceased. Pennington knew -that they had halted. Who could they be? Certainly not the drivers of -the pack train, else they would have stopped with the burros. - -He listened intently. Presently he heard horses walking slowly -toward him from up the cañon. The two who had passed were coming -back--stealthily. - -“I sure have got myself in a pretty trap!” he soliloquized a moment -later, when he heard the movement of mounted men in the cañon below him. - -He drew his gun and sat waiting. It was not long that he had to wait. A -voice coming from a short distance down the cañon addressed him. - -“Ride out into the open and hold up your hands!” it said. “We got you -surrounded and covered. If you make a break, we’ll bore you. Come on, -now, step lively--and keep your hands up!” - -It was the voice of an American. - -“Who in thunder are you?” demanded Pennington. - -“I am a United States marshal,” was the quick reply. - -Pennington laughed. There was something convincing in the very tone -of the man’s voice--possibly because Custer had been expecting to -meet Mexicans. Here was a hoax indeed; but evidently as much on the -newcomers as on himself. They had expected to find a lawbreaker. They -would doubtless be angry when they discovered that they had been duped. - -Custer rode slowly out from beneath the tree. - -“Hold up your hands, Mr. Pennington!” snapped the marshal. - -Custer Pennington was nonplused. They knew who he was, and yet they -demanded that he should hold up his hands like a common criminal. - -“Hold on there!” he cried. “What’s the joke? If you know who I am, what -do you want me to hold up my hands for? How do I know you’re a marshal?” - -“You don’t know it; but I know that you’re armed, and that you’re in a -mighty bad hole. I don’t know what you might do, and I ain’t taking no -chances. So stick ’em up, and do it quick. If anybody’s going to get -bored around here it’ll be you, and not none of my men!” - -“You’re a damned fool,” said Pennington succinctly; but he held his -hands before his shoulders, as he had been directed. - -Five men rode from the shadows and surrounded him. One of them -dismounted and disarmed him. He lowered his hands and looked about at -them. - -“Would you mind,” he said, “showing me your authority for this, and -telling me what in hell it’s all about?” - -One of the men threw back his coat, revealing a silver shield. - -“That’s my authority,” he said; “that, and the goods we got on you.” - -“What goods?” - -“Well, we expect to get ’em when we examine those packs.” - -“Look here!” said Custer. “You’re all wrong. I have nothing to do with -that pack train or what it’s packing. I came up here to catch the -fellows who have been bringing it down through Ganado every Friday -night, and who cut our fence last week. I don’t know any more about -what’s in those packs than you do--evidently not as much.” - -“That’s all right, Mr. Pennington. You’ll probably get a chance to tell -all that to a jury. We been laying for you since last spring. We didn’t -know it was you until one of your gang squealed; but we knew that this -stuff was somewhere in the hills above L. A., and we aimed to get it -and you sooner or later.” - -“Me?” - -“Well, not you particularly, but whoever was bootlegging it. To tell -you the truth, I’m plumb surprised to find who it is. I thought -all along it was some gang of cheap greasers; but it don’t make no -difference who it is to your Uncle Sam.” - -“You say some one told you it was I?” asked Custer. - -“Sure! How else would we know it? It don’t pay to double-cross your -pals, Mr. Pennington.” - -“What are you going to do with me?” he asked. - -“We’re going to take you back to L. A. and get you held to the Federal -grand jury.” - -“To-night?” - -“We’re going to take you back to-night.” - -“Can I stop at the house first?” - -“No. We got a warrant to search the place, and we’re going to leave a -couple of my men here to do it the first thing in the morning. I got -an idea you ain’t the only one around there that knows something about -this business.” - -As they talked, one of the deputies had taken a case from a pack and -opened it. - -“Look here!” he called. “It’s it, all right!” - -“It’s what?” asked Custer. - -“Oh, pe-ru-na, of course!” replied the deputy facetiously. “What did -you think it was? I hope you never thought it none of that hootch -stolen from a government bonded warehouse in New York!” - -The others laughed at his joke. - -“It’s too bad,” said the marshal, not at all unkindly, “for a decent -young fellow like you to get mixed up in a nasty business like this.” - -“I agree with you,” said Pennington. - -His mind traveled like lightning, flashing a picture of Shannon Burke -riding out of the hills and across the meadow above Jackknife Cañon; -of her inquiry that very afternoon as to whether he was coming up -here to-night. Had she really wished to dissuade him, or had she only -desired to make sure of his intentions? The light would not shine from -the big cupola to-night. What message would the darkness carry to -Shannon Burke? - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -They took Custer down to the village of Ganado, where they had left -their cars and obtained horses. Here they left the animals, including -the Apache, with instructions that he should be returned to the Rancho -del Ganado in the morning. - -The inhabitants of the village, almost to a man, had grown up in -neighborly friendship with the Penningtons. When he from whom the -officers had obtained their mounts discovered the identity of the -prisoner, his surprise was exceeded only by his anger. - -“If I’d known who you was after,” he said, “you’d never have got no -horses from me. I’d ’a’ hamstrung ’em first! I’ve known Cus Pennington -since he was knee high to a grasshopper, and whatever you took him for -he never done it. Wait till the colonel hears of this. You won’t have -no more job than a jack rabbit!” - -The marshal turned threateningly toward the speaker. - -“Shut up!” he advised. “If Colonel Pennington hears of this before -morning, you’ll wish to God you was a jack rabbit, and could get out of -the country in two jumps! Now you get what I’m telling you--you’re to -keep your trap closed until morning. Hear me?” - -“I ain’t deaf, but sometimes I’m a leetle mite dumb.” The last he added -in a low aside to Pennington, accompanying it with a wink; and aloud: -“I’m mighty sorry, Cus--_mighty_ sorry. If I’d only knowed it was you! -By gosh, I’ll never get over this--furnishin’ horses to help arrest a -friend, and a Pennington!” - -“Don’t worry about that for a minute, Jim. I haven’t done anything. -It’s just a big mistake.” - -The officers and their prisoner were in the car ready to start. The -marshal pointed a finger at Jim. - -“Don’t forget what I told you about keeping your mouth shut until -morning,” he admonished. - -They drove off toward Los Angeles. Jim watched them for a moment, as -the red tail light diminished in the distance. Then he turned into the -office of his feed barn and took the telephone receiver from its hook. -“Gimme Ganado No. 1,” he said to the sleepy night operator. - -It was five minutes before continuous ringing brought the colonel to -the extension telephone in his bedroom. He seemed unable to comprehend -the meaning of what Jim was trying to tell him, so sure was he that -Custer was in bed and asleep in a near-by room; but at last he was -half convinced, for he had known Jim for many years, and well knew his -stability and his friendship. - -“If it was anybody but you, Jim, I’d say you were a damned liar,” he -commented in characteristic manner; “but what in hell did they take the -boy for?” - -“They wouldn’t say. Just as I told ’em. I don’t know what he done, but -I know he never done it.” - -“You’re right, Jim--my boy couldn’t do a crooked thing!” - -“I’m just like you, colonel--I know there ain’t a crooked hair in Cus -Pennington’s head. If there’s anything I can do, colonel, you jest let -me know.” - -“You’ll bring the Apache up in the morning? Thank you again, Jim, and -good-by.” - -He hung up the receiver. While he dressed hastily, he explained to his -wife the purport of the message he had just received. - -“What are you going to do, Custer?” she asked. - -“I’m going to Los Angeles, Julia. Unless that marshal’s driving a -racing car, I’ll be waiting for him when he gets there!” - -Shortly before breakfast the following morning two officers, armed with -a warrant, searched the castle on the hill. In Custer Pennington’s -closet they found something which seemed to fill them with elation--two -full bottles of whisky and an empty bottle, each bearing a label -identical with those on the bottles they had found in the cases borne -by the burros. With this evidence and the laden pack train, they -started off toward the village. - -Shannon Burke had put in an almost sleepless night. For hours she -had lain watching the black silhouette of the big cupola against the -clear sky, waiting for the light which would announce that Custer had -returned home in safety; but no light had shone to relieve her anxiety. -She had strained her ears through the long hours of the night for the -sound of shooting from the hills; but only the howling of coyotes -and the hooting of owls had disturbed the long silence. She sought -to assure herself that all was well--that Custer had returned and -forgotten to switch on the cupola light--that he had not forgotten, but -that the bulb was burned out. She manufactured probable and improbable -explanations by the score; but always a disturbing premonition of evil -dispersed the cohorts of hope. - -She was up early in the morning, and in the saddle at the first streak -of dawn, riding directly to the stables of the Rancho del Ganado. The -stableman was there, saddling the horses while they fed. - -“No one has come down yet?” she asked. - -“The Apache’s gone,” he replied. “I don’t understand it. He hasn’t been -in his box all night. I was just thinkin’ of goin’ up to the house to -see if Custer was there. Don’t seem likely he’d be ridin’ all night, -does it?” - -“No,” she said. Her heart was in her mouth. She could scarcely speak. -“I’ll ride up for you,” she managed to say. - -Wheeling Baldy, she put him up the steep hill to the house. The iron -gate that closed the patio arch at night was still down, so she rode -around to the north side of the house and _coo-hooed_ to attract the -attention of some one within. Mrs. Pennington, followed by Eva, came to -the door. Both were fully dressed. When they saw who it was, they came -out and told Shannon what had happened. - -He was not injured, then. The sudden sense of relief left her -weak, and for a moment she did not consider the other danger that -confronted him. He was safe! That was all she cared about just then. -Later she commenced to realize the gravity of his situation, and the -innocent part that she had taken in involving him in the toils of the -scheme which her interference must have suggested to those actually -responsible for the traffic in stolen liquor, the guilt of which -they had now cleverly shifted to the shoulders of an innocent man. -Intuitively she guessed Slick Allen’s part in the unhappy contretemps -of the previous night; for she knew of the threats he had made against -Custer Pennington, and of his complicity in the criminal operations of -the bootleggers. - -How much she knew! More than any other, she knew all the details of -the whole tragic affair. She alone could untangle the knotted web, -and yet she dared not until there was no other way. She dared not let -them guess that she knew more of the matter than they. She could not -admit such knowledge without revealing the source of it and exposing -herself to the merited contempt of these people whose high regard had -become her obsession, whose friendship was her sole happiness, and the -love she had conceived for one of them the secret altar at which she -worshiped. - -In the last extremity, if there was no alternative, she would sacrifice -everything for him. To that her love committed her; but she would wait -until there was no other way. She had suffered so grievously through no -fault of her own that she clung with desperation to the brief happiness -which had come into her life, and which was now threatened, once again -because of no wrong-doing on her part. - -Fate had been consistently unkind to her. Was it fair that she should -suffer always for the wickedness of another? She had at least the right -to hope and wait. - -But there was something that she could do. When she turned Baldy down -the hill from the Penningtons’, she took the road home that led past -the Evanses’ ranch, and, turning in, dismounted and tied Baldy at the -fence. Her knock was answered by Mrs. Evans. - -“Is Guy here?” asked Shannon. - -Hearing her voice, Guy came from his room, drawing on his coat. - -“You’re getting as bad as the Penningtons,” he said, laughing. “They -have no respect for Christian hours!” - -“Something has happened,” she said, “that I thought you should know -about. Custer was arrested last night by government officers and taken -to Los Angeles. He was out on the Apache at the time. No one seems to -know where he was arrested, or why; but the supposition is that they -found him in the hills, for the man who runs the feed barn in the -village--Jim--told the colonel that the officers got horses from him -and rode up toward the ranch, and that it was a couple of hours later -that they brought Custer back on the Apache. The stableman just told me -that the Apache had not been in his stall all night, and I know--Custer -told me not to tell, but it will make no difference now--that he was -going up into the hills last night to try to catch the men who have -been bringing down loads on burros every Friday night for a long time, -and who cut his fence last Friday.” - -She looked straight into Guy’s eyes as she spoke; but he dropped his as -a flush mounted his cheek. - -“I thought,” she continued, “that Guy might want to go to Los Angeles -and see if he could help Custer in any way. The colonel went last -night.” - -“I’ll go now,” said Guy. “I guess I can help him.” - -His voice was suddenly weary, and he turned away with an air of -dejection which assured Shannon that he intended to do the only -honorable thing that he could do--assume the guilt that had been thrown -upon Custer’s shoulders, no matter what the consequences to himself. -She had had little doubt that Guy would do this, for she realized -his affection for Custer, as well as the impulsive generosity of his -nature, which, however marred by weakness, was still fine by instinct. - -Half an hour later, after a hasty breakfast, young Evans started for -Los Angeles, while his mother and Shannon, standing on the porch of -the bungalow, waved their good-bys as his roadster swung through the -gate into the county road. Mrs. Evans had only a vague idea as to what -her son could do to assist Custer Pennington out of his difficulty; -but Shannon Burke knew that Pennington’s fate lay in the hands of Guy -Evans, unless she chose to tell what she knew. - -Colonel Pennington had overtaken the marshal’s car before the -latter reached Los Angeles, but after a brief parley on the road -he had discovered that he could do nothing to alter the officer’s -determination to place Custer in the county jail pending his -preliminary hearing before a United States commissioner. Neither the -colonel’s plea that his son should be allowed to accompany him to a -hotel for the night, nor his assurance that he would be personally -responsible for the young man’s appearance before the commissioner on -the following morning, availed to move the obdurate marshal from his -stand; nor would he permit the colonel to talk with the prisoner. - -This was the last straw. Colonel Pennington had managed to dissemble -outward indications of his rising ire, but now an amused smile lighted -his son’s face as he realized that his father was upon the verge of an -explosion. He caught the older man’s eye and shook his head. - -“It’ll only make it worse,” he cautioned. - -The colonel directed a parting glare at the marshal, muttered something -about homeopathic intellects, and turned back to his roadster. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -During the long ride to Los Angeles, and later in his cell in the -county jail, Custer Pennington had devoted many hours to seeking an -explanation of the motives underlying the plan to involve him in -a crime of which he had no knowledge, nor even a suspicion of the -identity of its instigators. To his knowledge, he had no enemies whose -hostility was sufficiently active to lead them to do him so great a -wrong. He had had no trouble with any one recently, other than his -altercation with Slick Allen several months before; yet it was obvious -that he had been deliberately sacrificed for some ulterior purpose. -What that purpose was he could only surmise. - -The most logical explanation, he finally decided, was that those -actually responsible, realizing that discovery was imminent, had sought -to divert suspicion from themselves by fastening it upon another. -That they had selected him as the victim might easily be explained -on the ground that his embarrassing interest in their movements had -already centered their attention upon him, while it also offered -the opportunity for luring him into the trap without arousing his -suspicions. - -It was, then, just a combination of circumstances that had led him -into his present predicament; but there still remained unanswered one -question that affected his peace of mind more considerably than all -the others combined. Who had divulged to the thieves his plans for the -previous night? - -Concurrently with that question there arose before his mind’s eye a -picture of Shannon Burke and Baldy as they topped the summit above -Jackknife from the trail that led across the basin meadow back into the -hills, he knew not where. - -“I can’t believe that it was she,” he told himself for the hundredth -time. “She could not have done it. I won’t believe it! She could -explain it all if I could ask her; but I can’t ask her. There is a -great deal that I cannot understand, and the most inexplicable thing -is that she could possibly have had any connection whatever with the -affair.” - -When his father came with an attorney, in the morning, the son made no -mention of Shannon Burke’s ride into the hills, or of her anxiety, when -they parted in the afternoon, to learn if he was going to carry out his -plan for Friday night. - -“Did any one know of your intention to watch for these men?” asked the -attorney. - -“No one,” he replied; “but they might have become suspicious from the -fact that the week before I had all the gates padlocked on Friday. They -had to cut the fence that night to get through. They probably figured -that it was getting too hot for them, and that on the following Friday -I would take some other steps to discover them. Then they made sure of -it by sending me that message from Los Angeles. Gee, but I bit like a -sucker!” - -“It is unfortunate,” remarked the attorney, “that you had not discussed -your plans with some one before you undertook to carry them out on -Friday night. If we could thus definitely establish your motive for -going alone into the hills, and to the very spot where you were -discovered with the pack train, I think it would go much further toward -convincing the court that you were there without any criminal intent -than your own unsupported testimony to that effect!” - -“But haven’t you his word for it?” demanded the colonel. - -“I am not the court,” replied the attorney, smiling. - -“Well, if the court isn’t a damned fool it’ll know he wouldn’t have -padlocked the gates the week before to keep himself out,” stated the -colonel conclusively. - -“The government might easily assume that he did that purposely to -divert suspicion from himself. At least, it is no proof of innocence.” - -Colonel Pennington snorted. - -“The best thing to do now,” said the attorney, “is to see if we can get -an immediate hearing, and arrange for bail in case he is held to the -grand jury.” - -“I’ll go with you,” said the colonel. - -They had been gone but a short time when Guy Evans was admitted to -Custer’s cell. The latter looked up and smiled when he saw who his -visitor was. - -“It was bully of you to come,” he said. “Bringing condolences, or -looking for material, old thing?” - -“Don’t joke, Cus,” exclaimed Evans. “It’s too rotten to joke about, and -it’s all my fault.” - -“Your fault?” - -“I am the guilty one. I’ve come down to give myself up.” - -“Guilty! Give yourself up! What are you talking about?” - -“God, Cus, I hate to tell you. It didn’t seem such an awful thing to -do until this happened. Every one’s buying booze, or selling booze, or -making booze. Every one’s breaking the damned old Eighteenth Amendment, -and it’s got so it don’t seem like committing a crime, or anything like -that. You know, Cus, that I wouldn’t do anything criminal, and, oh, -God, what’ll Eva think?” - -Guy covered his face with his hands and choked back a sob. - -“Just what the devil are you talking about?” inquired Pennington. -“Do you mean to tell me that you have been mixed up in--well, what -do you know about that?” A sudden light had dawned upon Custer’s -understanding. “That hootch that you’ve been getting me--that I joked -you about--it was really the stuff that was stolen from a bonded -warehouse in New York? It wasn’t any joke at all?” - -“You can see for yourself now how much of a joke it was,” replied -Evans. - -“I’ll admit,” returned Custer ruefully, “that it does require -considerable of a sense of humor to see it in this joint!” - -“What do you suppose they’ll do to me?” asked Guy. “Do you suppose -they’ll send me to the penitentiary?” - -“Tell me the whole thing from the beginning--who got you into it, -and just what you’ve done. Don’t omit a thing, no matter how much it -incriminates you. I don’t need to tell you, old man, that I’m for you, -no matter what you’ve done.” - -“I know that, Cus; but I’m afraid no one can help me. I’m in for it. I -knew it was stolen from the start. I have been selling it since last -May--seven thousand seven hundred and seventy-six quarts of it--and -I made a dollar on every quart. It was what I was going to start -housekeeping on. Poor little Eva!” Again a sob half choked him. “It -was Slick Allen that started me. First he sold me some; then he got me -to sell you a bottle, and bring him the money. Then he had me, or at -least he made me think so; and he insisted on my handling it for them -out in the valley. It wasn’t hard to persuade me, for it looked safe, -and it didn’t seem like such a rotten thing to do, and I wanted the -money the worst way. I know they’re all bum excuses. I shan’t make any -excuses--I’ll take my medicine; but it’s when I think of Eva that it -hurts. It’s only Eva that counts!” - -“Yes,” said Pennington, laying his hand affectionately on the other’s -shoulder. “It is only Eva who counts; and because of Eva, and because -you and I love her so much, you cannot go to the penitentiary.” - -“What do you mean--cannot go?” - -“Have you told any one else what you have just told me?” - -“No.” - -“Don’t. Go back home, and keep your mouth shut,” said Custer. - -“You mean that you will take a chance of going up for what I did? -Nothing doing! Do you suppose I’d let you, Cus, the best friend I’ve -got in the world, go to the pen for me--for something I did?” - -“It’s not for you, Guy. I wouldn’t go to the pen for you or any other -man; but I’d go to the pen for Eva, and so would you.” - -“I know it, but I can’t let you do it. I’m not rotten, Cus!” - -“You and I don’t count. To see her unhappy and humiliated would be -worse for me than spending a few years in the penitentiary. I’m -innocent. No matter if I am convicted, I’ll know I’m innocent, and -Eva’ll know it, and so will all the rest at Ganado; but, Guy, they’ve -got too much on you if they ever suspect you, and the fact that you -voluntarily admitted your guilt would convince even my little sister. -If you were sent up it might ruin her life--it _would_ ruin it. Things -could never be the same for her again; but if I was sentenced for a few -years, it would only be the separation from a brother whom she knew to -be innocent, and in whom she still had undiminished confidence. She -wouldn’t be humiliated--her life wouldn’t be ruined; and when I came -back everything would be just as it was before. If you go, things will -not be the same when you come back--they can never be the same again. -You cannot go!” - -“I cannot let you go, and be punished for what I did, while I remain -free!” - -“You’ve got to--it’s the easiest way. We’ve all got to be punished for -what you did--those who love us are always punished for our sins; but -let me tell you that I don’t think you are going to escape punishment -if I go up for this. You’re going to suffer more than I. You’re going -to suffer more than you would if you went up yourself; but it can’t be -helped. The question is, are you man enough to do this for Eva? It is -your sacrifice more than mine.” - -Evans swallowed hard and tried to speak. It was a moment before he -succeeded. - -“My God, Cus, I’d rather go myself!” - -“I know you would.” - -“I can never have any self-respect again. I can never look a decent man -in the face. Every time I see Eva, or your mother, or the colonel, I’ll -think: ‘You dirty cur, you let their boy go to the pen for something -you did!’ Oh, Cus, please don’t ask me to do it! There must be some -other way. And--and, Cus, think of Grace. We’ve been forgetting Grace. -What’ll it mean to Grace if you are sent up?” - -“It won’t mean anything to Grace, and you know it. None of us mean much -to Grace any more.” - -Guy looked out of the little barred window, and tears came to his eyes. - -“I guess you’re right,” he said. - -“You’re going to do it, Guy--for Eva?” - -“For Eva--yes.” - -Pennington brightened up as if a great load had been lifted from his -shoulders. - -“Good!” he cried. “Now the chances are that I’ll not be sent up, for -they’ve nothing on me--they can’t have; but if I am, you’ve got to take -my place with the folks. You’ve had your lesson. I know you’ll never -pull another fool stunt like this again. And quit drinking, Guy. I -haven’t much excuse for preaching; but you’re the sort that can’t do -it. Leave it alone. Good-by, now; I’d rather you were not here when -father comes back--you might weaken.” - -Evans took the other’s hand. - -“I envy you, Cus--on the level, I do!” - -“I know it; but don’t feel too bad about it. It’s one of those things -that’s done, and it can’t be undone. Roosevelt would have called what -you’ve got to do ‘grasping the nettle.’ Grasp it like a man!” - -Evans walked slowly from the jail, entered his car, and drove away. Of -the two hearts his was the heavier; of the two burdens his the more -difficult to bear. - -Custer Pennington, appearing before a United States commissioner -that afternoon for his preliminary hearing, was held to the Federal -grand jury, and admitted to bail. The evidence brought by the deputies -who had searched the Pennington home, taken in connection with the -circumstances surrounding his arrest, seemed to leave the commissioner -no alternative. Even the colonel had to admit that to himself, though -he would never have admitted it to another. The case would probably -come up before the grand jury on the following Wednesday. - -The colonel wanted to employ detectives at once to ferret out those -actually responsible for the theft and bootlegging of the stolen -whisky; but Custer managed to persuade him not to do so, on the ground -that it would be a waste of time and money, since the government was -already engaged upon a similar pursuit. - -“Don’t worry, father,” he said. “They haven’t a shred of evidence -that I stole the whisky, or that I ever sold any. They found me with -it--that is all. I can’t be hanged for that. Let them do the worrying. -I want to get home in time to eat one of Hannah’s dinners. I’ll say -they don’t set much of a table in the sheriff’s boarding house!” - -“Where did you get the three bottles they found in your room?” - -“I bought them.” - -“I asked where, not how.” - -“I might get some one else mixed up in this if I were to answer that -question. I can’t do it.” - -“No,” said the colonel, “you can’t. When you buy whisky, nowadays, you -are usually compounding a felony. It’s certainly a rotten condition -to obtain in the land of the free; but you’ve got to protect your -accomplices. I shall not ask you again; but they’ll ask you in court, -my boy.” - -“All the good it’ll do them!” - -“I suppose so; but I’d hate to see my boy sent to the penitentiary.” - -“You’d hate to be in court and hear him divulge the name of a man who -had trusted him sufficiently to sell him whisky.” - -“I’d rather see you go to the penitentiary!” the colonel said. - -That night, at dinner, Custer made light of the charge against him, -yet at the same time he prepared them for what might happen, for -the proceedings before the commissioner had impressed him with the -gravity of his case, as had also the talk he had had with his attorney -afterward. - -“No matter what happens,” he said to them all, “I shall know that you -know I am not guilty.” - -“My boy’s word is all I need,” replied his mother. - -Eva came and put her arms about him. - -“They wouldn’t send you to jail, would they?” she demanded. “It would -break my heart!” - -“Not if you knew I was innocent.” - -“N-no, not then, I suppose; but it would be awful. If you were guilty, -it would kill me. I’d never want to live if my brother was convicted of -a crime, and was guilty of it. I’d kill myself first!” - -Her brother drew her face down and kissed her tenderly. - -“That would be foolish, dear,” he said. “No matter what one of us does, -such an act would make it all the worse--for those who were left.” - -“I can’t help it,” she said. “It isn’t just because I have had the -honor of the Penningtons preached to me all my life. It’s because it’s -in me--the Pennington honor. It’s a part of me, just as it’s a part of -you, and mother, and father. It’s a part of the price we have to pay -for being Penningtons. I have always been proud of it, Custer, even if -I am only a silly girl.” - -“I’m proud of it, too, and I haven’t jeopardized it; but even if I had, -you mustn’t think about killing yourself on my account, or any one’s -else.” - -“Well, I know you’re not guilty, so I don’t have to.” - -“Good! Let’s talk about something pleasant.” - -“Why didn’t you see Grace while you were in Los Angeles?” - -“I tried to. I called up her boarding place from the lawyer’s office. I -understood the woman who answered the phone to say that she would call -her, but she came back in a couple of minutes and said that Grace was -out on location.” - -“Did you leave your name?” - -“I told the woman who I was when she answered the phone.” - -“I’m sorry you didn’t see her,” said Mrs. Pennington. “I often think -that Mrs. Evans, or Guy, should run down to Los Angeles occasionally -and see Grace.” - -“That’s what Shannon says,” said Custer. “I’ll try to see her next -week, before I come home.” - -“Shannon was up nearly all afternoon waiting to hear if we received -any word from you. When you telephoned that you had been held to the -Federal grand jury, she would scarcely believe it. She said there must -be some mistake.” - -“Did she say anything else?” - -“She asked whether Guy got there before you were held and I told her -that you said Guy visited you in the jail. She seems so worried about -the affair--just as if she were one of the family. She is such a dear -girl! I think I grow to love her more and more every day.” - -“Yes,” said Custer, non-committally. - -“She asked me one rather peculiar question,” Eva went on. - -“What was that?” - -“She asked if I was _sure_ that it was _you_ who had been held to the -grand jury.” - -“That was odd, wasn’t it?” - -“She’s so sure of your innocence--just as sure as we are,” said Eva. - -“Well, that’s very nice of her,” remarked Custer. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -The next morning he saw Shannon, who came to ride with them, the -Penningtons, as had been her custom. She looked tired, as if she had -spent a sleepless night. She had--she had spent two sleepless nights, -and she had had to fight the old fight all over again. It had been very -hard, even though she had won, for it had shown her that the battle was -not over. She had thought that she had conquered the craving; but that -had been when she had had no troubles or unhappiness to worry her mind -and nerves. The last two days had been days of suffering for her, and -the two sleepless nights had induced a nervous condition that begged -for the quieting influence of the little white powder. - -Custer noticed immediately that something was amiss. The roses were -gone from her cheeks, leaving a suggestion of the old pallor; and -though she smiled and greeted him happily, he thought that he detected -an expression of wistfulness and pain in her face when she was not -conscious that others were observing her. - -There was a strange suggestion of change in their relations, which -Custer did not attempt to analyze. It was as if he had been gone a long -time, and, returning, had found Shannon changed through the natural -processes of time and separation. She was not the same girl--she could -never be the same again, nor could their relations ever be the same. - -The careless freedom of their association, which had resembled that of -a brother and sister more than any other relationship between a man and -a woman, had gone forever. What had replaced it Custer did not know. -Sometimes he thought that it was a suspicion of Shannon that clung to -his mind in spite of himself, but again and again he assured himself -that he held no suspicion of her. - -He wished, though, that she would explain that which was to him -inexplicable. He had the faith to believe that she could explain it -satisfactorily; but would she do so? She had had the opportunity, -before this thing had occurred, and had not taken advantage of it. He -would give her another opportunity that day, and he prayed that she -would avail herself of it. Why he should care so much, he did not try -to reason. He did not even realize how much he did care. - -Presently he turned toward her. - -“I am going to ride over to the east pasture after breakfast,” he said, -and waited. - -“Is that an invitation?” - -He smiled and nodded. - -“But not if it isn’t perfectly convenient,” he added. - -“I’d love to come with you. You know I always do.” - -“Fine! And you’ll breakfast with us?” - -“Not to-day. I have a couple of letters to write that I want to get off -right away; but I’ll be up between eight thirty and nine. Is that too -late?” - -“I’ll ride down after breakfast and wait for you--if I won’t be in the -way.” - -“Of course you won’t. It will take me only a few minutes to write my -letters.” - -“How are you going to mail them? This is Sunday.” - -“Mr. Powers is going to drive in to Los Angeles to-day. He’ll mail them -in the city.” - -“Who looks after things when Mr. and Mrs. Powers are away?” - -“Who looks after things? Why, I do.” - -“The chickens, and the sow, and Baldy--you take care of them all?” - -“Certainly, and I have more than that now.” - -“How’s that?” - -“Nine little pigs! They came yesterday. They’re perfect beauties.” - -The man laughed. - -“What are you laughing about?” she demanded. - -“The idea of you taking care of chickens and pigs and a horse!” - -“I don’t see anything funny about it, and it’s lot of fun. Did you -think I was too stupid?” - -“I was just thinking what a change two months have made. What would you -have done if you’d been left alone two months ago with a hundred hens, -a horse, and ten pigs to care for?” - -“The question then would have been what the hens, the horse, and the -pigs would have done; but now I know pretty well what to do. The two -letters I have to write are about the little pigs. I don’t know much -about them, and so I am writing to Berkeley and Washington for the -latest bulletins.” - -“Why don’t you ask _us_?” - -“Gracious, but I do! I am forever asking the colonel questions, and -the boys at the hog house must hate to see me coming. I’ve spent hours -in the office, reading Lovejoy and Colton; but I want something for -ready reference. I’ve an idea that I can raise lots more hogs than I -intended by fencing the orchard and growing alfalfa between the rows, -for pasture. There’s something solid and substantial about hogs that -suggests a bank balance even in the years when the orange crop may be -short or a failure, or the market poor.” - -“You’ve got the right idea,” said Custer. “There isn’t a rancher or an -orchardist, big or little, in the valley who couldn’t make more money -year in and year out if he’d keep a few brood sows.” - -“What’s Cus doing?” asked Eva, who had reined back beside them. -“Preaching hog raising again? That’s his idea of a dapper little way to -entertain a girl--hogs, Herefords and horses! Wouldn’t he make a hit in -society? Regular little tea pointer, I’ll say!” - -“I knew you were about to say something,” remarked her brother. “You’ve -been quiet for all of five minutes.” - -“I’ve been thinking,” said Eva. “I’ve been thinking how lonely it will -be when you have to go away to jail.” - -“Why, they can’t send me to jail--I haven’t done anything,” he tried to -reassure her. - -“I’m so afraid, Cus!” The tears came to her eyes. “I lay awake for -hours last night, thinking about it. Oh, Cus, I just couldn’t stand it -if they sent you to jail! Do you think the men who did it would let you -go for something they did? Could any one be so wicked? I never hated -any one in my life, but I could hate them, if they don’t come forward -and save you. I could _hate_ them, _hate_ them, _hate_ them! Oh, Cus, -I believe that I could _kill_ the man who would do such a thing to my -brother!” - -“Come, dear, don’t worry about it. The chances are that they’ll free -me. Even if they don’t, you mustn’t feel quite so bitterly against the -men who are responsible. There may be reasons that you know nothing of -that would keep them silent. Let’s not talk about it. All we can do now -is to wait and see what the grand jury is going to do. In the meantime -I don’t intend to worry.” - -Shannon Burke, her heart heavy with shame and sorrow, listened as might -a condemned man to the reading of his death sentence. She felt almost -the degradation that might have been hers had she deliberately planned -to ensnare Custer Pennington in the toils that had been laid for him. - -She determined that she would go before the grand jury and tell all she -knew. Then she would go away. She would not have to see the contempt -and hatred they must surely feel for her after she had recited the -cold facts that she must lay before the jury, unmitigated by any of -those extenuating truths that must lie forever hidden in the secret -recesses of her soul. They would know only that she might have warned -Custer, and did not; that she might have cleared him at his preliminary -hearing, and did not. The fact that she had come to his rescue at the -eleventh hour would not excuse her, in their minds, of the guilt -of having permitted the Pennington honor to be placed in jeopardy -needlessly; nor could it explain her knowledge of the crime, or those -associations of her past life that had made it possible for her to have -gained such knowledge. - -No, she could never face them again after the following Wednesday; but -until then she would cling to the brief days of happiness that remained -to her before the final catastrophe of her life, for it was thus that -she thought of it--the moment and the act that would forever terminate -her intercourse with the Penningtons, that would turn the respect of -the man she loved to loathing. - -She counted the hours before the end. There would be two more morning -rides--to-morrow and Tuesday. They would ask her to dinner, or to -lunch, or to breakfast several times in the ensuing three days, and -there would be rides with Custer. She would take all the happy memories -that she could into the bleak and sunless future. - -Their ride that morning was over a loved and familiar trail that led -across El Camino Corto over low hills into Horse Camp Cañon, and up -Horse Camp to Coyote Springs; then over El Camino Largo to Sycamore -Cañon and down beneath the old, old sycamores to the ranch. She felt -that she knew each bush and tree and bowlder, and they held for her the -quiet restfulness of the familiar faces of old friends. She should miss -them, but she would carry them in her memory forever. - -When they came to the fork in the road, she would not let Custer ride -home with her. - -“At eight thirty, then,” he called to her, as she urged Baldy into a -canter and left them with a gay wave of the hand that gave no token of -the heavy sorrow in her heart. - -As was her custom, she ate breakfast with Mr. and Mrs. Powers at the -little tenant cottage a couple of hundred yards in rear of her own -bungalow--a practice which gave her an opportunity to discuss each -day’s work in advance with her foreman, and at the same time to add -to her store of information concerning matters of ranching and citrus -culture. Her knowledge of these things had broadened rapidly, and was a -constant source of surprise to Powers, who took great pride in bragging -about it to his friends; for Shannon had won as great a hold upon the -hearts of these two as she had upon all who were fortunate enough to -know her well. - -After breakfast, as she was returning to her bungalow to write her -letters, she saw a Mexican boy on a bicycle turn in at her gate. They -met in front of the bungalow. - -“Are you Miss Burke?” he asked. “Bartolo says for you to come to his -camp in the mountains this morning, sure,” he went on, having received -an affirmative reply. - -“Who is Bartolo?” - -“He says you know. You went to his camp a week ago yesterday.” - -“Tell him I do not know him and will not go.” - -“He says to tell you that he only wants to talk to you about your -friend who is in trouble.” - -The girl thought for a moment. Possibly here was a way out of her -dilemma. If she could force Bartolo by threats of exposure, he might -discover a way to clear Custer Pennington without incriminating -himself. She turned to the boy. - -“Tell him I will come.” - -“I do not see him again. He is up in his camp now. He told me this -yesterday. He also told me to tell you that he would be watching for -you, and if you did not come alone you would not find him.” - -“Very well,” she said, and turned into the bungalow. - -She wrote her letters, but she was not thinking about them. Then she -took them over to Powers to take to the city for her. After that she -went to the telephone and called the Rancho del Ganado, asking for -Custer when she got the connection. - -“I’m terribly disappointed,” she said, when he came to the telephone. -“I find I simply can’t ride this morning; but if you’ll put it off -until afternoon----” - -“Why, certainly! Come up to lunch and we’ll ride afterward,” he told -her. - -“You won’t go, then, until afternoon?” she asked. - -“I’ll ride over to the east pasture this morning, and we’ll just take a -ride any old place that you want to go this afternoon.” - -“All right,” she replied. - -She had hoped that he would not ride that morning. There was a chance -that he might see her, even though the east pasture was miles from the -trail she would ride, for there were high places on both trails, where -a horseman would be visible for several miles. - -“This noon at lunch, then,” he said. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - - -Half an hour later Custer Pennington swung into the saddle and headed -the Apache up Sycamore Cañon. - -The trail to the east pasture led through Jackknife. As he passed the -spot where he had been arrested on the previous Friday night, the man -made a wry face--more at the recollection of the ease with which he -had been duped than because of the fact of his arrest. Being free from -any sense of guilt, he could view with a certain lightness of spirit -that was almost levity the mere physical aspects of possible duress. -The reality of his service to Eva could not but tend to compensate for -any sorrow he must feel because of the suffering his conviction and -imprisonment might bring to his family, so much greater must be their -sorrow should Eva be permitted to learn the truth. - -When Shannon had broken their engagement for the morning, he had felt -a disappointment entirely out of proportion to its cause--a thing -which he had realized himself, but had been unable to analyze. Now, in -anticipation of seeing her at noon and riding with her after lunch, he -experienced a rise in spirits that was equally unaccountable. He liked -her very much, and she was excellent company--which, of course, would -account for the pleasure he derived from being with her. To-day, too, -he hoped for an explanation of her ride into the mountains the week -before, so that there might be no longer any shadow on his friendship -for her. - -The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that this -afternoon she would explain the whole matter quite satisfactorily, and -presently he found himself whistling as if there were no such places as -jails or penitentiaries in the whole wide and beautiful world. - -Just then he reached the summit of the trail leading out of Jackknife -Cañon toward the east pasture. As was his wont, the Apache stopped -to breathe after the hard climb, and, as seems to be the habit of -all horses in like circumstances, he turned around and faced in the -opposite direction from that in which his rider had been going. - -Below and to Custer’s right the ranch buildings lay dotted about in the -dust like children’s toys upon a gray rug. Beyond was the castle on the -hill, shining in the sun, and farther still the soft-carpeted valley, -in grays and browns and greens. Then the young man’s glance wandered -to the left and out over the basin meadow, and instantly the joy died -out of his heart and the happiness from his eyes. Straight along the -mysterious trail loped a horse and rider toward the mountains, and even -at that distance he recognized them as Baldy and Shannon. - -The force of the shock was almost equivalent to an unexpected blow -in the face. What could it mean? He recalled her questions. She had -deliberately sought to learn his plans, as she had that other day, and -then, as before, she had hastened off to some mysterious rendezvous in -the hills. - -Suddenly a hot wave of anger surged through him. Quiet and -self-controlled as he usually was, there were times when the Pennington -temper seized and dominated him so completely that he himself was -appalled by the acts it precipitated. Under its spell a Pennington -might commit murder. Now Custer did what was almost as foreign to his -nature--he cursed the girl who rode on, unconscious of his burning eyes -upon her, toward the mountains. He cursed her aloud, searching his -memory for opprobrious epithets and anathemas to hurl after her. - -This was the end. He was through with her forever. What did he know -about her? What did any of them know about her? She had never mentioned -her life or associations in the city--he recalled that now. She had -known no one whom they knew, and they had taken her in and treated her -as a daughter of the house, without knowing anything of her; and this -was their reward! - -She was doubtless a hireling of the gang that had stolen the whisky and -disposed of it through Guy. They had sent her here to spy on Guy and to -watch the Penningtons. It was she who had set the trap in which he had -been caught, not to save Guy, but to throw the suspicion of guilt upon -Custer. - -But for what reason? There was no reason except that he had been -selected from the first to be the scapegoat when the government -officers were too hot upon their trail. She had watched him carefully. -God, but she had been cunning and he credulous! There had been scarce -a day that she had not been with him. She had ridden the hills with -him, and she had kept him from following the mysterious trail--so he -reasoned in his rage, though as a matter of fact she had done nothing -of the sort; but anger and hate are blind, and Custer Pennington was -angry and filled with hate. Unreasoning rage consumed him. - -He believed that he never had hated before as he hated this girl now, -so far to the other extreme had the shock of her duplicity driven his -regard for her. He would see her just once more, and he would tell -her what he thought of her, so that there might be no chance that she -would ever again enter the home of the Penningtons. He must see to that -before he went away, that Eva might not be exposed to the influence of -such a despicable character. - -But he could not see her to-day. He could not trust himself to see her, -for even in his anger he remembered that she was a woman, and that when -he saw her he must treat her as a woman. If she had been within reach -when he first discovered her, a moment since, he could have struck her, -choked her. - -With the realization, the senseless fury of his anger left him. He -turned the Apache away, and headed him again toward the east pasture; -but deep within his heart was a cold anger that was quite as terrible, -though in a different way. - -Shannon Burke rode up the trail toward the camp of the smugglers, all -unconscious that there looked down upon her from a high ridge behind -eyes filled with hate and loathing--the eyes of the man she loved. - -She put Baldy up the steep trail that had so filled her with terror -when she first scaled it, and down upon the other side into the grove -of oaks that had hidden the camp; but now there was no camp there--only -the debris that always marks the stopping place of men. - -As she reached the foot of the trail, she saw Bartolo standing beneath -a great oak, awaiting her. His pony stood with trailing reins beneath -the tree. A rifle butt protruded from a boot on the right of the -saddle. He came forward as she guided Baldy toward the tree. - -“_Buenos dias, señorita_,” he greeted her, twisting his pock-marked -face into the semblance of a smile. - -“What do you want of me?” Shannon demanded. - -“I need money,” he said. “You get money from Evans. He got all the -money from the hootch we take down two weeks ago. We never get no -chance to get it from him.” - -“I’ll get you nothing!” - -“You get money now--and whenever I want it,” said the Mexican, “or I -tell about Crumb. You Crumb’s woman. I tell how you peddle dope. I -know! You do what I tell you, or you go to the pen. _Sabe?_” - -“Now listen to me,” said the girl. “I didn’t come up here to take -orders from you. I came to give you orders.” - -“What?” exclaimed the Mexican, and then he laughed aloud. “You give me -orders? That is damn funny!” - -“Yes, it is funny. You will enjoy it immensely when I tell you what you -are to do.” - -“Hurry, then; I have no time to waste.” - -He was still laughing. - -“You are going to find some way to clear Mr. Pennington of the charge -against him. I don’t care what the way is, so long as it does not -incriminate any other innocent person. If you can do it without getting -yourself in trouble, well and good. I do not care; but you must see -that there is evidence given before the grand jury next Wednesday that -will prove Mr. Pennington’s innocence.” - -“Is that all?” inquired Bartolo, grinning broadly. - -“That is all.” - -“And if I don’t do it--eh?” - -“Then I shall go before the grand jury and tell them about you, and -Allen--about the opium and the morphine and the cocaine--how you -smuggled the stolen booze from the ship off the coast up into the -mountains.” - -“You think you would do that?” he asked. “But how about me? Wouldn’t I -be telling everything I know about you? Allen would testify, too, and -they would make Crumb come and tell how you lived with him. Oh, no, I -guess you don’t tell the grand jury nothing!” - -“I shall tell them everything. Do you think I care about myself? I will -tell them all that Allen or Crumb could tell; and listen, Bartolo--I -can tell them something more. There used to be five men in your gang. -There were three when I came up last week, and Allen is in jail; but -where is the other?” - -The man’s face went black with anger, and perhaps with fear, too. - -“What you know about that?” he demanded sharply. - -“Allen told Crumb the first time he came to the Hollywood bungalow -that he was having trouble among his gang, that you were a hard lot -to handle, and that already one named Bartolo had killed one named -Gracial. How would you like me to tell that to the grand jury?” - -“You never tell that to no one!” growled the Mexican. “You know too -damn much for your health!” - -He had stepped suddenly forward and seized her wrist. She struck at him -and at the same time put the spurs to Baldy--in her fear and excitement -more severely than she had intended. The high-spirited animal, unused -to such treatment, leaped forward past the Mexican, who, clinging -to the girl’s wrist, dragged her from the saddle. Baldy turned, and -feeling himself free, ran for the trail that led toward home. - -“You know too damn much!” repeated Bartolo. “You better off up here -alongside Gracial!” - -The girl had risen to her feet and stood facing him. There was no fear -in her eyes. She was very beautiful, and her beauty was not lost upon -the Mexican. - -“You mean that you would kill me to keep me from telling the truth -about you?” she asked. - -“Why not? Should I die instead? If you had kept your mouth shut, you -would have been all right; but now”--he shrugged suggestively--“you -better off up here beside Gracial.” - -“They’ll get you and hang you for it,” she said. - -“Who will know?” - -“The boy who brought me the message from you.” - -“He will not tell. He my son.” - -“I wrote a note and left it in my desk before I came up here, telling -everything, for fear of something of this sort,” she said. - -“You lie!” he accused, correctly; “but for fear you did, I go down and -burn your house to-night, after I get through with you. The ground -pretty hard after the hot weather--it take me long time to dig a hole -beside Gracial!” - -The girl was at her wits’ end now. Her pitiful little lie had not -availed. She began to realize that nothing would avail. She had made -the noose, stuck her head into it, and sprung the trap. It was too late -to alter the consequences. The man had the physique of a bull--she -could not hope to escape him by recourse to any power other than her -wits, and in the first effort along that line she had failed miserably -and put him on his guard. - -Her case appeared hopeless. She thought of pleading with him, but -realized the futility of it. The fact that she did not do so indicated -her courage, which had not permitted her to lose her head. She saw -that it was either his life or hers, as he saw the matter, and that it -was going to be hers was obvious. - -The man stood facing her, holding her by the wrist. His eyes appraised -her boldly. - -“You damn good-looking,” he said, and pulled the girl toward him. -“Before I kill you, I----” - -He threw an arm about her roughly, and, leaning far over her as she -pulled away, he sought to reach her lips with his. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - - -The Apache had taken but a few steps on the trail toward the east -pasture when Custer reined him in suddenly and wheeled him about. - -“I’ll settle this thing now,” he muttered. “I’ll catch her with them. -I’ll find out who the others are. By God, I’ve got her now, and I’ve -got them!” - -He spurred the Apache into a lope along the steep and dangerous -declivity leading downward into the basin. The horse was surprised. -Never before had he been allowed to go down hill faster than a -walk--his sound forelegs attested the careful horsemanship of his rider. - -Where the trail wound around bushes, he took perilous jumps on the -steep hillside, for his speed was too great to permit him to make the -short turns. He cleared them, and somehow he stuck to the trail beyond. -His iron shoes struck fire from half embedded bowlders. - -A rattler crossing the trail ahead coiled, buzzing its warning. The -hillside was steep--there was no footing above or below the snake. -The Apache could not have stopped in time to save himself from those -poisoned fangs. A coward horse would have wheeled and gone over the -cliff; but the Morgan is no coward. - -The rider saw the danger at the instant the horse did. The animal felt -the spurs touch him lightly, he heard a word of encouragement from the -man he trusted. As the snake struck, he rose, gathering his four feet -close to his belly, and cleared the danger spot far out of reach of the -needle-like fangs. - -The trail beyond was narrow, rocky, and shelving--the thing could not -have happened in a worse place. The Apache lit, stumbled, slipped. His -off hind foot went over the edge. He lunged forward upon his knees. - -Only the cool horsemanship of his rider saved them both. A pound of -weight thrown in the wrong direction would have toppled the horse to -the bottom of the rocky gorge; a heavy hand upon the bit would have -accomplished the same result. Pennington sat easily the balanced seat -that gave the horse the best chance to regain his footing. His touch -upon the bit was only sufficient to impart confidence to his mount, -giving the animal’s head free play, as nature intended, as he scrambled -back to the trail again. - -At last they reached the safer footing of the basin, and were off in -a straight line for the ravine into which led the mysterious trail. -The Apache knew that there was need for haste--an inclination of his -master’s body, a closing of the knees against his barrel, the slight -raising of the bridle hand, had told him this more surely than loud -cries of the punishment of steel rowels. He flattened out and flew. - -The cold rage that gripped Pennington brooked no delay. He was glad, -though, that he was unarmed; for he knew that when he came face to face -with the men with whom Shannon Burke had conspired against him, he -might again cease to be master of his anger. - -They reached the foot of the acclivity terminating at the summit of the -ridge beyond which lay the camp of the bootleggers. Again the man urged -his mount to the necessity of speed. The powerful beast leaped upward -along the steep trail, digging his toes deep into the sun-baked soil, -every muscle in his body strained to the limit of its powers. - -At the summit they met Baldy, head and tail erect, snorting and -riderless. The appearance of the horse and his evident fright bespoke -something amiss. Custer had seen him just as he was emerging from -the upper end of the dim trail leading down the opposite side of the -hogback. He turned the Apache into it and headed him down toward the -oaks. - -Below, Shannon was waging a futile fight against the burly Bartolo. -She struck at his face and attempted to push him from her, but he only -laughed his crooked laugh and pushed her slowly toward the trampled -dust of the abandoned camp. - -“Before I kill you----” he repeated again and again, as if it were some -huge joke. - -He heard the sound of the Apache’s hoofs upon the trail above, but he -thought it the loose horse of the girl. Custer was almost at the bottom -of the trail when the Mexican glanced up and saw him. With a curse, he -hurled Shannon aside and leaped toward his pony. - -At the same instant the girl saw the Apache and his rider, and in -the next she saw Bartolo seize his rifle and attempt to draw it from -its boot. Leaping to her feet, she sprang toward the Mexican, who -was cursing frightfully because the rifle had stuck and he could not -readily extricate it from the boot. As she reached him, he succeeded -in jerking the weapon free. Swinging about, he threw it to his -shoulder and fired at Pennington, just as Shannon threw herself upon -him, clutching at his arms and dragging the muzzle of the weapon -downward. He struck at her face, and tried to wrench the rifle from her -grasp; but she clung to it with all the desperation that the danger -confronting the man she loved engendered. - -Custer had thrown himself from the saddle and was running toward them. -Bartolo saw that he could not regain the rifle in time to use it. -He struck the girl a terrible blow in the face that sent her to the -ground. Then he turned and vaulted into his saddle, and was away across -the bottom and up the trail on the opposite side before Pennington -could reach him and drag him from his pony. - -Custer turned to the girl lying motionless upon the ground. He knelt -and raised her in his arms. She had fainted, and her face was very -white. He looked down into it--the face of the girl he hated. He felt -his arms about her, he felt her body against his, and suddenly a look -of horror filled his eyes. - -He laid her back upon the ground, and stood up. He was trembling -violently. As he had held her in his arms, there had swept over him an -almost irresistible desire to crush her to him, to cover her eyes and -cheeks with kisses, to smother her lips with them--the girl he hated! - -A great light had broken upon his mental horizon--a light of -understanding that left all his world in the dark shadow of despair. He -loved Shannon Burke! - -Again he knelt beside her, and very gently he lifted her in his arms -until he could support her across one shoulder. Then he whistled to the -Apache, who was nibbling the bitter leaves of the live oak. When the -horse came to him, he looped the bridle reins about his arm and started -on foot up the trail down which he had just ridden, carrying Shannon -across his shoulder. At the summit of the ridge he found Baldy grazing -upon the sparse, burned grasses of late September. - -It was then that Shannon Burke opened her eyes. At first, confused -by the rush of returning recollections, she thought that it was the -Mexican who was carrying her; but an instant later she recognized the -whipcord riding breeches and the familiar boots and spurs of the son of -Ganado. Then she stirred upon his shoulder. - -“I am all right now,” she said. “You may put me down. I can walk.” - -He lowered her to the ground, but he still supported her as they stood -facing each other. - -“You came just in time,” she said. “He was going to kill me.” - -“I am glad I came,” was all that he said. - -She noticed how tired and pinched Custer’s face looked, as if he had -risen from a sick bed after a long period of suffering. He looked -older--very much older--and oh, so sad! It wrung her heart; but she did -not question him. She was waiting for him to question her, for she knew -that he must wonder why she had come here, and what the meaning of the -encounter he had witnessed; but he did not ask her anything, beyond -inquiring whether she thought she was strong enough to sit her saddle -if he helped her mount. - -“I shall be all right now,” she assured him. - -He caught Baldy and assisted her into the saddle. Then he mounted the -Apache and led the way along the trail toward home. They were halfway -across the basin meadow before either spoke. It was Shannon who broke -the silence. - -“You must have wondered what I was doing up there,” she said, with a -backward nod of her head. - -“That would not be strange, would it?” - -“I will tell you.” - -“No,” he said. “It is bad enough that you went there to-day and the -Saturday before I was arrested. Anything more that you could tell -me would only make it worse. Do you remember that girl I told you -about--that friend of Cousin William--who visited us?” - -“Yes.” - -“I followed you up here to-day to tell you the same thing I told her.” - -“I understand,” she said. - -“You do not understand,” he snapped, almost angrily. “You understand -nothing. I only said that I followed to tell you that. I have not told -you, have I? Well, I don’t intend to tell you; but my shame that I -don’t is enough without you telling me any more to add to it. There -can be no honorable excuse for your having come here that other time, -or this time, either. There is no reason in the world why a woman -should have any dealings with criminals, or any knowledge that would -make dealings with them possible. That is the reason I don’t want you -to tell me more. Oh, Shannon”--his voice broke--“I don’t want to hear -anything bad about you!... Please!” - -She had been upon the verge of just anger until then. Even now she did -not understand--only that he wanted to believe in her, however much he -doubted her, and that their friendship had meant more to him than she -had imagined. - -“But I must tell you, Custer,” she insisted. “Now that you have learned -this much, I can see that your suspicions wrong me more than I deserve. -I came here the Saturday before you were arrested to warn them that -you were going to watch for them on the following Friday. Though I did -not know the men, I knew what sort they were, and that they would kill -you the moment they found that they were discovered. It was only to -save your life that I came that other time, and this time I came to try -to force them to go before the grand jury and clear you of the charge -against you; but when I threatened the man, and he found what I knew -about him, he said that he would kill me.” - -“You did not know that I was going to be arrested that night?” - -“Oh, Custer, how could you believe that of me?” exclaimed Shannon. - -“I didn’t want to believe it.” - -“I came into all this information--about the work of this gang--by -accidentally overhearing a conversation in Hollywood, months ago. I -know the names of the principals, I know Guy’s connection with them. -To-day I was trying to keep Guy’s name out, too, if that were possible; -but he is guilty and you are not. I cannot understand how he could come -back from Los Angeles without telling them the truth and removing the -suspicion from you.” - -“I would not let him,” said Pennington. - -“You would not let him? You would go to the penitentiary for the crime -of another?” - -“Not for him, but for Eva. Guy and I thrashed it all out. He wanted to -give himself up--he almost demanded that I should let him; but it can’t -be done. Eva must never know.” - -“But, Custer, you can’t go! It wouldn’t be fair--it wouldn’t be right. -I won’t let you go! I know enough to clear you, and I shall go before -the grand jury on Wednesday and tell all I know.” - -“No,” he said. “You must not. It would involve Guy.” - -“I won’t mention Guy.” - -“But you will mention others, and they will mention Guy--don’t doubt -that for a minute.” He turned suddenly toward her. “Promise me, -Shannon, that you will not go--that you will not mention what you know -to a living soul. I would rather go to the pen for twenty years than -see Eva’s life ruined. You don’t know her. She’s gay and happy and -frivolous on the outside; but deep within her is a soul of wondrous -sensitiveness and beauty, which is fortified and guarded by her pride -and her honor. Strike down one of these, and you will have given her -soul a wound from which it may never recover. She can understand -neither meanness nor depravity in men and women. Should she ever learn -that Guy had been connected with this gang, and that the money upon -which they were to start their married life was the fruits of his -criminality, it would break her heart. I know that Guy isn’t criminally -inclined, and that this will be a lesson that will keep him straight as -long as he lives; but she wouldn’t look at it that way. Now do you see -why you must not tell what you know?” - -“Perhaps you are right, but it seems to me she would not suffer any -more if Guy went than if her brother went. She loves you very much.” - -“But she will know that I am innocent. If Guy went, she would know that -he was guilty.” - -Shannon had no answer to this, and they were silent for a while. - -“You will help me to keep this from Eva?” he asked. - -“Yes.” - -She was thinking of the futility of her sacrifice, and wondering what -explanation he was putting upon her knowledge of the activities of the -criminals. He had said that there could be no reason in the world why -a woman should have any dealings with such men, or any knowledge that -would make dealings with them possible. What would he think of her if -he knew the truth? - -The man’s mind was a chaos of conflicting thoughts--the -sudden realization of a love that was as impossible as it was -unwelcome--recollection of his vows to Grace, which were as binding -upon his honor as the marriage vows themselves would have been--doubts -as to the character and antecedents of this girl who rode at his side -to-day, and whose place in his life had suddenly assumed an importance -beyond that of any other. - -Then he turned a little, his eyes rested upon her profile, and he found -it hard to doubt her. - -Shannon felt his eyes upon her, and looked up. - -“You have been so good to me, Custer, all of you--you can never know -how I have valued the friendship of the Penningtons, or what it has -meant to me, or how I have striven to deserve it. I would have done -anything to repay a part, at least, of what it has done for me. That -was what I was trying to do--that is why I wanted to go before the -grand jury, no matter what the cost to me; but I failed, and perhaps I -have only made it worse. I do not even know that you believe me.” - -“I believe you, Shannon,” he said. “There is much that I do not -understand; but I believe that what you did was done in our interests. -There is nothing more that any of us can do now but keep still about -what we know, for the moment one of those actually responsible -is threatened with exposure Guy’s name will be divulged--you may -rest assured of that. They would be only too glad to shift the -responsibility to his shoulders.” - -“But you will make some effort to defend yourself?” - -“I shall simply plead not guilty, and tell the truth about why I was up -there when the officers arrested me.” - -“You will make no other defense?” - -“What other defense can I make that would not risk incriminating Guy?” -Custer asked her. - -She shook her head. It seemed quite hopeless. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - - -Federal officers, searching the hills found the camp above Jackknife -Cañon. They collected a number of empty bottles bearing labels -identical with those on the bottles in the cases carried by the -burros, and those found in Custer Pennington’s room. That was all they -discovered, except that the camp was located on the Pennington property. - -The district attorney, realizing the paucity of evidence calculated to -convict the prisoner on any serious charge, was inclined to drop the -prosecution; but the prohibition enforcement agents, backed by a band -of women, most of whom had never performed a woman’s first duty to the -state and society, and therefore had ample time to meddle in affairs -far beyond the scope of their intellects, seized upon the prominence -of the Pennington name to gain notoriety for themselves on the score -that the conviction of a member of a prominent family would have an -excellent moral effect upon the community at large. - -Just how they arrived at this conclusion it is difficult to discern. -Similarly one might argue that if it could be proved that the Pope was -a pickpocket, it would be tremendously effective in regenerating the -morals of the world. - -Be that as it may, the works of the righteous were not without fruit, -for on the 12th of October Custer Pennington was found guilty and -sentenced to six months in the county jail for having had several -hundred dollars’ worth of stolen whisky in his possession. He was -neither surprised nor disheartened. His only concern was for the -sensibilities of his family, and these--represented at the trial in the -person of his father--seemed far from overwhelmed, for the colonel was -unalterably convinced of his son’s innocence. - -Eva, who had remained at home with her mother, was more deeply affected -than the others, though through a sense of injustice rather than of -shame. Shannon, depressed by an unwarranted sense of responsibility -for the wrong that Custer had suffered, and chagrined that force of -circumstances should have prevented her from saving the Penningtons -from a stain upon their escutcheon, found it increasingly difficult to -continue her intimacy with these loved friends. Carrying in her heart -the knowledge and the proof of his innocence, she regarded herself as a -traitor among them, and in consequence held herself more and more aloof -from their society, first upon one pretext and then upon another. - -At a loss to account for her change toward them, Eva, in a moment of -depression, attributed it to the disgrace of Custer’s imprisonment. - -“She is ashamed to associate with the family of a--a--jailbird!” she -cried. - -“I don’t believe anything of the kind,” replied the colonel. “Shannon’s -got too much sense, and she’s too loyal. That’s all damned poppycock!” - -“I’m sure she couldn’t feel that way,” said Mrs. Pennington. “She has -been just as positive in her assertions of Custer’s innocence as any of -us.” - -“You might as well think the same about Guy,” said the colonel. “He’s -scarcely been up here since Custer’s arrest.” - -“He’s very busy on a new story. Anyway, I asked him about that very -thing, and offered to break the engagement if he felt our disgrace too -keenly to want to marry into the family.” - -The colonel drew her down to his knee. - -“You silly little girl!” he said. “Do you suppose that this has made -any difference in the affection that Guy or any other of our real -friends feel for us? Not in the slightest. Even if Cus were guilty, -they would not change. Those who did we would be better off not to -know. I am rather jealous of the Pennington honor myself, but I have -never felt that this affair is any reflection upon it, and you need -not.” - -“But I can’t help it, popsy. My brother, my dear brother, in jail with -a lot of thieves and murderers and horrible people like that! It is -just too awful! I lie awake at night thinking about it. I am ashamed to -go to the village, for fear some one will point at me and say, ‘There -goes the girl whose brother is in jail!’” - -“You are taking it much too hard, dear,” said her mother. “One would -think that our boy was really guilty.” - -“Oh, if he really were, I should kill myself!” - -The only person, other than the officious reformers, to derive any -happiness from young Pennington’s fate was Slick Allen. He occupied -a cell not far from Custer’s, and there were occasions when they -were thrown together. Several times Allen saw fit to fling gibes at -his former employer, much to the amusement of his fellows. They were -usually indirect. - -One day, as Custer was passing, Allen remarked in a loud tone: - -“There’s a lot more of these damn fox-trottin’ dudes that put on airs, -but ain’t nothin’ but common thieves!” - -Pennington turned and faced him. - -“You remember what you got the last time you tried calling me names, -Allen? Well, don’t think for a minute that just because we’re in -jail I won’t hand you the same thing again some day, if you get too -funny. The trouble with you, Allen, is that you are laboring under the -misapprehension that you are a humorist. You’re not, and if I were you -I wouldn’t make faces at the only man in this jail who knows about you, -and Bartolo, and--Gracial. Don’t forget Gracial!” - -Allen paled, and his eyes closed to two very narrow slits. He made no -more observations concerning Pennington; but he devoted much thought -to him, trying to arrive at some reasonable explanation of the man’s -silence, when it was evident that he must have sufficient knowledge of -the guilt of others to clear himself of the charge upon which he had -been convicted. - -To Allen’s hatred of Custer was now added a real fear, for he had been -present when Bartolo killed Gracial. The other two witnesses had been -Mexicans, and Allen had no doubt but that if Bartolo were accused, the -three of them would swear that the American committed the murder. - -One of the first things to do, when he was released from jail, would -be to do away with Bartolo. Bartolo disposed of, the other witnesses -would join with Allen to lay the guilt upon the departed. Such pleasant -thoughts occupied the time and mind of Slick Allen, as did also his -plans for paying one Wilson Crumb a little debt he felt due this -one-time friend. - -Nor was Crumb free from apprehension for the time that would see -Allen’s jail sentence fulfilled. He well knew the nature of the man. -It is typical of drug addicts to disregard the effect of their acts -further than the immediate serving of their own interests, and the -director had encompassed Allen’s arrest merely to meet the emergency of -the moment. Later, as time gave him the opportunity to consider what -must inevitably follow Allen’s release, he began to take thought as to -means whereby he might escape the just deserts of his treachery. - -He knew enough of Allen’s activities to send the man to a Federal -prison for a long term, but these matters he could not divulge without -equally incriminating himself. There was, however, one little item of -Allen’s past which might be used against him without signal danger to -Crumb, and that was the murder of Gracial. It would not be necessary -for Crumb to appear in the matter at all. An anonymous letter to the -police would suffice to direct suspicion of the crime toward Allen, and -to insure for Crumb, if not permanent immunity, at least a period of -reprieve. - -With the natural predilection of the weak for avoiding or delaying the -consummation of their intentions, Crumb postponed the writing of this -letter of accusation. There was no cause for hurry, he argued, since -Allen’s time would not expire until the 6th of the following August. - -Crumb led a lonely life after the departure of Gaza. His infatuation -for the girl had as closely approximated love as a creature of his -type could reach. He had come to depend upon her, and to look forward -to finding her at the Vista del Paso bungalow on his return from the -studio. Since her departure his evenings had been unbearable, and with -the passing weeks he developed a hatred for the place that constantly -reminded him of his loss. He had been so confident that she would have -to return to him after she had consumed the small quantity of morphine -he had allotted her that only after the weeks had run into months did -he realize that she had probably gone out of his life forever. How she -had accomplished it he could not understand, unless she had found means -of obtaining the narcotic elsewhere. - -Not knowing where she had gone, he had no means of searching for her. -In his own mind, however, he was convinced that she must have returned -to Los Angeles. Judging others by himself, he could conceive of no -existence that would be supportable beyond the limits of a large city, -where the means for the gratification of his vice might be obtained. - -That Gaza de Lure had successfully thrown off the fetters into which he -had tricked her never for a moment entered his calculations. Finally, -however, it was borne in upon him that there was little likelihood of -her returning; and so depressing had become the familiar and suggestive -furnishings of the Vista del Paso bungalow that he at last gave it up, -stored his furniture, and took a room at a local hotel. He took with -him, carefully concealed in a trunk, his supply of narcotics--which -he did not find it so easy to dispose of since the departure of his -accomplice. - -During the first picture in which Grace Evans had worked with him, -Crumb had become more and more impressed with her beauty and the subtle -charm of her refinement, which appealed to him by contrast with the -ordinary surroundings and personalities of the K. K. S. studio. There -was a quiet restfulness about her which soothed his diseased nerves, -and after Gaza’s desertion he found himself more and more seeking her -society. As was his accustomed policy, his attentions were at first so -slight, and increased by such barely perceptible degrees, that, taken -in connection with his uniform courtesy, they gave the girl no warning -of his ultimate purposes. - -The matter of the test had shocked and disgusted her for the moment; -but the thing having been done, and no harm coming from it, she began -to consider even that with less revulsion than formerly. The purpose of -it she had never been able to fathom; but if Crumb had intended it to -place him insidiously upon a plane of greater intimacy with the girl, -he had succeeded. That the effect was subjective rendered it none the -less effective. - -Added to these factors in the budding intimacy between the director and -the extra girl was the factor which is always most potent in similar -associations--the fear that the girl holds of offending a potent ally, -and the hope of propitiating a power in which lies the potentiality of -success upon the screen. - -Lunches at Frank’s, dinners at the Ship, dances at the Country Club, -led by easy gradations to more protracted parties at the Sunset -Inn and the Green Mill. The purposes of Crumb’s shrewdly conceived -and carefully executed plan were twofold. Primarily, he sought a -companionship to replace that of which Gaza de Lure had robbed him. -Secondarily, he needed a new tool to assist in the disposal of the -considerable store of narcotics that he had succeeded in tricking Allen -and his accomplices into delivering to him with the understanding that -he would divide the profits of the sales with them--which, however, -Crumb had no intention of doing if he could possibly avoid it. - -In much the same manner that he had tricked Gaza de Lure, he tricked -Grace Evans into the use of cocaine; and after that the rest was easy. -Renting another and less pretentious bungalow on Circle Terrace, he -installed the girl there, and transferred the trunk of narcotics to her -care, retaining his room at the hotel for himself. - -Grace’s fall was more easily accomplished than in the case of Gaza, -and was more complete, for the former had neither the courage nor the -strength of character that had enabled the other to withstand the -more degrading advances of her tempter. To assume that the girl made -no effort to oppose his importunings would be both unfair and unjust, -for both heredity and training had endowed her with a love of honor -and a horror of the sordidness of vice; but the gradual undermining of -her will by the subtle inroads of narcotics rendered her powerless to -withstand the final assault upon the citadel of her scruples. - -One evening, toward the middle of October, they were dining together -at the Winter Garden. Crumb had bought an evening paper on the street, -and was glancing through it as they sat waiting for their dinner to be -served. Presently he looked up at the girl seated opposite him. - -“Didn’t you come from a little jerk-water place up the line, called -Ganado?” he asked. - -She nodded affirmatively. - -“Why?” - -“Here’s a guy from there been sent up for bootlegging--fellow by the -name of Pennington.” - -She half closed her eyes, as if in pain. - -“I know,” she said. “It has been in the newspapers for the last couple -of weeks.” - -“Did you know him?” - -“Yes--he has been out to see me since his arrest, and he called up -once.” - -“Did you see him?” - -“No--I would be ashamed to see any decent person!” - -“Decent!” snorted Crumb. “You don’t call a damned bootlegger decent, do -you?” - -“I don’t believe he ever did it,” said the girl. “I have known him all -my life, and his family. I’m certain that he couldn’t have done it.” - -A sudden light came into Crumb’s eye. - -“By God!” he exclaimed, bringing his fist down upon the table. - -“What is the matter?” Grace inquired. - -“Well, wouldn’t that get you?” he exclaimed. “I never connected you at -all!” - -“What do you mean?” - -“This fellow Pennington may not be guilty, but I know who is.” - -“How do you know? I don’t understand you. Why do you look at me that -way?” - -“Well, if that isn’t the best ever!” exclaimed the man. “And here you -have been handing me a long line of talk about the decent family you -came from, and how it would kill them if they knew you sniffed a little -coke now and then. Well, wouldn’t that get you? You certainly are a -fine one to preach!” - -“I don’t understand you,” said the girl. “What has this to do with me? -I am not related to Mr. Pennington, but it would make no difference if -I were, for I know he never did anything of the sort. The idea of a -Pennington bootlegging! Why, they have more money than they need, and -always have had.” - -“It isn’t Pennington who ought to be in jail,” he said. “It’s your -brother.” - -She looked at him in surprise, and then she laughed. - -“You must have been hitting it up strong to-day, Wilson,” she said. - -“Oh, no, I haven’t; but it’s funny I never thought of it before. -Allen told me a long while ago that a fellow by the name of Evans was -handling the hootch for him. He said he got a job from the Penningtons -as stableman in order to be near the camp where they had the stuff -cached in the hills. He described Evans as a young blood, so I guess -there isn’t any doubt about it. You have a brother--I’ve heard you -speak of him.” - -“I don’t believe you,” she said. - -“It don’t make any difference whether you believe me or not. I could -put your brother in the pen, and they’ve only got Pennington in the -county jail. All they could get on him, according to this article, was -having stolen goods in his possession; but your brother was in on the -whole proposition. It was hidden in his hay barn. He delivered it to a -fellow who came up there every week, ostensibly to get hay, and your -brother collected the money. Gosh, they’d send him up for sure if I -ever tipped them off to what I know!” - -And thus was fashioned the power he used to force her to his will. - -A week later the bungalow on Circle Terrace was engaged, and Grace -Evans took up the work of peddling narcotics, which Shannon Burke had -laid down a few months before. With this difference--Gaza de Lure had -shared in the profits of the traffic, while Grace Evans got nothing -more than her living, and what drugs she craved for her personal use. - -Her life, her surroundings, every environment of this new and terrible -world into which her ambition had introduced her, tended rapidly to -ravish her beauty. She faded with a rapidity that was surprising even -to Crumb--surprising and annoying. He had wanted her for her beauty, -and now she was losing it; but still he must keep her, because of her -value in his nefarious commerce. - -As weeks and months went by, he no longer took pleasure in her -society, and was seldom at the bungalow save when he came to demand -an accounting and to collect the proceeds of her sales. Her pleas and -reproaches had no other effect upon him than to arouse his anger. One -day, when she clung to him, begging him not to desert her, he pushed -her roughly from him so that she fell, and in falling she struck the -edge of a table and hurt herself. - -This happened in April. On the following day Custer Pennington, his -term in the county jail expired, was liberated. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - - -Custer’s long hours of loneliness had often been occupied with plans -against the day of his liberation. That Grace had not seen him or -communicated with him since his arrest and conviction had been a source -of wonder and hurt to him. He recalled many times the circumstance of -the telephone call, with a growing belief that Grace had been there, -but had refused to talk with him. Nevertheless, he was determined to -see her before he returned to Ganado. - -He had asked particularly that none of his family should come to Los -Angeles on the day of his release, but that the roadster should be sent -up on the preceding day and left in a garage for him. He lost no time, -after quitting the jail, in getting his machine and driving out to -Hollywood, to the house where Grace had boarded. - -The woman who answered his ring told him that Grace no longer lived -there. At first she was loath to give him any information as to the -girl’s whereabouts; but after some persuasion she gave him a number on -Circle Terrace, and in that direction Pennington turned his car. - -As he left his car before the bungalow, and approached the building, he -could see into the interior through the screen door, for it was a warm -day in April, and the inner door was open. As he mounted the few steps -leading to the porch, he saw a woman cross the living room, into which -the door opened. She moved hurriedly, disappearing through a doorway -opposite and closing the door after her. Though he had but a brief -glimpse of her in the darkened interior, he knew that it was Grace, -so familiar were every line of her figure and every movement of her -carriage. - -It was several minutes after Custer rang before a Japanese appeared at -the doorway. It was the same Japanese “schoolboy” who had served as -general factotum at the Vista del Paso bungalow. He opened the screen -door a few inches and looked inquiringly at the caller. - -“I wish to see Miss Evans,” said Custer. - -He took a card case from his pocket and handed a card to the servant, -who looked blankly at the card and then at the caller, finally shaking -his head stupidly and closing the door. - -“No here,” he said. “Nobody home.” - -Pennington recalled once more the affair of the telephone. He knew that -he had just seen Grace inside the bungalow. He had come to talk with -her, and he intended to do so. - -He laid his hand on the handle of the door and jerked it open. The -Jap, evidently lacking in discretion, endeavored to prevent him from -entering. First the guardian clawed at the door in an effort to close -it, and then, very foolishly, he attempted to push Pennington out on -the porch. The results were disastrous to the Jap. - -Crossing the living room, Custer rapped on the door through which he -had seen Grace go, calling her by name. Receiving no reply, he flung -the door open. Facing him was the girl he was engaged to marry. - -With her back against the dresser, Grace stood at the opposite end of -the room. Her disheveled hair fell about her face, which was overspread -with a sickly pallor. Her wild, staring eyes were fixed upon him. Her -mouth, drooping at the corners, tremulously depicted a combination of -terror and anger. - -“Grace!” he exclaimed. - -She still stood staring at him for a moment before she spoke. - -“What do you mean,” she demanded at last, “by breaking into my bedroom? -Get out! I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you here!” - -He crossed the room and put a hand upon her shoulder. - -“My God, Grace,” he cried, “what is the matter? What has happened to -you?” - -“Nothing has happened,” she mumbled. “There is nothing the matter with -me. I suppose you want me to go back with the rest of the rubes. I am -through with the damned country--and country jakes, too!” she added. - -“You mean that you don’t want me here, Grace? That you don’t love me?” -he asked. - -“Love you?” She broke into a disagreeable laugh. “Why, you poor rube, I -never want to see you again!” - -He stood looking at her for a moment longer, and then he turned slowly -and walked out of the bungalow and down to his car. When he had -gone, the girl threw herself face down upon the bed and burst into -uncontrollable sobs. For the moment she had risen triumphant above the -clutches of her sordid vice. For that brief moment she had played her -part to save the man she loved from greater torture and humiliation in -the future--at what a price only she could ever know. - -Custer found them waiting for him on the east porch as he drove up to -the ranch house. The new freedom and the long drive over the beautiful -highway through the clear April sunshine, with the green hills at his -left and the lovely valley spread out upon his right hand, to some -extent alleviated the depression that had followed the shock of his -interview with Grace; and when he alighted from the car he seemed quite -his normal self again. - -Eva was the first to reach him. She fairly threw herself upon her -brother, laughing and crying in a hysteria of happiness. His mother was -smiling through her tears, while the colonel blew his nose violently, -remarking that it was “a hell of a time of year to have a damned cold!” - -Custer joked a little about his imprisonment, but he soon saw that the -mere mention of it had a most depressing effect upon Eva; so he did -not revert to the subject again in her presence. He confined himself -to plying them with a hundred questions about happenings on the ranch -during his long absence, the condition of the stock, and the crop -outlook for the season. - -As he considered the effect his undeserved jail sentence had produced -upon the sensibilities of his sister, he was doubly repaid for the -long months of confinement that he had suffered in order to save -her from the still greater blow of having the man she was to marry -justly convicted of a far more serious crime. He saw no reason now -why she should ever learn the truth. The temporary disgrace of his -incarceration would soon be forgotten in the everyday run of work and -pleasure that constituted the life of Ganado, and the specter of her -hurt pride would no longer haunt her. - -Custer was surprised that Guy and Mrs. Evans had not been of the -party that welcomed his return. When he mentioned this, Eva told him -that Mrs. Evans thought the Penningtons would want to have him all to -themselves for a while, and that their neighbors were coming up after -dinner. And it was not until dinner that he asked after Shannon. - -“We have seen very little of her since you left,” explained his mother. -“She returned Baldy soon after that, and bought the Senator from Mrs. -Evans.” - -“I don’t know what is the matter with the child,” said the colonel. -“She is as sweet as ever when we do see her, and she always asks after -you and tells us that she believes in your innocence. She rides a great -deal at night, but seldom, if ever, in the daytime. I don’t think it is -safe for a woman to ride alone in the hills at night, and I have told -her so; but she says that she is not afraid, and that she loves the -hills as well by night as by day.” - -“Eva has missed her company very much,” said Mrs. Pennington. “I was -afraid that we might have done something to offend her, but none of us -could think what it could have been.” - -“I thought she was ashamed of us,” said Eva. - -“Nonsense!” exclaimed the colonel. - -“Of course that’s nonsense,” said Custer. “She knows as well as the -rest of you that I was innocent.” - -He was thinking how much more surely Shannon knew his innocence than -any of them. - -During dinner Eva regained her old-time spirit. More than once the -tears came to Mrs. Pennington’s eyes as she realized that once more -their little family was united, and that the pall of sorrow that had -weighed so heavily upon them for the past six months had at last -lifted, revealing again the sunshine of the daughter’s heart, which had -never been the same since their boy had gone away. - -“Oh, Cus!” exclaimed Eva. “The most scrumptious thing is going to -happen, and I’m so glad that you are going to be here too. It’s going -to be perfectly gorgeristic! There’s be a whole regiment of them, and -they’re going to be camped right up at the mouth of Jackknife. I can -scarcely wait until they come--can you?” - -“I think I might manage,” said her brother; “at least until you tell me -what you are talking about.” - -“Pictures,” exclaimed Eva. “Isn’t it simplimetic gorgeristic? And they -may be here a whole month!” - -“What in the world is the child talking about?” asked Custer, appealing -to his mother. - -“Your father----” Mrs. Pennington started to explain. - -“Oh, don’t tell him”; cried Eva. “I want to tell him myself.” - -“You have been explaining for several minutes,” said Custer; “but you -haven’t said anything yet.” - -“Well, I’ll start at the beginning, then. They’re going to have -Indians, and cowboys, and----” - -“That sounds more like the finish,” suggested Custer. - -“Don’t interrupt me! They’re going to take a picture on Ganado.” - -Custer turned toward his father with a look of surprise. - -“You needn’t blame papa,” said Eva. “It was all my fault--or, rather, -I should say our good fortune is all due to me. You see, papa wasn’t -going to let them come at first, but the cutest man came up to see -him--a nice, short, fat little man, and he rubbed his hands together -and said: ‘Vell, colonel?’ Papa told him that he had never allowed any -picture companies on the place; but I happened to be there, and that -was all that saved us, for I teased and teased and teased until finally -papa said that they could come, provided they didn’t take any pictures -up around the house. They didn’t want to do that, for they’re making a -Western picture, and they said the scenery at the back of the ranch is -just what they want. They’re coming up in a few days, and it’s going to -be perfectly radiant, and maybe I’ll get in the pictures!” - -“If I thought so,” said Custer, “I’d put a can of nitroglycerine under -the whole works the moment they drove on to the property!” He was -thinking of what the pictures had done for Grace Evans. “I am surprised -that you permitted it, father,” he said, turning to the colonel. - -“I’m rather surprised myself,” admitted the older Pennington; “but what -was I to do, with that suave little location manager rubbing his hands -and oiling me on one side, and this little rascal here pestering the -life out of me on the other? I simply had to give in. I don’t imagine -any harm will come from it. They’ve promised to be very careful of all -the property, and whenever any of our stock is used it will be handled -by our own men.” - -“I suppose they are going to pay you handsomely for it,” suggested -Custer. - -The colonel smiled. - -“Well, that wasn’t exactly mentioned,” he said; “but I have a -recollection that the location manager said something about presenting -us with a fine set of stills of the ranch.” - -“Generous of them!” said Custer. “They’ll camp all over the shop, -use our water, burn our firewood, and trample up our pasture, and in -return they’ll give us a set of photographs. Their liberality is truly -marvelous!” - -“Well, to tell you the truth,” said the colonel, “after I found how -anxious Eva was, I wouldn’t have dared mention payment, for fear they -might refuse to come and this young lady’s life might be ruined in -consequence!” - -“What outfit is it?” asked the son. - -“It’s a company from the K. K. S., directed by a man by the name of -Crumb.” - -“Wilson Crumb, the famous actor-director,” added Eva. “How perfectly -radiant! I danced with him in Los Angeles a year ago.” - -“Oh, that’s the fellow, is it?” said Custer. “I have a hazy -recollection that you were mad about him for some fifteen minutes after -you reached home, but I have never heard you mention him since.” - -“Well, to tell you the truth,” said Eva, “I had forgotten all about him -until that perfectly gorgeous little loquacious manager mentioned him.” - -“Location manager,” corrected her father. - -“He was both.” - -“Yes, he was,” said the colonel. “I rather hope he comes back. I -haven’t enjoyed any one so much since the days of Weber and Fields.” - -It was after eight o’clock when the Evanses arrived. Mrs. Evans was -genuinely affected at seeing Custer again, for she was as fond of -him as if he had been her own son. In Guy, Custer discovered a great -change. The boy that he had left had become suddenly a man, quiet and -reserved, with a shadow of sadness in his expression. His lesson had -been a hard one, Custer knew, and the price that he had had to pay for -it had left its indelible mark upon his sensitive character. - -Guy’s happiness at having Custer back again was overshadowed to some -extent by the shame that he must always feel when he looked into the -face of the man who had shouldered his guilt and taken the punishment -which should have been his. The true purpose of Pennington’s sacrifice -could never alter young Evans’s realization of the fact that the part -he had been forced to take had been that of a coward, a traitor, and a -cad. - -The first greetings over, Mrs. Evans asked Custer if he had seen Grace -before he left Los Angeles. - -“I saw her,” he said, “and she is not at all well. I think Guy should -go up there immediately, and try to bring her back. I meant to speak to -him about it this evening.” - -“She is not seriously ill?” exclaimed Mrs. Evans. - -“I cannot say,” replied Custer. “I doubt if she is seriously ill in a -physical sense, but she is not well. I could see that. She has changed -a great deal. I think you should lose no time, Guy,” he added, turning -to Grace’s brother, “in going to Los Angeles and getting her. She has -been gone almost a year. It is time she knew whether her dreams are -to come true or not. From what I saw of her, I doubt if they have -materialized.” - -“I will go to-morrow,” said young Evans. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - - -The six months that had just passed had been months of indecision and -sadness for Shannon Burke. Constantly moved by a conviction that she -should leave the vicinity of Ganado and the Penningtons, she was held -there by a force that she had not the power to overcome. - -Never before since she had left her mother’s home in the Middle West -had she experienced the peace and content and happiness that her -little orchard on the highway imparted to her life. The friendship of -the Penningtons had meant more to her than anything that had hitherto -entered her life; and to be near them, even if she saw them but seldom, -constituted a constant bulwark against the assaults of her old enemy, -which still occasionally assailed the ramparts of her will. - -After the departure of Custer she had conscientiously observed what she -considered to be his wishes as expressed in his reference comparing her -with the girl friend of Cousin William, whom he had practically ordered -out of the house. She had as far as possible avoided Eva’s society; and -though contemplation of the cause of this avoidance filled her with -humiliation, and with a sense of the injustice of all that it implied, -she nevertheless felt it a duty to the man she loved to respect his -every wish, however indirectly suggested. - -That she might put herself in Eva’s way as seldom as possible, Shannon -had formed the habit of riding at those hours at which the Penningtons -were not accustomed to ride. The habit of solitude grew upon her, and -she loved the loneliness of the hills. They never oppressed her--she -never feared them. They drew her to them and soothed her as a mother -might have done. There she forgot her sorrows, and hope was stimulated -to new life. - -Especially when the old craving seized her did she long for the hills, -and it was because of this that she first rode at night--on a night -of brilliant moonlight that imparted to familiar scenes the weird -beauties of a strange world. The experience was unique. It assumed -the proportions of an adventure, and it lured her to other similar -excursions. - -Even the Senator felt the spell of enchantment. He stepped daintily -with uppricked ears and arched neck, peering nervously into the depth -of each shadowy bush. He leaped suddenly aside at the movement of a -leaf, or halted, trembling and snorting, at the moon-bathed outlines of -some jutting rock that he had passed a hundred times, unmoved, by day. - -The moonlight rides led Shannon to others on moonless nights, so that -she was often in the saddle when the valley slept. She invariably -followed the same trail on these occasions, with the result that -both she and the Senator knew every foot of it so well that they had -traversed it beneath the blackness of heavy clouds, or when low fogs -obliterated all but the nearest objects. - -Never, in the hills, could her mind dwell upon depressing thoughts. -Only cheerful reflections were her companions of those hours of -solitude. She thought of the love that had come into her life, of the -beauty of it, and of all that it had done to make life more worth the -living; of the Penningtons and the example of red-blooded cleanliness -that they set--decency without prudery; of her little orchard and the -saving problems it had brought to occupy her mind and hands; of her -horse and her horsemanship, two never-failing sources of companionship -and pleasure which the Penningtons had taught her to love and enjoy. - -On the morning after Custer’s return, Guy started early for Los -Angeles, while Custer--Shannon not having joined them on their morning -ride--resaddled the Apache after breakfast and rode down to her -bungalow. He both longed to see her and dreaded the meeting; for, -regardless of Grace’s attitude and of the repulse she had given him, -his honor bound him to her. Loyalty to the girl had been engendered by -long years of association, during which friendship had grown into love -by so gradual a process that it seemed to each of them that there had -never been a time when they had not loved. Such attachments, formed in -the heart of youth, hallowed by time, and fortified by the pride and -honor of inherited chivalry, become a part of the characters of their -possessors, and as difficult to uproot as those other habits of thought -and action which differentiate one individual from another. - -Custer had realized, in that brief interview of the day before, that -Grace was not herself. What was the cause of her change he could -not guess, since he was entirely unacquainted with the symptoms of -narcotics. Even had a suspicion of the truth entered his mind, he would -have discarded it as a vile slander upon the girl, as he had rejected -the involuntary suggestion that she might have been drinking. His -position was distressing for a man to whom honor was a fetish, since -he knew that he still loved Grace, while at the same time realizing a -still greater love for Shannon. - -She saw him coming and came down the driveway to meet him, her face -radiant with the joy of his return, and with that expression of love -that is always patent to all but the object of its concern. - -“Oh, Custer!” she cried. “I am so glad that you are home again! It has -seemed years and years, rather than months, to all of us.” - -“I am glad to be home, Shannon. I have missed you, too. I have missed -you all--everything--the hills, the valley, every horse and cow and -little pig, the clean air, the smell of flowers and sage--all that is -Ganado.” - -“You like it better than the city?” - -“I shall never long for the city again,” he said. “Cities are -wonderful, of course, with their great buildings, their parks and -boulevards, their fine residences, their lawns and gardens. The things -that men have accomplished there fill a fellow with admiration; but how -pitiful they really are compared with the magnificence that is ours!” -He turned and pointed toward the mountains. “Just think of those hills, -Shannon, and the infinite, unthinkable power that uplifted such mighty -monuments. Think of the countless ages that they have endured, and then -compare them with the puny efforts of man. Compare the range of vision -of the city dweller with ours. He can see across the street, and to the -top of some tall building, which may look imposing; but place it beside -one of our hills, and see what becomes of it. Place it in a ravine in -the high Sierras, and you would have difficulty in finding it; and -you cannot even think of it in connection with a mountain fifteen or -twenty thousand feet in height. And yet the city man patronizes us -country people, deploring the necessity that compels us to pursue our -circumscribed existence.” - -“Pity him,” laughed Shannon. “He is as narrow as his streets. His -ideals can reach no higher than the pall of smoke that hangs over the -roofs of his buildings. I am so glad, Custer, that you have given up -the idea of leaving the country for the city!” - -“I never really intended to,” he replied. “I couldn’t have left, on -father’s account; but now I can remain on my own as well as his, and -with a greater degree of contentment. You see that my recent experience -was a blessing in disguise.” - -“I am glad if some good came out of it; but it was a wicked injustice, -and there were others as innocent as you who suffered fully as -much--Eva especially.” - -“I know,” he said. “She has been very lonely since I left, with Grace -away, too; and they tell me that you have constantly avoided them. Why? -I cannot understand it.” - -He had dismounted and tied the Apache, and they were walking toward -the porch. She stopped, and turned to look Custer squarely in the eyes. - -“How could I have done otherwise?” she asked. - -“I do not understand,” he replied. - -She could not hold her eyes to his as she explained, but looked down, -her expression changing from happiness to one of shame and sadness. - -“You forget that girl, the friend of Cousin William?” she asked. - -“Oh, Shannon!” he cried, laying a hand impulsively upon her arm. “I -told you that I wouldn’t say that to you. I didn’t want you to stay -away. I have implicit confidence in you.” - -“No,” she contradicted him. “In your heart you thought it, and perhaps -you were right.” - -“No,” he insisted. “Please don’t stay away--promise me that you will -not! You have hurt them all, and they are all so fond of you!” - -“I am sorry, Custer. I would not hurt them. I love them all; but I -thought I was doing the thing that you wished. There was so much that -you did not understand--that you can never understand--and you were -away where you couldn’t know what was going on; so it seemed disloyal -to do the thing I thought you would rather I didn’t do.” - -“It’s all over now,” he said. “Let’s start over again, forgetting all -that has happened in the last six months and a half.” - -Again, as his hand lay upon her arm, he was seized with an almost -uncontrollable desire to crush her to him. Two things deterred him--his -loyalty to Grace, and the belief that his love would be unwelcome to -Shannon. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - - -Guy Evans swept over the broad, smooth highway at a rate that would -have won him ten days in the jail at Santa Ana had his course led him -through that village. The impression that Custer’s words had implanted -in his mind was that Grace was ill, for Pennington had not gone into -the details of his unhappy interview with the girl, choosing to leave -to her brother a realization of her changed condition, which would have -been incredible to him even from the lips of so trusted a friend as -Custer. - -And so it was that when he approached the bungalow on Circle Terrace, -and saw a coupé standing at the curb, he guessed at what it portended; -for though there were doubtless hundreds of similar cars in the city, -there was that about this one which suggested the profession of its -owner. As Guy hurried up the walk to the front door, he was as positive -that he would find Grace ill and a doctor in attendance, as if some one -had already told him so. - -There was no response to his ring, and as the inner door was open he -entered. A door on the opposite side of the living room was ajar. As -Guy approached it, a man appeared in the doorway, and beyond him the -visitor could see Grace lying, very white and still, upon a bed. - -“Who are you--this woman’s husband?” demanded the man in curt tones. - -“I am her brother. What is the matter? Is she very ill?” - -“Did you know of her condition?” - -“I heard last night that she was not well, and I hurried up here. I -live in the country. Who are you? What has happened? She is not--my -God, she is not----” - -“Not yet. Perhaps we can save her. I am a doctor. I was called by a -Japanese, who said that he was a servant here. He must have left after -he called me, for I have not seen him. Her condition is serious, and -requires an immediate operation--an operation of such a nature that I -must learn the name of her own physician and have him present. Where is -her husband?” - -“Husband! My sister is not----” Guy ceased speaking, and went suddenly -white. “My God, doctor, you don’t mean that she--that my sister--oh, -no, not that!” - -He seized the other’s arm beseechingly. The doctor laid his hand upon -the younger man’s shoulder. - -“She had a fall night before last, and an immediate operation is -imperative. Her condition is such that we cannot even take the risk of -moving her to a hospital. I have my instruments in my car, but I should -have help. Who is her doctor?” - -“I do not know.” - -“I’ll get some one. I have given her something to quiet her.” - -The doctor stepped to the telephone and gave a number. Evans entered -the room where his sister lay. She was moving about restlessly and -moaning, though it was evident that she was still unconscious. - -Changed! Guy wondered that he had known her at all, now that he -was closer to her. Her face was pinched and drawn. Her beauty was -gone--every vestige of it. She looked old and tired and haggard, and -there were terrible lines upon her face that stilled her brother’s -heart and brought the tears to his eyes. - -He heard the doctor summoning an assistant and directing him to bring -ether. Then he heard him go out of the house by the front door--to get -his instruments, doubtless. The brother knelt by the girl’s bed. - -“Grace!” he whispered, and threw an arm about her. - -Her lids fluttered, and she opened her eyes. - -“Guy!” - -She recognized him--she was conscious. - -“Who did this?” he demanded. “What is his name?” - -She shook her head. - -“What is the use?” she asked. “It is done.” - -“Tell me!” - -“You would kill him--and be punished. It would only make it -worse--for--you--and mother. Let it die with me!” - -“You are not going to die. Tell me, who is he? Do you love him?” - -“I hate him!” - -“How were you injured?” - -“He threw me--against--a table.” - -Her voice was growing weaker. Choking back tears of grief and anger, -the young man rose and stood beside her. - -“Grace, I command you to tell me!” - -His voice was low, but it was vibrant with power and authority. The -girl tried to speak. Her lips moved, but she uttered no sound. Guy -thought that she was dying, and taking her secret to the grave. - -Her eyes moved to something beyond the foot of the bed, back to his, -and back again to whatever she had been looking at, as if she sought to -direct his attention to something in that part of the room. He followed -the direction of her gaze. There was a dressing table there, and on it -a photograph of a man in a silver frame. Guy stepped to the table and -picked up the picture. - -“This is he?” - -His eyes demanded an answer. Her lips moved soundlessly, and weakly she -nodded an affirmative. - -“What is his name?” - -She was too weak to answer him. She gasped, and her breath came -flutteringly. The brother threw himself upon his knees beside the bed, -and took her in his arms. His tears mingled with his kisses on her -cheek. The doctor came then and drew him away. - -“She is dead!” said the boy, turning away and covering his face with -his hands. - -“No,” said the doctor, after a brief examination. “She is not dead. Get -into the kitchen, and get some water to boiling. I’ll be getting things -ready in here. Another doctor will be here in a few minutes.” - -Glad of something to do, just to help, Guy hastened into the little -kitchen. He found a kettle and a large pan, and put water in them to -boil. - -A moment later the doctor came in. He had removed his coat and vest and -rolled up his sleeves. He placed his instruments in the pan of water on -the stove, and then he went to the sink and washed his hands. While he -scrubbed, he talked. He was an efficient-looking, businesslike person, -and he inspired Guy with confidence and hope. - -“She has a fighting chance,” he said. “I’ve seen worse cases pull -through. She’s had a bad time, though. She must have been lying here -for pretty close to twenty-four hours without any attention. I found -her fully dressed on her bed--fully dressed except for what clothes -she’d torn off in her pain. If some one had called a doctor yesterday -at this time, it might have been all right. It may be all right even -now. We’ll do the best we can.” - -The bell rang. - -“That’s the doctor. Let him in, please.” - -Guy went to the door and admitted the second physician, who removed -his coat and vest and went directly to the kitchen. The first doctor -was entering the room where Grace lay. He turned and spoke to his -colleague, greeting him; then he disappeared within the adjoining room. -The second doctor busied himself about the sink, sterilizing his hands. -Guy lighted another burner and put on another vessel with water in it. - -A moment later the first doctor returned to the kitchen. - -“It will not be necessary to operate, doctor,” he said. “We were too -late!” - -His tone and manner were still very businesslike and efficient, but -there was an expression of compassion in his eyes as he crossed the -room and put his arm about Guy’s shoulders. - -“Come into the other room, my boy. I want to talk to you,” he said. - -Guy, dry-eyed, and walking almost as one in a trance, accompanied him -to the little living room. - -“You have had a hard blow,” said the doctor. “What I am going to tell -you may make it harder; but if she had been my sister I should have -wanted to know about it. She is better off. The chances are that she -didn’t want to live. She certainly made no fight for life--not since I -was called.” - -“Why should she want to die?” Guy asked dully. “We would have forgiven -her. No one would ever have known about it but me.” - -“There was something else--she was a drug addict. That was probably the -reason why she didn’t want to live. The morphine I had to give her to -quiet her would have killed three ordinary men.” - -And so Guy Evans came to know the terrible fate that had robbed his -sister of her dreams, of her ambition, and finally of her life. He -placed the full responsibility upon the man whose picture had stood in -its silver frame upon the girl’s dressing table. As he knelt beside the -dead girl, he swore to search until he had learned the identity of that -man, and found him, and forced from him the only expiation that could -satisfy the honor of a brother. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - - -The death of Grace had, of course, its naturally depressing effect -upon the circle of relatives and friends at Ganado; but her absence of -more than a year, the infrequency of her letters, and the fact that -they had already come to feel that she was lost to them, mitigated -to some degree the keenness of their grief and lessened its outward -manifestations. Her pitiful end could not seriously interrupt the -tenor of their lives, which had long since grown over the wound of her -departure, as a tree’s growth rolls over the hurt of a severed limb, -leaving only a scar as a reminder of its loss. - -Mrs. Evans, Guy and Custer suffered more than the others--Mrs. Evans -because of the natural instincts of motherhood, and Custer from a sense -of loss that seemed to have uprooted and torn away a part of his being, -even though he realized that his love for Grace had been of a different -sort from his hopeless passion for Shannon Burke. It was Guy who -suffered most, for hugged to his breast was the gnawing secret of the -truth of his sister’s life and death. He had told them that Grace had -died of pneumonia, and they had not gone behind his assertion to search -the records for the truth. - -Locked in his desk was the silver frame and the picture of the man -whose identity he had been unable to discover. The bungalow had been -leased in Grace’s name. The Japanese servant had disappeared, and Guy -had been unable to obtain any trace of him. The dead girl had had no -friends in the neighborhood, and there was no one who could tell him -anything that might lead to the discovery of the man he sought. - -He did not, however, give up his search. He went often to Hollywood, -where he haunted public places and the entrances to studios, in the -hope that some day he would find the man he sought; but as the passing -months brought no success, and the duties of his ranch and his literary -work demanded more and more of his time, he was gradually compelled -to push the furtherance of his vengeance into the background, though -without any lessening of his determination to compass it eventually. - -To Custer, the direct effect of Grace’s death was to revive the habit -of drinking more than was good for him--a habit from which he had -drifted away during the past year. That it had ever been a habit he -would, of course, have been the last to admit. He was one of those men -who could drink, or leave it alone. The world is full of them, and so -are the cemeteries. - -Custer avoided Shannon when he could do so without seeming unfriendly. -Quite unreasonably, he felt that his love for Shannon was an indication -of disloyalty to Grace. The latter’s dismissal of him he had never -taken as a serious avowal of her heart. He had realized that the woman -who had spoken so bitterly had not been the girl he had loved, and -whose avowals of love he had listened to. Nor had she been the girl -upon whose sad, tired face he had looked for the last time in the -darkened living room of the Evans home, for then death had softened the -hard lines of dissipation, revealing again, in chastened melancholy, -the soul that sin had disguised but not destroyed. - -Shannon recognized the change in Custer. She attributed it to his -grief, and to his increased drinking, which she had sensed almost -immediately, as love does sense the slightest change in its object, -however little apparent to another. She did not realize that she was -purposely avoiding her. She was more than ever with Eva now, for Guy, -having settled down to the serious occupations of man’s estate, no -longer had so much leisure to devote to play. - -She still occasionally rode at night, for the daytime rides with -Custer were less frequent now. Much of his time was occupied closer -in around the ranch, with the conditioning of the show herds for -the coming fall--an activity which gave him a plausible excuse for -foregoing his rides with Shannon. The previous year they had been -compelled to cancel their entries because of Custer’s imprisonment, -since the colonel would not make the circuit of the shows himself, -and did not care to trust the herds to any one but his son. Now the -Morgans, the Percherons, the Herefords, and the Berkshires that were to -uphold the fame of Ganado were the center of arduous and painstaking -fitting and grooming, as the time approached when the finishing touches -were to be put upon glossy coat and polished horn and hoof. - -May, June, and July had come and gone--it was August again. Guy’s -futile visits to Los Angeles were now infrequent. The life of Ganado -had again assumed the cheerfulness of the past. The heat of summer had -brought the swimming pool into renewed demand, and the cool evenings -saved the ballroom from desertion. The youth of the foothills and -valley, reënforced by weekend visitors from the city, filled the old -house with laughter and happiness. Shannon was always of these parties, -for they would not let her remain away. - -It was upon the occasion of one of them, early in August, that Eva -announced the date of her wedding to Guy. - -“The 2nd of September,” she told them. “It comes on a Saturday. We’re -going to motor to----” - -“Hold on!” cautioned Guy. “That’s a secret!” - -“And when we come back we’re going to start building on Hill Thirteen.” - -“That’s a cow pasture,” said Custer. - -“Well, it won’t be one any more. You must find another cow pasture.” - -“Certainly, little one,” replied her brother. “We’ll bring the cows up -here in the ballroom. With five thousand acres to pick from, you can’t -find a bungalow site anywhere except in the best dairy cow pasture on -Ganado!” - -“With five thousand acres to pick from, I suppose you can’t find a cow -pasture anywhere but on the best bungalow site in southern California! -You radiant brother! You wouldn’t have your little sister living in the -hog pasture, now would you?” - -“Heavens, no! Those nine children you aspire to would annoy the brood -sows.” - -“You’re hideous!” - -“Put on a fox trot, some one,” cried Guy. “Dance with your sister, Cus, -and you’ll let her build bungalows all over Ganado. No one can refuse -her anything when they dance with her.” - -“I’ll say they can’t,” agreed Custer. “Was that how she lured you to -your undoing, Guy?” - -“What a dapper little idea!” exclaimed Eva. - -Guy danced that dance with Mrs. Pennington, and the colonel took out -Shannon. As they moved over the smooth floor with the easy dignity that -good dancers can impart to the fox trot, the girl’s eyes were often on -the brother and sister dancing and laughing together. - -“How wonderful they are!” she said. - -“Who?” inquired the colonel. - -“Custer and Eva. Theirs is such a wonderful relationship between -brother and sister--the way it ought to be, but very seldom is.” - -“Oh, I don’t know that it’s unique,” replied the colonel. “Guy and -Grace were that way, and so were my father’s children. Possibly it’s -because we were all raised in the country, where children are more -dependent upon their sisters and brothers for companionship than -children of the city. We all get better acquainted in the country, and -we have to learn to find the best that is in each of us, for we haven’t -the choice of companions here that a city, with its thousands, affords.” - -“I don’t know,” said Shannon. “Perhaps that is it; but anyway it is -lovely--really _lovely_, for they are almost like two lovers. At -first, when I heard them teasing each other, I used to think there -might be some bitterness in their thrusts; but when I came to know you -all better, I realized that your affection was so perfect that there -could never be any misunderstanding among you.” - -“That attitude is not peculiar to the Penningtons,” replied the -colonel. “I know, for instance, of one who so perfectly harmonized with -their lives and ideals that in less than a year she became practically -one of them.” - -He was smiling down into Shannon’s upturned face. - -“I know--you mean me,” she said. “It is awfully nice of you, and it -makes me very proud to hear you say so, for I have really tried to be -like you. If I have succeeded the least bit, I am so happy!” - -“I don’t know that you have succeeded in being like us,” he laughed; -“but you have certainly succeeded in being liked _by_ us. Why, do you -know, Shannon, I believe Mrs. Pennington and I discuss you and plan for -you fully as much as we do the children. It is almost as if you were -our other daughter.” - -The tears came to her eyes. - -“I am so happy!” she said again. - -It was later in the evening, after a dance, that she and Custer walked -out on the driveway along the north side of the ballroom, and stood -looking out over the moon-enchanted valley--a vista of loveliness -glimpsed between masses of feathery foliage in an opening through the -trees on the hillside just below them. They looked out across the -acacias and cedars of the lower hill toward the lights of a little -village twinkling between two dome-like hills at the upper end of the -valley. It was an unusually warm evening, almost too warm to dance. - -“I think we’d get a little of the ocean breeze,” said Custer, “if -we were on the other side of the hill. Let’s walk over to the water -gardens. There is usually a breeze there, but the building cuts us off -from it here.” - -Side by side, in silence, they walked around the front of the building -and along the south drive to the steps leading down through the -water gardens to the stables. The steps were narrow and Custer went -ahead--which is always the custom of men in countries where there are -rattlesnakes. - -As Shannon stepped from the cement steps to the gravel walk above the -first pool, her foot came down upon a round stone, turning her ankle -and throwing her against Custer. For support she grasped his arm. Upon -such insignificant trifles may the fate of lives depend. It might have -been a lizard, a toad, a mouse, or even a rattlesnake that precipitated -the moment which, for countless eons, creation had been preparing; but -it was none of these. It was just a little round pebble--and it threw -Shannon Burke against Custer Pennington, causing her to seize his arm. -He felt the contact of those fingers, and the warmth of her body, and -her cheek near his shoulder. He threw an arm about her to support her. - -Almost instantly she had regained her footing. Laughingly she drew away. - -“I stepped on a stone,” she said in explanation; “but I didn’t hurt my -ankle.” - -But still he kept his arm about her. At first Shannon did not -understand, and, supposing that he still thought her unable to stand -alone, she again explained that she was unhurt. - -He stood looking down into her face, which was turned up to his. The -moon, almost full, revealed her features as clearly as sunlight--how -beautiful they were, and how close. She had not yet fully realized the -significance of his attitude when he suddenly threw his other arm about -her and crushed her to him; and then, before she could prevent, he had -bent his lips to hers and kissed her full upon the mouth. - -With a startled cry she pushed him away. - -“Custer!” she said. “What have you done? This is not like you. I do not -understand!” - -She was really terrified--terrified at the thought that he might have -kissed her without love--terrified that he might have kissed her _with_ -love. She did not know which would be the greater catastrophe. - -“I couldn’t help it, Shannon,” he said. “Blame the pebble, blame the -moonlight, blame me--it won’t make any difference. I couldn’t help it; -that is all there is to it. I’ve fought against it for months. I knew -you didn’t love me; but, oh, Shannon, I love you! I had to tell you.” - -He loved her! He had loved her for months! Oh, the horror of it! Her -little dream of happiness was shattered. No longer could they go on as -they had. There would always be this between them--the knowledge of his -love; and he would learn of her love for him, for she would not lie -to him if he asked her. Then she would either have to explain or to -go away--to explain those hideous months with Crumb. Custer would not -believe the truth--no man would believe the truth--that she had come -through them undefiled. She herself would not believe it of another -woman, and she was too sophisticated to hope that the man who loved her -would believe it of her. - -He had not let her go. They still stood there--his arms about her. - -“Please don’t be angry, Shannon,” he begged. “You may not want my love, -but there’s no disgrace in it. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I -couldn’t help it, and I’m glad I did. I have that to remember as long -as I live. Please don’t be angry!” - -Angry! She wished to God that he would crush her to him again and kiss -her--kiss her--kiss like that now and forever. Why shouldn’t he? Why -shouldn’t she let him? What had she done to deserve eternal punishment? -There were countless wives less virtuous than she. Ah, if she could but -have the happiness of his love! - -She closed her eyes and turned away her head, and for just an instant -she dreamed her beautiful dream. Why not? Why not? Why not? There could -be no better wife than she, for there could be no greater love than -hers. - -He noticed that she no longer drew away. There had been no look of -anger in her eyes--only startled questioning; and her face was still so -near. Again his arms closed about her, and again his lips found hers. - -This time she did not deny him. She was only human--only a woman--and -her love, growing steadily in power for many months, had suddenly burst -forth in a consuming fire beneath his burning kisses. He felt her lips -move in a fluttering sob beneath his, and then her dear arms stole up -about his neck and pressed him closer in complete surrender. - -“Shannon! You love me?” - -“Ah, dear boy, always!” - -He drew her to the lower end of a pool, where a rustic seat stood half -concealed by the foliage of a drooping umbrella tree. There they sat -and asked each other the same questions that lovers have asked since -prehistoric man first invented speech, and that lovers will continue to -ask so long as speech exists upon earth; very important questions--by -far the most important questions in the world. - -They did not know how long they had sat there--to them it seemed but a -moment--when they heard voices calling their names from above. - -“Shannon! Custer! Where are you?” - -It was Eva calling. - -“I suppose we’ll have to go,” he said. “Just one more kiss!” - -He took a dozen; and then they rose and walked up the steps to the -south drive. - -“Shall I tell them?” he asked. - -“Not yet, please.” - -She was not sure that it would last. Such happiness was too sweet to -endure. - -Eva spied them. - -“Where in the world have you two been?” she demanded. “We’ve been -hunting all over for you, and shouting until I’m hoarse.” - -“We’ve been right down there by the upper pool, trying to cool off,” -replied Custer. “It’s too beastly hot to dance.” - -“You never thought so before,” said Eva suspiciously. “Do you know, I -believe you two have been off spooning! How perfectly gorgeristic!” - -“How perfectly nothing,” replied Custer. “Old people, like Shannon and -me, don’t spoon. That’s for you kids.” - -Eva came closer. - -“Shannon, you’d better go and straighten your hair before any one else -sees you.” She laughed and pinched the other’s arm. “I’d love it,” she -whispered in Shannon’s ear, “if it were true! You’ll tell me, won’t -you?” - -“If it ever comes true, dear”--Shannon returned the whisper--“you shall -be the first to know about it.” - -“Scrumptious! But say, I’ve got the divinest news--what do you think? -Popsy has known it all day and never mentioned it--forgot all about it, -he said, until just before he and mother trotted off to bed. Did you -ever hear of anything so outrageous? And now half the folks have gone -home, and I can’t tell ’em. Oh, it’s too spiffy for words! I’ve been -longing and longing for it for months and months and months, and now -it’s going to happen--really going to happen--actually going to happen -on Monday!” - -“For Heaven’s sake, little one, unwind, and get to the end of your -harrowing story. What’s going to happen?” - -“Why, the K. K. S. company is coming on Monday, and Wilson Crumb is -coming with them!” - -Shannon staggered almost as from the force of a physical blow. Wilson -Crumb coming! Coming to Ganado! Short indeed had been her sweet -happiness! - -“What’s the matter, Shannon?” asked Custer solicitously. - -The girl steadied herself quickly. - -“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, with a nervous laugh. “I just felt a -little dizzy for a moment.” - -“You had better go in the house and lie down,” he suggested. - -“No, I think I’ll go home, if you’ll drive me down, Custer. You know -ten o’clock is pretty late for us.” - -“It’s Saturday night,” said Eva. - -“But I don’t want to miss my ride in the morning. You’re all going, -aren’t you?” - -“I am,” said Custer. - -He noticed that she was very quiet as they drove down to her place, and -when they parted she clung to him as if she could not bear to let him -go. - -It was very wonderful--the miracle of this great love. As he drove back -home, he could not think of anything else. He was not egotistical, and -it seemed strange that from all the men she must have known Shannon had -kept her love for him. With Grace it had been different. Their love had -grown up with them from childhood. It had seemed no more remarkable -that Grace should love him than that Eva should love him, or that -he should love Grace; but Shannon had come to him out of a strange -world--a world full of men--where, with her beauty and her charm, she -must have been an object of admiration to many. Yet she had brought -her heart to him intact; for she had told him that she had never loved -another--and she had told him the truth. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - - -After Custer left her, Shannon entered the bungalow and sat for a long -time before the table on which stood a framed photograph of her mother. -Never before had she felt the need of loving counsel so sorely as now. -In almost any other emergency she could have gone to Mrs. Pennington, -but in this she dared not. She knew the pride of the Penningtons. She -realized the high altar upon which they placed the purity of their -women in the sacred temple of their love, and she knew that none but -the pure might enter. - -In her heart of hearts she knew that she had the right to stand there -beside his mother or his sister; but the pity of it was that she -could never prove that right, for who would believe her? Men had been -hanged upon circumstantial evidence less damning than that which might -be arrayed against her purity. No--if ever they should learn of her -association with Wilson Crumb, they would cast her out of their lives -as they would put a leper out of their home. - -Not even Custer’s love could survive such a blow to his honor and his -pride. She did not think the less of him because of that, for she was -wise enough in the ways of the world to know that pride and virtue are -oftentimes uncompromising, even to narrowness. - -Her only hope, therefore, lay in avoiding discovery by Wilson Crumb -during his stay at Ganado. Her love, and the weakness it had induced, -permitted her to accept the happiness from which an unkind fate had -hitherto debarred her, and to which even now her honor told her she had -no right. - -She wished that Custer had not loved her, and that she might have -continued to live the life that she had learned to love, where -she might be near him, and might constantly see him in the happy -consociation of friendship; but with his arms about her and his kisses -on her lips she had not had the strength to deny him, or to dissimulate -the great love which had ordered her very existence for many months. - -In the brief moments of bliss that had followed the avowal of his love, -she had permitted herself to drift without thought of the future; but -now that the sudden knowledge of the approaching arrival of Crumb had -startled her into recollection of the past and consideration of its -bearings upon the future, she realized only too poignantly that the -demands of honor required that sooner or later she herself must tell -Custer the whole sordid story of those hideous months in Hollywood. -There was no other way. She could not mate with a man unless she could -match her honor with his. There was no alternative other than to go -away forever. - -It was midnight before she arose and went to her room. She went -deliberately to a drawer which she kept locked, and, finding the key, -she opened it. From it she took the little black case, and, turning -back the cover, she revealed the phials, the needles, and the tiny -syringe that had played so sinister a part in her past. - -What she was doing to-night she had done so often in the past year that -it had almost assumed the proportions of a rite. It had been her wont -to parade her tempters before her, that she might have the satisfaction -of deriding them, and of proving the strength of the new will that her -love for Custer Pennington had been so potent a factor in developing. -To-night she went a little further. She took a bit of cotton, and, -placing it in the bowl of a spoon, she dissolved some of the white -powder with the aid of a lighted match held beneath the spoon, and then -she drew the liquid into the syringe. - -Her nerves were overwrought and unstrung from the stress of the -conflicting emotions they had endured that evening and the risk she -took was greater than she guessed. And yet, as she looked at the -syringe, and realized that its contents held surcease of sorrow, that -it held quiet and rest and peace, she felt only repugnance toward it. -Not even remotely did she consider the possibility of resorting again -to the false happiness of morphine. - -She knew now that she was freer from its temptations than one who had -never used it; but she felt that after to-night, with the avowal of -Pennington’s love still in her ears, she must no longer keep in her -possession a thing so diametrically opposed to the cleanliness of his -life and his character. For months she had retained it as a part of the -system she had conceived for ridding herself of its power. Without it -she might never have known whether she could withstand the temptation -of its presence; but now she had finished with it. She needed it no -longer. - -With almost fanatical savagery she destroyed it, crushing the glass -phials and the syringe beneath her heel and tearing the little case -to shreds. Then, gathering up the fragments, she carried them to the -fireplace in the living room and burned them. - - * * * * * - -On the following day the horses and several loads of properties from -the K. K. S. studio arrived at Ganado, and the men who accompanied -them pitched their camp well up in Jackknife Cañon. Eva was very much -excited, and spent much of her time on horseback, watching their -preparations. She tried to get Shannon to accompany her, but the latter -found various excuses to remain away, being fearful that even though -Crumb had not yet arrived, there might be other employees of the studio -who would recognize her. - -Crumb and the rest of the company came in the afternoon, although -they had not been expected until the following day. Eva, who had -made Custer ride up again with her in the afternoon, recalled to the -actor-director the occasion upon which she had met him, and they had -danced together, some year and a half before. - -As soon as he met her, Crumb was struck by her beauty, youth, and -freshness. He saw in her a possible means of relieving the tedium of -his several weeks’ enforced absence from Hollywood--though in the big -brother he realized a possible obstacle, unless he were able to carry -on his purposed gallantries clandestinely. - -In the course of conversation he took occasion to remark that Eva -ought to photograph well. “I’ll let them take a hundred feet of you,” -he said, “some day when you’re up here while we’re working. We might -discover an unsung Pickford up here among the hills!” - -“She will remain unsung, then,” said Custer curtly. “My sister has no -desire to go into pictures.” - -“How do you know I haven’t?” asked Eva. - -“After Grace?” he asked significantly. - -She turned to Crumb. - -“I’m afraid I wouldn’t make much of an actress,” she said; “but it -would be perfectly radiant to see myself in pictures just once!” - -“Good!” he replied. “We’ll get you all right some day that you’re up -here. I promise your brother that I won’t try to persuade you into -pictures.” - -“I hope not,” said Custer. - -As he and Eva rode back toward the house, he turned to the girl. - -“I don’t like that fellow Crumb,” he said. - -“Why?” she asked. - -“It’s hard to say. He just rubs me the wrong way; but I’d bet almost -anything that he’s a cad.” - -“Oh, I think he’s perfectly divine!” said Eva with her usual enthusiasm. - -Custer grunted. - -“The trouble with you,” announced Eva, “is that you’re jealous of him -because he’s an actor. That’s just like you men!” - -Custer laughed. - -“Maybe you’re right,” he said; “but I don’t like him, and I hope you’ll -never go up there alone.” - -“Well, I’m going to see them take pictures,” replied the girl; “and if -I can’t get any one to go with me, I’m going alone.” - -“I don’t like the way he looked at you, Eva.” - -“You’re perfectly silly! He didn’t look at me any differently than any -other man does.” - -“I don’t know about that. I haven’t the same keen desire to punch the -head of every man I see looking at you as I had in his case.” - -“Oh, you’re prejudiced! I’ll bet anything he’s just perfectly lovely!” - -Next morning, finding no one with the leisure or inclination to ride -with her, Eva rode up again to the camp. They had already commenced -shooting. Although Crumb was busy, he courteously took the time to -explain the scene on which they were working, and many of the technical -details of picture making. He had a man hold her horse while she came -and squinted through the finder. In fact, he spent so much time with -her that he materially delayed the work of the morning. At the same -time the infatuation that had had its birth on the preceding day grew -to greater proportions in his diseased mind. - -He asked her to stay and lunch with them. When she insisted that -she must return home, he begged her to come again in the afternoon. -Although she would have been glad to do so, for she found the work that -they were doing novel and interesting, she declined his invitation, as -she already had made arrangements for the afternoon. - -He followed her to her horse, and walked beside her down the road a -short distance from the others. - -“If you can’t come down this afternoon,” he said, “possibly you can -come up this evening. We are going to take some night pictures. I -hadn’t intended inviting any one, because the work is going to be -rather difficult and dangerous, and an audience might distract the -attention of the actors; but if you think you could get away alone, I -should be very glad to have you come up for a few minutes about nine -o’clock. We shall be working in the same place. Don’t forget,” he -repeated, as she started to ride away, “that for this particular scene -I really ought not to have any audience at all; so if you come, please -don’t tell any one else about it.” - -“I’ll come,” she said. “It’s awfully good of you to ask me, and I won’t -tell a soul.” - -Crumb smiled as he turned back to his waiting company. - -Brought up in the atmosphere that had surrounded her since birth, -unacquainted with any but honorable men, and believing as she did that -all men are the chivalrous protectors of all women, Eva did not suspect -the guile that lay behind the director’s courteous manner and fair -words. She looked upon the coming nocturnal visit to the scene of their -work as nothing more than a harmless adventure; nor was there, from her -experience, any cause for apprehension, since the company comprised -some forty or fifty men and women who, like any one else, would protect -her from any harm that lay in their power to avert. - -Her conscience did not trouble her in the least, although she -regretted that she could not share her good fortune with the other -members of her family, and deplored the necessity of leaving the house -surreptitiously, like a thief in the night. Such things did not appeal -to Pennington standards; but Eva satisfied these qualms by promising -herself that she would tell them all about it at breakfast the next -morning. - -After lunch that day Custer went to his room, and, throwing himself on -his bed with a book, with the intention of reading for half an hour, -fell asleep. - -Shortly afterward Shannon Burke, feeling that there would be no danger -of meeting any of the K. K. S. people at the Pennington house, rode up -on the Senator to keep her appointment with Eva. As she tied her horse -upon the north side of the house, Wilson Crumb stopped his car opposite -the patio at the south drive. He had come up to see Colonel Pennington -for the purpose of arranging for the use of a number of the Ganado -Herefords in a scene on the following day. - -Not finding Eva in the family sitting room, Shannon passed through the -house and out into the patio, just as Wilson Crumb mounted the two -steps to the arcade. Before either realized the presence of the other -they were face to face, scarce a yard apart. - -Shannon went deathly white as she recognized the man beneath his -make-up, while Crumb stood speechless for a moment. - -“My God, Gaza. You!” he presently managed to exclaim. “What are you -doing here? Thank God I have found you at last!” - -“Don’t!” she begged. “Please don’t speak to me. I am living a decent -life here.” - -He laughed in a disagreeable manner. - -“Decent!” he scoffed. “Where you getting the snow? Who’s putting up for -it?” - -“I don’t use it any more,” she said. - -“The hell you don’t! You can’t put that over on me! Some other guy is -furnishing it. I know you--you can’t get along two hours without it. -I’m not going to stand for this. There isn’t any guy going to steal my -girl!” - -“Hush, Wilson!” she cautioned. “For God’s sake keep still! Some one -might hear you.” - -“I don’t give a damn who hears me. I’m here to tell the world that no -one is going to take my girl away from me. I’ve found you, and you’re -going back with me, do you understand?” - -She came very close to him, her eyes blazing wrathfully. - -“I’m not going back with you, Wilson Crumb,” she said. “If you tell, or -if you ever threaten me again in any way, I’ll kill you. I managed to -escape you, and I have found happiness at last, and no one shall take -it away from me!” - -“What about my happiness? You lived with me two years. I love you, and, -by God, I’m going to have you, if I have to----” - -A door slammed behind them, and they both turned to see Custer -Pennington standing in the arcade outside his door, looking at them. - -“I beg your pardon,” he said, his voice chilling. “Did I interrupt?” - -“This man is looking for some one, Custer,” said Shannon, and turned to -reënter the house. - -Confronted by a man, Crumb’s bravado had vanished. Intuitively he -guessed that he was looking at the man who had stolen Gaza from him; -but he was a very big young man, with broad shoulders and muscles that -his flannel shirt and riding breeches did not conceal. Crumb decided -that if he was going to have trouble with this man, it would be safer -to commence hostilities at a time when the other was not looking. - -“Yes,” he said. “I was looking for your father, Mr. Pennington.” - -“Father is not here. He has driven over to the village. What do you -want?” - -“I wanted to see if I could arrange for the use of some of your -Herefords to-morrow morning.” - -Pennington was leading the way toward Crumb’s car. - -“You can find out about that,” he said, “or anything else that you may -wish to know, from the assistant foreman, whom you will usually find up -at the other end, around the cabin. If he is in doubt about anything, -he will consult with us personally; so that it will not be necessary, -Mr. Crumb, for you to go to the trouble of coming to the house again.” - -Custer’s voice was level and low. It carried no suggestion of anger, -yet there was that about it which convinced Crumb that he was fortunate -in not having been kicked off the hill physically rather than -verbally--for kicked off he had been, and advised to stay off, into -the bargain. - -He wondered how much Pennington had overheard of his conversation with -Gaza. Shannon Burke, crouching in a big chair in the sitting room, was -wondering the same thing. - -As a matter of fact, Custer had overheard practically all of the -conversation. The noise of Crumb’s car had awakened him, but almost -immediately he had fallen into a doze, through which the spoken -words impinged upon his consciousness without any actual, immediate -realization of their meaning, of the identity of the speakers. The -moment that he became fully awake, and found that he was listening to a -conversation not intended for his ears, he had risen and gone into the -patio. - -When finally he came into the sitting room, where Shannon was, he made -no mention of the occurrence, except to say that the visitor had wanted -to see his father. It did not seem possible to Shannon that he could -have failed to overhear at least a part of their conversation, for they -were standing not more than a couple of yards from the open window of -his bedroom, and there was no other sound breaking the stillness of -the August noon. She was sure that he had heard, and yet his manner -indicated that he had not. - -She waited a moment to see if he would be the first to broach the -subject, but he did not. She determined to tell him then and there all -that she had to tell, freeing her soul and her conscience of their -burden, whatever the cost might be. - -She rose and came to where he was standing, and, placing a hand upon -his arm, looked up into his eyes. - -“Custer,” she said. “I have something to tell you. I ought to have -told you before, but I have been afraid. Since last night there is no -alternative but to tell you.” - -“You do not have to tell me anything that you do not want to tell me,” -he said. “My confidence in you is implicit. I could not both love and -distrust at the same time.” - -“I must tell you,” she said. “I only hope----” - -“Where in the world have you been, Shannon?” cried Eva, breaking -suddenly into the sitting room. “I have been away down to your place -looking for you. I thought you were going to play golf with me this -afternoon.” - -“That’s what I came up for,” said Shannon, turning toward her. - -“Well, come on, then! We’ll have to hurry, if we’re going to play -eighteen holes this afternoon.” - -Custer Pennington went to his room again after the girls had driven off -in the direction of the Country Club. He wondered what it had been that -Shannon wished to tell him. Round and round in his mind rang the words -of Wilson Crumb: - -“You lived with me two years--you lived with me two years--you lived -with me two years!” - -She had been going to explain that, he was sure; but she did not have -to explain it. The girl that he loved could have done no wrong. He -trusted her. He was sure of her. - -But what place had that soft-faced cad had in her life? It was -unthinkable that she had ever known him, much less that they had been -upon intimate terms. - -Custer went to his closet and rummaged around for a bottle. It had -been more than two weeks since he had taken a drink. The return to his -old intimacy with Shannon, and the frequency with which he now saw her -had again weaned him from his habit; but to-day he felt the need of a -drink--of a big drink, stiff and neat. - -He swallowed the raw liquor as if it had been so much water. He wished -now that he had punched Crumb’s head when he had had the chance. The -cur! He had spoken to Shannon as if she were a common woman of the -streets--Shannon Burke--Custer’s Shannon! - -Feeling no reaction to the first drink, he took another. - -“I’d like to get my fingers on his throat!” he thought. “Before I -choked the life out of him, I’d drag him up here and make him kiss the -ground at her feet!” - -But no, he could not do that. Others would see it, and there would -have to be explanations; and how could he explain it without casting -reflections on Shannon? - -For hours he sat there in his room, nursing his anger, his jealousy, -and his grief; and all the time he drank and drank again. He went to -his closet, got his belt and holster, and from his dresser drawer took -a big, ugly-looking forty-five--a Colt’s automatic. For a moment he -stood holding it in his hand, looking at it. Almost caressingly he -handled it, and then he slipped it into the holster at his hip, put on -his hat, and started for the door. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - - -Custer’s gait showed no indication of the amount that he had drunk. -He was a Pennington of Virginia, and he could carry his liquor like -a gentleman. Even though he was aflame with the heat of vengeance, -his movements were slow and deliberate. At the door he paused, and, -turning, retraced his steps to the table where stood the bottle and the -glass. - -The bottle was empty. He went to the closet and got another. Again he -drank, and as he stood there by the table he commenced to plan again. - -There must be some reason for the thing he contemplated. There must be -some reason so logical that the discovery of his act could in no way -reflect upon Shannon Burke, or draw her name into the publicity which -must ensue. It required time to think out a feasible plan, and time -gave opportunity for additional drinks. - -The colonel and Mrs. Pennington were away somewhere down in the valley. -Eva and Shannon were the first to return. In passing along the arcade -by Custer’s open window, Eva saw him lying on his bed. She called to -him, but he did not answer. Shannon was at her side. - -“What in the world do you suppose is the matter with Custer?” asked Eva. - -They saw that he was fully dressed. His hat had fallen forward over -his eyes. The two girls entered the room, when they could not arouse -him by calling him from the outside. The two bottles and the glass -upon the table told their own story. What they could not tell Shannon -guessed--he had overheard the conversation between Wilson Crumb and -herself. - -Eva removed the bottles and the glass to the closet. - -“Poor Cus!” she said. “I never saw him like this before. I wonder what -could have happened! What had we better do?” - -“Pull down the shades by his bed,” said Shannon, and this she did -herself without waiting for Eva. “No one can see him from the patio -now. It will be just as well to leave him alone, I think, Eva. He will -probably be all right when he wakes up.” - -They went out of the room, closing the door after them, and a little -later Shannon mounted the Senator and rode away toward home. - -Her thoughts were bitter. Wherever Crumb went he brought misery. -Whatever he touched he defiled. She wished that he was dead. God, how -she wished it! She could have killed him with her own hands for the -grief that he had brought to Custer Pennington. - -She did not care so much about herself. She was used to suffering -because of Wilson Crumb; but that he should bring his foulness into -the purity of Ganado was unthinkable. Her brief happiness was over. No -indeed was there nothing more in life for her. She was not easily moved -to tears, but that night she was still sobbing when she fell asleep. - -When the colonel and Mrs. Pennington arrived at the ranch house, just -before dinner, Eva told them that Custer was not feeling well, and that -he had lain down to sleep and had asked not to be disturbed. They did -not go to his room at all, and at about half past eight they retired -for the night. - -Eva was very much excited. She had never before experienced the thrill -of such an adventure as she was about to embark upon. As the time -approached, she became more and more perturbed. The realization grew -upon her that what she was doing might seem highly objectionable to -her family; but as her innocent heart held no suggestion of evil, she -considered that her only wrong was the infraction of those unwritten -laws of well regulated homes which forbid their daughters going out -alone at night. She would tell about it in the morning, and wheedle her -father into forgiveness. - -Quickly she changed into riding clothes. Leaving her room, she -noiselessly passed through the living room and the east wing to the -kitchen, and from there to the basement, from which a tunnel led -beneath the driveway and opened on the hillside above the upper pool of -the water gardens. To get her horse and saddle him required but a few -moments, for the moon was full and the night almost like day. - -Her heart was beating with excitement as she rode up the cañon toward -the big sycamore that stood at the junction of Sycamore Cañon and El -Camino Largo, where Crumb had told her the night scenes would be taken. -She walked her horse past the bunk house, lest some of the men might -hear her; but when she was through the east gate, beyond the old goat -corral, she broke into a canter. - -As she passed the mouth of Jackknife she glanced up the cañon toward -the site of the K. K. S. camp, but she could not see any lights, as -the camp was fairly well hidden from the main cañon by trees. As she -approached El Camino Largo, she saw that all was darkness. There was no -sign of the artificial lights she imagined they would use for shooting -night scenes, nor was there anything to indicate the presence of the -actors. - -She continued on, however, until presently she saw the outlines of a -car beneath the big sycamore. A man stepped out and hailed her. - -“Is that you, Miss Pennington?” he asked. - -“Yes,” she said. “Aren’t you going to take the pictures to-night?” - -She rode up quite close to him. It was Crumb. - -“I am just waiting for the others. Won’t you dismount?” - -As she swung from the saddle, he led her horse to his car and tied him -to the spare tire in the rear; then he returned to the girl. As they -talked, he adroitly turned the subject of their conversation toward -the possibilities for fame and fortune which lay in pictures for a -beautiful and talented girl. - -Long practice had made Wilson Crumb an adept in his evil arts. -Ordinarily he worked very slowly, considering that weeks, or even -months, were not ill spent if they led toward the consummation of his -desires; but in this instance he realized that he must work quickly. He -must take the girl by storm or not at all. - -So unsophisticated was Eva, and so innocent, that she did not realize -from his conversation what would have been palpable to one more worldly -wise; and because she did not repulse him, Crumb thought that she was -not averse to his advances. It was not until he seized her and tried -to kiss her that she awoke to a realization of her danger, and of the -position in which her silly credulity had placed her. - -She carried a quirt in her hand, and she was a Pennington. What matter -that she was but a slender girl? The honor and the courage of a -Pennington were hers. - -“How dare you?” she cried, attempting to jerk away. - -When he would have persisted, she raised the heavy quirt and struck him -across the face. - -“My father shall hear of this, and so shall the man I am to marry--Mr. -Evans.” - -“Go slow!” he growled angrily. “Be careful what you tell! Remember that -you came up here alone at night to meet a man you have known only a -day. How will you square that with your assertions of virtue, eh? And -as for Evans--yes, one of your men told me to-day that you and he were -going to be married--as for him, the less you drag him into this the -better it’ll be for Evans, and you, too!” - -She was walking toward her horse. She wheeled suddenly toward him. - -“Had I been armed, I would have killed you,” she said. “Any Pennington -would kill you for what you attempted. My father or my brother will -kill you if you are here to-morrow, for I shall tell them what you -have done. You had better leave to-night. I am advising you for their -sakes--not for yours.” - -He followed her then, and, when she mounted, he seized her reins. - -“Not so damned fast, young lady! I’ve got something to say about this. -You’ll keep your mouth shut, or I’ll send Evans to the pen, where he -belongs!” - -“Get out of my way!” she commanded, and put her spurs to her mount. - -The horse leaped forward, but Crumb clung to the reins, checking him. -Then she struck Crumb again; but he managed to seize the quirt and hold -it. - -“Now listen to me,” he said. “If you tell what happened here to-night, -I’ll tell what I know about Evans, and he’ll go to the pen as sure as -you’re a silly little fool!” - -“You know nothing about Mr. Evans. You don’t even know him.” - -“Listen--I’ll tell you what I know. I know that Evans let your brother, -who was innocent, go to the pen for the thing that Evans was guilty of.” - -The girl shrank back. - -“You lie!” she cried. - -“No, I don’t lie, either. I’m telling you the truth, and I can bring -plenty of witnesses to prove what I say. It was young Evans who handled -all that stolen booze and sold it to some guy from L. A. It was young -Evans who got the money. He was getting rich on it till your brother -butted in and crabbed his game, and then it was young Evans who kept -still and let an innocent man do time for him. That’s the kind of -fellow you’re going to marry. If you want the whole world to know about -it, you just tell your father or your brother anything about me!” - -He saw the girl sink down in her saddle, her head and shoulders -drooping like some lovely flower in the path of fire, and he knew that -he had won. Then he let her go. - -It was half past nine o’clock when Colonel Pennington was aroused by -some one knocking on the north door of his bedroom--the door that -opened upon the north porch. - -“Who is it?” he asked. - -It was the stableman. - -“Miss Eva’s horse is out, sir,” the man said. “I heard a horse pass the -bunk house about half an hour ago. I dressed and come up here to the -stables, to see if it was one of ours--somethin’ seemed to tell me it -was--an’ I found her horse out. I thought I’d better tell you about it, -sir. You can’t tell, sir, with all them pictur’ people up the cañon, -what might be goin’ on. We’ll be lucky if we have any horses or tack -left if they’re here long!” - -“Miss Eva’s in bed,” said the colonel; “but we’ll have to look into -this at once. Custer’s sick to-night, so he can’t go along with us; but -if you will saddle up my horse, and one for yourself, I’ll dress and be -right down. It can’t be the motion-picture people--they’re not horse -thieves.” - -While the stableman returned to saddle the horses, the colonel dressed. -So sure was he that Eva was in bed that he did not even stop to look -into her room. As he left the house, he was buckling on a gun--a thing -that he seldom carried, for even in the peaceful days that have settled -upon southern California a horse thief is still a horse thief. - -As he was descending the steps to the stable, he saw some one coming -up. In the moonlight there was no difficulty in recognizing the figure -of his daughter. - -“Eva!” he exclaimed. “Where have you been? What are you doing out at -this time of night, alone?” - -She did not answer, but threw herself into his arms, sobbing. - -“What is it? What has happened, child? Tell me!” - -Her sobs choked her, and she could not speak. Putting his arm about -her, her father led her up the steps and to her room. There he sat down -and held her, and tried to comfort her, while he endeavored to extract -a coherent statement from her. - -Little by little, word by word, she managed at last to tell him. - -“You mustn’t cry, dear,” he said. “You did a foolish thing to go up -there alone, but you did nothing wrong. As for what that fellow told -you about Guy, I don’t believe it.” - -“But it’s the truth,” she sobbed. “I know it is the truth now. Little -things that I didn’t think of before come back to me, and in the light -of what that terrible man told me I know that it’s true. We always knew -that Custer was innocent. Think what a change came over Guy from the -moment that Custer was arrested. He has been a different man since. And -the money--the money that we were to be married on! I never stopped -to try to reason it out. He had thousands of dollars. He told me not -to tell anybody how much he had; and that was where it came from. It -couldn’t have come from anything else. Oh, popsy, it is awful, and I -loved him so! To think that he, that Guy Evans, of all men, would have -let my brother go to jail for something he did!” - -Again her sobs stifled her. - -“Crying will do no good,” the colonel said. “Go to bed now, and -to-morrow we will talk it over. Good night, little girl. Remember, -we’ll all stick to Guy, no matter what he has done.” - -He kissed her then and left her, but he did not return to his room. -Instead, he went down to the stables and saddled his horse, for the -stableman, when Eva came in with the missing animal, had put it in its -box and returned to the bunk house. - -The colonel rode immediately to the sleeping camp in Jackknife Cañon. -His calls went unanswered for a time, but presently a sleepy man stuck -his head through the flap of a tent. - -“What do you want?” he asked. - -“I am looking for Mr. Crumb. Where is he?” - -“I don’t know. He went away in his car early in the evening, and hasn’t -come back. What’s the matter, anyway? You’re the second fellow that’s -been looking for him. Oh, you’re Colonel Pennington, aren’t you? I -didn’t recognize you. Why, some one was here a little while ago looking -for him--a young fellow on horseback. I think it must have been your -son. Anything I can do for you?” - -“Yes,” said the colonel. “In case I don’t see Mr. Crumb, you can tell -him, or whoever is in charge, that you’re to break camp in the morning -and be off my property by ten o’clock!” - -He wheeled his horse and rode down Jackknife Cañon toward Sycamore. - -“Well, what the hell!” ejaculated the sleepy man to himself, and -withdrew again into his tent. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - - -Shannon Burke, after a restless night, rose early in the morning to -ride. She always found that the quiet and peace of the hills acted as a -tonic on jangling nerves, and dispelled, at least for the moment, any -cloud of unhappiness that might be hovering over her. - -The first person to see her that morning was the flunky from the -K. K. S. camp who was rustling wood for the cook’s morning fire. So -interested was he in her rather remarkable occupation that he stood -watching her from behind a bush until she was out of sight. As long -as he saw her, she rode slowly, dragging at her side a leafy bough, -which she moved to and fro, as if sweeping the ground. She constantly -looked back, as if to note the effect of her work; and once or twice -he saw her go over short stretches of the road a second time, brushing -vigorously. - -It was quite light by that time, as it was almost five o’clock, and the -sun was just rising as she dismounted at the Ganado stables and hurried -up the steps toward the house. The iron gate at the patio entrance had -not yet been raised, so she went around to the north side of the house -and knocked on the colonel’s bedroom door. - -He came from his dressing room to answer her knock, for he was fully -dressed and evidently on the point of leaving for his morning ride. The -expression of her face denoted that something was wrong, even before -she spoke. - -“Colonel,” she cried, “Wilson Crumb has been killed. I rode early this -morning, and as I came into Sycamore over El Camino Largo I saw his -body lying under the big tree there.” - -They were both thinking the same thought, which neither dared -voice--where was Custer? - -“Did you notify the camp?” he asked. - -“No--I came directly here.” - -“You are sure that it is Crumb, and that he is dead?” he asked. - -“I am sure that it is Crumb. He was lying on his back, and though I -didn’t dismount I am quite positive that he was dead.” - -Mrs. Pennington had joined them, herself dressed for riding. - -“How terrible!” she exclaimed. - -“Terrible nothing,” exclaimed the colonel. “I’m damned glad he’s dead!” - -Shannon looked at him in astonishment, but Mrs. Pennington understood, -for the colonel had told her all that Eva had told him. - -“He was a bad man,” said Shannon. “The world will be better off without -him.” - -“You knew him?” Colonel Pennington asked in surprise. - -“I knew him in Hollywood,” she replied. - -She knew now that they must all know sooner or later, for she could not -see how she could be kept out of the investigation and the trial that -must follow. In her heart she feared that Custer had killed Crumb. The -fact that he had drunk so heavily that afternoon indicated not only -that he had overheard, but that what he had heard had affected him -profoundly--profoundly enough to have suggested the killing of the man -whom he believed to have wronged the woman he loved. - -“The first thing to do, I suppose,” said the colonel, “is to notify the -sheriff.” - -He left the room and went to the telephone. While he was away Mrs. -Pennington and Shannon discussed the tragedy, and the older woman -confided to the other the experience that Eva had had with Crumb the -previous night. - -“The beast!” muttered Shannon. “Death was too good for him!” - -Presently the colonel returned to them. - -“I think I’ll go and see if the children are going to ride with us,” he -said. “There is no reason why we shouldn’t ride as usual.” - -He went to Eva’s door and looked in. Apparently she was still fast -asleep. Her hair was down, and her curls lay in soft confusion upon her -pillow. Very gently he closed the door again, glad that she could sleep. - -When he entered his son’s room he found Custer lying fully clothed -upon his bed, his belt about his waist and his gun at his hip. His -suspicions were crystallized into belief. - -But why had Custer killed Crumb? He couldn’t have known of the man’s -affront to Eva, for she had seen no member of the family but her -father, and in him alone had she confided. - -He crossed to the bed and shook Custer by the shoulder. The younger man -opened his eyes and sat up on the edge of his bed. He looked first at -his father and then at himself--at his boots and spurs, and breeches, -and the gun about his waist. - -“What time is it?” he asked. - -“Five o’clock.” - -“I must have fallen asleep. I wish it was dinner time! I’m hungry.” - -“Dinner time! It’s only a matter of a couple of hours to breakfast. -It’s five o’clock in the morning.” - -Custer rose to his feet in surprise. - -“I must have loaded on more than I knew,” he said with a wry smile. - -“What do you mean?” asked his father. - -“I had a blue streak yesterday afternoon, and I took a few drinks; and -here I have slept all the way through to the next morning!” - -“You haven’t been out of the room since yesterday afternoon?” asked the -colonel. - -“No, of course not. I thought it was still yesterday afternoon until -you told me that it is the next morning,” said Custer. - -The colonel ran his fingers through his hair. - -“I am glad,” he said. - -Custer didn’t know why his father was glad. - -“Riding?” he asked. - -“Yes.” - -“I’ll be with you in a jiffy. I want to wash up a bit.” - -He met them at the stables a few minutes later. The effect of the -liquor had entirely disappeared. He seemed his normal self again, and -not at all like a man who had the blood of a new murder on his soul. He -was glad to see Shannon, and squeezed her hand as he passed her horse -to get his own. - -In the few moments since his father had awakened him, he had reviewed -the happenings of the previous day, and his loyalty to the girl he -loved had determined him that he had nothing to grieve about. Whatever -had been between her and Crumb she would explain. Only the fact that -Eva had interrupted her had kept him from knowing the whole truth the -previous day. - -They were mounted, and had started out, when the colonel reined to -Custer’s side. - -“Shannon just made a gruesome find up in Sycamore,” he said, and paused. - -If he had intended to surprise Custer into any indication of guilty -knowledge, he failed. - -“Gruesome find!” repeated the younger man. “What was it?” - -“Wilson Crumb has been murdered. Shannon found his body.” - -“The devil!” ejaculated Custer. “Who do you suppose could have done it?” - -Then, quite suddenly, his heart came to his mouth, as he realized that -there was only one present there who had cause to kill Wilson Crumb. He -did not dare to look at Shannon for a long time. - -They had gone only a hundred yards when Custer pulled up the Apache and -dismounted. - -“I thought so,” he said, looking at the horse’s off forefoot. “He’s -pulled that shoe again. He must have done it in the corral, for it was -on when I put him in last night. You folks go ahead. I’ll go back and -saddle Baldy.” - -The stableman was still there, and helped him. - -“That was a new shoe,” Custer said. “Look about the corral and the box, -and see if you can find it. You can tack it back on.” - -Then he swung to Baldy’s back and cantered off after the others. - -A deputy sheriff came from the village of Ganado before they returned -from their ride, and went up the cañon to take charge of Crumb’s body -and investigate the scene of the crime. - -Eva was still in bed when they were called to breakfast. They insisted -upon Shannon’s remaining, and the four were passing along the arcade -past Eva’s room. - -“I think I’ll go in and waken her,” said Mrs. Pennington. “She doesn’t -like to sleep so late.” - -The others passed into the living room, and were walking toward the -dining room when they were startled by a scream. - -“Custer! Custer!” Mrs. Pennington called to her husband. - -All three turned and hastened back to Eva’s room, where they found Mrs. -Pennington half lying across the bed, her body convulsed with sobs. The -colonel was the first to reach her, followed by Custer and Shannon. The -bedclothes lay half thrown back, where Mrs. Pennington had turned them. -The white sheet was stained with blood, and in Eva’s hand was clutched -a revolver that Custer had given her the previous Christmas. - -“My little girl, my little girl!” cried the weeping mother. “Why did -you do it?” - -The colonel knelt and put his arms about his wife. He could not speak. -Custer Pennington stood like a man turned to stone. The shock seemed to -have bereft him of the power to understand what had happened. Finally -he turned dumbly toward Shannon. The tears were running down her -cheeks. Gently she touched his sleeve. - -“My poor boy!” she said. - -The words broke the spell that had held him. He walked to the opposite -side of the bed and bent close to the still, white face of the sister -he had worshiped. - -“Dear little sister, how could you, when we love you so?” he said. - -Gently the colonel drew his wife away, and, kneeling, placed his ear -close above Eva’s heart. There were no outward indications of life, -but presently he lifted his head, an expression of hope relieving that -of grim despair which had settled upon his countenance at the first -realization of the tragedy. - -“She is not dead,” he said. “Get Baldwin! Get him at once!” He was -addressing Custer. “Then telephone Carruthers, in Los Angeles, to get -down here as soon as God will let him.” - -Custer hurried from the room to carry out his father’s instructions. - -It was later, while they were waiting for the arrival of the doctor, -that the colonel told Custer of Eva’s experience with Crumb the -previous night. - -“She wanted to kill herself because of what he told her about Guy,” he -said. “There was no other reason.” - -Then the doctor came, and they all stood in tense expectancy and -mingled dread and hope while he made his examination. Carefully and -deliberately the old doctor worked, outwardly as calm and unaffected as -if he were treating a minor injury to a stranger; yet his heart was as -heavy as theirs, for he had brought Eva into the world, and had known -and loved her all her brief life. - -At last he straightened up, to find their questioning eyes upon him. - -“She still lives,” he said, but there was no hope in his voice. - -“I have sent for Carruthers,” said the colonel. “He is on his way now. -He told Custer that he’ll be here in less than three hours.” - -“I arranged to have a couple of nurses sent out, too,” said Custer. - -Dr. Baldwin made no reply. - -“There is no hope?” asked the colonel. - -“There is always hope while there is life,” replied the doctor; “but -you must not raise yours too high.” - -They understood him, and realized that there was very little hope. - -“Can you keep her alive until Carruthers arrives?” asked the colonel. - -“I need not tell you that I shall do my best,” was the reply. - -Guy had come, with his mother. He seemed absolutely stunned by the -catastrophe that had overwhelmed him. There was a wildness in his -demeanor that frightened them all. It was necessary to watch him -carefully, for fear that he might attempt to destroy himself when he -realized at last that Eva was likely to die. - -He insisted that they should tell him all the circumstances that had -led up to the pitiful tragedy. For a time they sought to conceal a part -of the truth from him; but at last, so great was his insistence, they -were compelled to reveal all that they knew. - -Of a nervous and excitable temperament, and endowed by nature with a -character of extreme sensitiveness and comparatively little strength, -the shock of the knowledge that it was his own acts that had led Eva -to self-destruction proved too much for Guy’s overwrought nerves and -brain. So violent did he become that Colonel Pennington and Custer -together could scarce restrain him, and it became necessary to send for -two of the ranch employees. - -When the deputy sheriff came to question them about the murder of -Crumb, it was evident that Guy’s mind was so greatly affected that he -did not understand what was taking place around him. He had sunk into a -morose silence broken at intervals by fits of raving. Later in the day, -at Dr. Baldwin’s suggestion, he was removed to a sanatorium outside of -Los Angeles. - -Guy’s mental collapse, and the necessity for constantly restraining -him, had resulted in taking Custer’s mind from his own grief, at least -for the moment; but when he was not thus occupied he sat staring -straight ahead of him in dumb despair. - -It was eleven o’clock when the best surgeon that Los Angeles could -furnish arrived, bringing a nurse with him, and Eva was still breathing -when he came. Dr. Baldwin was there, and together the three worked for -an hour while the Penningtons and Shannon waited almost hopelessly in -the living room, Mrs. Evans having accompanied Guy to Los Angeles. - -Finally, after what seemed years, the door of the living room opened, -and Dr. Carruthers entered. They scanned his face as he entered, but -saw nothing there to lighten the burden of their apprehension. The -colonel and Custer rose. - -“Well?” asked the former, his voice scarcely audible. - -“The operation was successful. I found the bullet and removed it.” - -“She will live, then!” cried Mrs. Pennington, coming quickly toward him. - -He took her hands very gently in his. - -“My dear madam,” he said, “it would be cruel of me to hold out useless -hope. She hasn’t more than one chance in a hundred. It is a miracle -that she was alive when you found her. Only a splendid constitution, -resulting from the life that she has led, could possibly account for -it.” - -The mother turned away with a low moan. - -“There is nothing more that you can do?” asked the colonel. - -“I have done all that I can,” replied Carruthers. - -“She will not last long?” - -“It may be a matter of hours, or only minutes,” he replied. “She is -in excellent hands, however. No one could do more for her than Dr. -Baldwin.” - -The two nurses whom Custer had arranged for had arrived, and when Dr. -Carruthers departed he took his own nurse with him. - -It was afternoon when deputies from the sheriff’s and coroner’s offices -arrived from Los Angeles, together with detectives from the district -attorney’s office. Crumb’s body still lay where it had fallen, guarded -by a constable from the village of Ganado. It was surrounded by members -of his company, villagers, and near-by ranchers, for word of the murder -had spread rapidly in the district in that seemingly mysterious way -in which news travels in rural communities. Among the crowd was Slick -Allen, who had returned to the valley after his release from the county -jail. - -A partially successful effort had been made to keep the crowd from -trampling the ground in the immediate vicinity of the body, but beyond -a limited area whatever possible clews the murderer might have left in -the shape of footprints had been entirely obliterated long before the -officers arrived from Los Angeles. - -When the body was finally lifted from its resting place, and placed -in the ambulance that had been brought from Los Angeles, one of the -detectives picked up a horseshoe that had lain underneath the body. -From its appearance it was evident that it had been upon a horse’s hoof -very recently, and had been torn off by force. - -As the detective examined the shoe, several of the crowd pressed -forward to look at it. Among them was Allen. - -“That’s off of young Pennington’s horse,” he said. - -“How do you know that?” inquired the detective. - -“I used to work for them--took care of their saddle horses. This young -Pennington’s horse forges. They had to shoe him special, to keep him -from pulling the off fore shoe. I could tell one of his shoes in a -million. If they haven’t walked all over his tracks, I can tell whether -that horse had been up here or not.” - -He stooped and examined the ground close to where the body had lain. - -“There!” he said, pointing. “There’s an imprint of one of his hind -feet. See how the toe of that shoe is squared off? That was made by the -Apache, all right!” - -The detective was interested. He studied the hoofprint carefully, and -searched for others, but this was the only one he could find. - -“Looks like some one had been sweeping this place with a broom,” he -remarked. “There ain’t much of anything shows.” - -A pimply-faced young man spoke up. - -“There was some one sweeping the ground this morning,” he said. “About -five o’clock this morning I seen a girl dragging the branch of a tree -after her, and sweeping along the road below here.” - -“Did you know her?” asked the detective. - -“No--I never seen her before.” - -“Would you know her if you saw her again?” - -“Sure I’d know her! She was a pippin. I’d know her horse, too.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - - -Eva was still breathing faintly as the sun dropped behind the western -hills. Shannon had not left the house all day. She felt that Custer -needed her, that they all needed her, however little she could do to -mitigate their grief. There was at least a sense of sharing their -burden, and her fine sensibilities told her that this service of love -was quite as essential as the more practical help that she would have -been glad to offer had it been within her power. - -She was standing in the patio with Custer, at sunset, within call of -Eva’s room, as they had all been during the entire day, when a car -drove up along the south drive and stopped at the patio entrance. Three -of the four men in it alighted and advanced toward them. - -“You are Custer Pennington?” one of them asked. - -Pennington nodded. - -“And you are Miss Burke--Miss Shannon Burke?” - -“I am.” - -“I am a deputy sheriff. I have a warrant here for your arrest.” - -“Arrest!” exclaimed Custer. “For what?” - -He read the warrant to them. It charged them with the murder of Wilson -Crumb. - -“I am sorry, Mr. Pennington,” said the deputy sheriff; “but I have been -given these warrants, and there is nothing for me to do but serve them.” - -“You have to take us away now? Can’t you wait--until--my sister is -dying in there. Couldn’t it be arranged so that I could stay here under -arrest as long as she lives?” - -The deputy shook his head. - -“It would be all right with me,” he said; “but I have no authority to -let you stay. I’ll telephone in, though, and see what I can do. Where -is the telephone?” - -Pennington told him. - -“You two stay here with my men,” said the deputy sheriff, “while I -telephone.” - -He was gone about fifteen minutes. When he returned, he shook his head. - -“Nothing doing,” he said. “I have to bring you both in right away.” - -“May I go to her room and see her again before I leave?” asked Custer. - -“Yes,” said the deputy; but when Custer turned toward his sister’s -room, the officer accompanied him. - -Dr. Baldwin and one of the nurses were in the room. Young Pennington -came and stood beside the bed, looking down on the white face and the -tumbled curls upon the pillow. He could not perceive the slightest -indication of life, yet they told him that Eva still lived. He knelt -and kissed her, and then turned away. He tried to say good-by to her, -but his voice broke, and he turned and left the room hurriedly. - -Colonel and Mrs. Pennington were in the patio, with Shannon and the -officers. The colonel and his wife had just learned of this new blow, -and both of them were stunned. The colonel seemed to have aged a -generation in that single day. He was a tired, hopeless old man. The -heart of his boy and that of Shannon Burke went out to him and to the -suffering mother from whom their son was to be taken at this moment -in their lives when they needed him most. In their compassion for the -older Penningtons they almost forgot the seriousness of their own -situation. - -At their arraignment, next morning, the preliminary hearing was set for -the following Friday. Early in the morning Custer had received word -from Ganado that Eva still lived, and that Dr. Baldwin now believed -they might hold some slight hope for her recovery. - -At Ganado, despair and anxiety had told heavily upon the Penningtons. -The colonel felt that he should be in Los Angeles, to assist in the -defense of his son; and yet he knew that his place was with his wife, -whose need of him was even greater. Nor would his heart permit him to -leave the daughter whom he worshiped, so long as even a faint spark of -life remained in that beloved frame. - -Mrs. Evans returned from Los Angeles the following day. She was almost -prostrated by this last of a series of tragedies ordered, as it seemed, -by some malignant fate for the wrecking of her happiness. She told them -that Guy appeared to be hopelessly insane. He did not know his mother, -nor did he give the slightest indication of any recollection of his -past life, or of the events that had overthrown his reason. - -At ten o’clock on Wednesday night Dr. Baldwin came into the living -room, where the colonel and his wife were sitting with Mrs. Evans. For -two days none of them had been in bed. They were tired and haggard, but -not more so than the old doctor, who had remained constantly on duty -from the moment when he was summoned. Never had man worked with more -indefatigable zeal than he to wrest a young life from the path of the -grim reaper. There were deep lines beneath his eyes, and his face was -pale and drawn, as he entered the room and stood before them; but for -the first time in many hours there was a smile upon his lips. - -“I believe,” he said, “that we are going to save her.” - -The others were too much affected to speak. So long had hope been -denied that now they dared not even think of hope. - -“She regained consciousness a few moments ago. She looked up at me and -smiled, and then she fell asleep. She is breathing quite naturally now. -She must not be disturbed, though. I think it would be well if you all -retired. Mrs. Pennington, you certainly must get some sleep--and you -too, Mrs. Evans, or I cannot be responsible for the results. I have -left word with the night nurse to call me immediately, if necessary, -and if you will all go to your rooms I will lie on the sofa here in the -living room. I feel at last that it will be safe for me to leave her in -the hands of the nurse, and a little sleep won’t hurt me.” - -The colonel took his old friend by the hand. - -“Baldwin,” he said, “it is useless to try to thank you. I couldn’t, -even if there were the words to do it with.” - -“You don’t have to, Pennington. I think I love her as much as you -do. There isn’t any one who knows her who doesn’t love her, and who -wouldn’t have done as much as I. Now, get off to bed all of you, and I -think we’ll find something to be very happy about by morning. If there -is any change for the worse, I will let you know immediately.” - - * * * * * - -In the county jail in Los Angeles, Custer Pennington and Shannon -Burke, awaiting trial on charges of a capital crime, were filled with -increasing happiness as the daily reports from Ganado brought word of -Eva’s steady improvement, until at last that she was entirely out of -danger. - -The tedious preliminaries of selecting a jury were finally concluded. -As witness after witness was called, Pennington came to realize for -the first time what a web of circumstantial evidence the State had -fabricated about him. Even from servants whom he knew to be loyal and -friendly the most damaging evidence was elicited. His mother’s second -maid testified that she had seen him fully dressed in his room late -in the evening before the murder, when she had come in, as was her -custom, with a pitcher of iced water, not knowing that the young man -was there. She had seen him lying upon the bed, with his gun in its -holster hanging from the belt about his waist. She also testified that -the following morning, when she had come in to make up his bed, she had -discovered that it had not been slept in. - -The stableman testified that the Apache had been out on the night -of the murder. He had rubbed the animal off earlier in the evening, -when the defendant had come in from riding. At that time the two had -examined the horse’s shoes, the animal having just been reshod. He said -that on the morning after the murder there were saddle sweat marks on -the Apache’s back, and that the off fore shoe was missing. - -One of the K. K. S. employees testified that a young man, whom he -partially identified as Custer, had ridden into their camp about nine -o’clock on the night of the murder, and had inquired concerning the -whereabouts of Crumb. He said that the young man seemed excited, and -upon being told that Crumb was away he had ridden off rapidly toward -Sycamore Cañon. - -Added to all this were the damaging evidence of the detective who had -found the Apache’s off fore shoe under Crumb’s body, and the positive -identification of the shoe by Allen. The one thing that was lacking--a -motive for the crime--was supplied by Allen and the Penningtons’ house -man. - -The latter testified that among his other duties was the care of the -hot water heater in the basement of the Pennington home. Upon the -evening of Saturday, August 5, he had forgotten to shut off the burner, -as was his custom. He had returned about nine o’clock, to do so. When -he had left the house by the passageway leading from the basement -beneath the south drive and opening on the hillside just above the -water gardens, he had seen a man standing by the upper pool, with his -arms about a woman, whom he was kissing. It was a bright moonlight -night, and the house man had recognized the two as Custer Pennington -and Miss Burke. Being embarrassed by having thus accidentally come upon -them, he had moved away quietly in the opposite direction, among the -shadows of the trees, and had returned to the bunk house. - -The connecting link between this evidence and the motive for the crime -was elicited from Allen in half an hour of direct examination, which -constituted the most harrowing ordeal that Shannon Burke had ever -endured; for it laid bare before the world, and before the man she -loved, the sordid history of her life with Wilson Crumb. It portrayed -her as a drug addict and a wanton; but, more terrible still, it -established a motive for the murder of Crumb by Custer Pennington. - -Owing to the fact that he had lain in a drunken stupor during the night -of the crime, that no one had seen him from the time when the maid -entered his room to bring his iced water until his father had found -him fully clothed upon his bed at five o’clock the following morning, -young Pennington was unable to account for his actions, or to state his -whereabouts at the time when the murder was committed. - -He realized what the effect of the evidence must be upon the minds -of the jurors when he himself was unable to assert positively, even -to himself, that he had not left his room that night. Nor was he -very anxious to refute the charge against him, since in his heart he -believed that Shannon Burke had killed Crumb. He did not even take the -stand in his own defense. - -The evidence against Shannon was less convincing. A motive had been -established in Crumb’s knowledge of her past life and the malign -influence that he had had upon it. The testimony of the camp flunky who -had seen her obliterating what evidence the trail might have given in -the form of hoofprints constituted practically the only direct evidence -that was brought against her. It seemed to Custer that the gravest -charge that could justly be brought against her was that of accessory -after the fact, provided the jury was convinced of his guilt. - -Many witnesses testified, giving evidence concerning apparently -irrelevant subjects. It was brought out, however, that Crumb died from -the effects of a wound inflicted by a forty-five-caliber pistol, that -Custer Pennington possessed such a weapon, and that at the time of -his arrest it had been found in its holster, with its cartridge belt, -thrown carelessly upon his bed. - -When Shannon Burke took the stand, all eyes were riveted upon her. -They were attracted not only by her youth and beauty, but also by the -morbid interest which the frequenters of court rooms would naturally -feel in the disclosure of the life she had led at Hollywood. Even to -the most sophisticated it appeared incredible that this refined girl, -whose soft, well modulated voice and quiet manner carried a conviction -of innate modesty, could be the woman whom Slick Allen’s testimony had -revealed in such a rôle of vice and degradation. - -Allen’s eyes were fastened upon her with the same intent and searching -expression that had marked his attitude upon the occasion of his last -visit to the Vista del Paso bungalow, as if he were trying to recall -the identity of some half forgotten face. - -Though Shannon gave her evidence in a simple, straightforward manner, -it was manifest that she was undergoing an intense nervous strain. The -story that she told, coming as it did out of a clear sky, unguessed -either by the prosecution or by the defense, proved a veritable -bombshell to them both. It came after it had appeared that the last -link had been forged in the chain that fixed the guilt upon Custer -Pennington. She had asked, then, to be permitted to take the stand and -tell her story in her own way. - -“I did not see Mr. Crumb,” she said, “from the time I left Hollywood on -the 30th of July, last year, until the afternoon before he was killed; -nor had I communicated with him during that time. What Mr. Allen told -you about my having been a drug addict was true, but he did not tell -you that Crumb made me what I was, or that after I came to Ganado to -live I overcame the habit. I did not live with Crumb as his wife. He -used me to peddle narcotics for him. I was afraid of him, and did not -want to go back to him. When I left, I did not even let him know where -I was going. - -“The afternoon before he was killed I met him accidentally in the patio -of Colonel Pennington’s home. The Penningtons had no knowledge of my -association with Crumb. I knew that they wouldn’t have tolerated me, -had they known what I had been. Crumb demanded that I should return to -him, and threatened to expose me if I refused. I knew that he was going -to be up in the cañon that night. I rode up there and shot him. The -next morning I went back and attempted to obliterate the tracks of my -horse, for I had learned from Custer Pennington that it is sometimes -easy to recognize individual peculiarities in the tracks of a shod -horse. That is all, except that Mr. Pennington had no knowledge of what -I did, and no part in it.” - -Momentarily her statement seemed to overthrow the State’s case -against Pennington; but that the district attorney was not convinced -of its truth was indicated by his cross-examination of her and other -witnesses, and later by the calling of new witnesses. They could not -shake her testimony, but on the other hand she was unable to prove that -she had ever possessed a forty-five-caliber pistol, or to account for -what she had done with it after the crime. - -During the course of her cross-examination many apparently unimportant -and irrelevant facts were adduced, among them the name of the Middle -Western town in which she had been born. This trivial bit of testimony -was the only point that seemed to make any impression on Allen. Any -one watching him at the moment would have seen a sudden expression of -incredulity and consternation overspread his face, the hard lines of -which slowly gave place to what might, in another, have suggested a -semblance of grief. - -For several minutes he sat staring intently at Shannon. Then he crossed -to the side of her attorney, and whispered a few words in the lawyer’s -ear. Receiving an assent to whatever his suggestion might have been, he -left the court room. - -On the following day the defense introduced a new witness in the person -of a Japanese who had been a house servant in the bungalow on the Vista -del Paso. His testimony substantiated Shannon Burke’s statement that -she and Crumb had not lived together as man and wife. - -Then Allen was recalled to the stand. He told of the last evening that -he had spent at Crumb’s bungalow, and of the fact that Miss Burke, who -was then known to him as Gaza de Lure, had left the house at the same -time he did. He testified that Crumb had asked her why she was going -home so early; that she had replied that she wanted to write a letter; -that he, Allen, had remarked “I thought you lived here,” to which she -had replied, “I’m here nearly all day, but I go home nights.” The -witness added that this conversation took place in Crumb’s presence, -and that the director did not in any way deny the truth of the girl’s -assertion. - -Why Allen should have suddenly espoused her cause was a mystery to -Shannon, only to be accounted for upon the presumption that if he could -lessen the value of that part of her testimony which had indicated a -possible motive for the crime, he might thereby strengthen the case -against Pennington, toward whom he still felt enmity, and whom he had -long ago threatened to “get.” - -The district attorney, in his final argument, drew a convincing picture -of the crime from the moment when Custer Pennington saddled his horse -at the stables at Ganado. He followed him up the cañon to the camp in -Jackknife, where he had inquired concerning Crumb, and then down to -Sycamore again, where, at the mouth of Jackknife, the lights of Crumb’s -car would have been visible up the larger cañon. - -He demonstrated clearly that a man familiar with the hills, and -searching for some one whom sentiments of jealousy and revenge were -prompting him to destroy, would naturally investigate this automobile -light that was shining where no automobile should be. That the prisoner -had ridden out with the intention of killing Crumb was apparent -from the fact that he had carried a pistol in a country where, under -ordinary circumstances, there was no necessity for carrying a weapon -for self-defense. He vividly portrayed the very instant of the -commission of the crime--how Pennington leaned from his saddle and shot -Crumb through the heart; the sudden leap of the murderer’s horse as he -was startled by the report of the pistol, or possibly by the falling -body of the murdered man; and how, in so jumping, he had forged and -torn off the shoe that had been found beneath Crumb’s body. - -“And,” he said, “this woman knew that he was going to kill Wilson -Crumb. She knew it, and she made no effort to prevent it. On the -contrary, as soon as it was light enough, she rode directly to the spot -where Crumb’s body lay, and, as has been conclusively demonstrated by -the unimpeachable testimony of an eyewitness, she deliberately sought -to expunge all traces of her lover’s guilt.” - -He derided Shannon’s confession, which he termed an eleventh hour -effort to save a guilty man from the gallows. - -“If she killed Wilson Crumb, what did she kill him with?” - -He picked up the bullet that had been extracted from Crumb’s body. - -“Where is the pistol from which this bullet came? Here it is, -gentlemen!” - -He picked up the weapon that had been taken from Custer’s room. - -“Compare this bullet with those others that were taken from the clip in -the handle of this automatic. They are identical. This pistol did not -belong to Shannon Burke. It was never in her possession. No pistol of -this character was ever in her possession. Had she had one, she could -have told where she obtained it, and whether it had been sold to her -or to another; and the records of the seller would show whether or not -she spoke the truth. Failing to tell us where she procured the weapon, -she could at least lead us to the spot where she had disposed of it. -She can do neither, and the reason why she cannot is because she never -owned a forty-five-caliber pistol. She never had one in her possession, -and therefore she could not have killed Crumb with one.” - -When at length the case went to the jury, Custer Pennington’s -conviction seemed a foregone conclusion, while the fate of Shannon -Burke was yet in the laps of the gods. The testimony that Allen and -the Japanese servant had given in substantiation of Shannon’s own -statement that her relations with Wilson Crumb had only been those of -an accomplice in the disposal of narcotics, removed from consideration -the principal motive that she might have had for killing Crumb. - -And so there was no great surprise when, several hours later, the -jury returned a verdict in accordance with the public opinion of Los -Angeles--where, owing to the fact that murder juries are not isolated, -such cases are tried largely by the newspapers and the public. They -found Custer Pennington, Jr., guilty of murder in the first degree, and -Shannon Burke not guilty. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - - -On the day when Custer was to be sentenced, Colonel Pennington and -Shannon Burke were present in the court room. Mrs. Pennington had -remained at home with Eva, who was slowly convalescing. Shannon reached -the court room before the colonel. When he arrived, he sat down beside -her, and placed his hand on hers. - -“Whatever happens,” he said, “we shall still believe in him. No matter -what the evidence--and I do not deny that the jury brought in a just -verdict in accordance with it--I know that he is innocent. He told me -yesterday that he was innocent, and my boy would not lie to me. He -thought that you killed Crumb, Shannon. He overheard the conversation -between you and Crumb in the patio that day, and he knew that you had -good reason to kill the man. He knows now, as we all know, that you did -not. Probably it must always remain a mystery. He would not tell me -that he was innocent until after you had been proven so. He loves you -very much, my girl!” - -“After all that he heard here in court? After what I have been? I -thought none of you would ever want to see me again.” - -The colonel pressed her hand. - -“Whatever happens,” he said, “you are going back home with me. You -tried to give your life for my son. If this were not enough, the fact -that he loves you, and that we love you, is enough.” - -Two tears crept down Shannon’s cheeks--the first visible signs of -emotion that she had manifested during all the long weeks of the ordeal -that she had been through. Nothing had so deeply affected her as the -magnanimity of the proud old Pennington, whose pride and honor, while -she had always admired them, she had regarded as an indication of a -certain puritanical narrowness that could not forgive the transgression -of a woman. - -When the judge announced the sentence, and they realized that Custer -Pennington was to pay the death penalty, although it had been almost a -foregone conclusion, the shock left them numb and cold. - -Neither the condemned man nor his father gave any outward indication of -the effect of the blow. They were Penningtons, and the Pennington pride -permitted them no show of weakness before the eyes of strangers. Nor -yet was there any bravado in their demeanor. The younger Pennington did -not look at his father or Shannon as he was led away toward his cell, -between two bailiffs. - -As Shannon Burke walked from the court room with the colonel, she could -think of nothing but the fact that in two months the man she loved -was to be hanged. She tried to formulate plans for his release--wild, -quixotic plans; but she could not concentrate her mind upon anything -but the bewildering thought that in two months they would hang him by -the neck until he was dead. - -She knew that he was innocent. Who, then, had committed the crime? Who -had murdered Wilson Crumb? - -Outside the Hall of Justice she was accosted by Allen, whom she -attempted to pass without noticing. The colonel turned angrily on the -man. He was in the mood to commit murder himself; but Allen forestalled -any outbreak on the old man’s part by a pacific gesture of his hands -and a quick appeal to Shannon. - -“Just a moment, please,” he said. “I know you think I had a lot to do -with Pennington’s conviction. I want to help you now. I can’t tell you -why. I don’t believe he was guilty. I changed my mind recently. If I -can see you alone, Miss Burke, I can tell you something that might give -you a line on the guilty party.” - -“Under no conceivable circumstances can you see Miss Burke alone,” -snapped the colonel. - -“I’m not going to hurt her,” said Allen. “Just let her talk to me here -alone on the sidewalk, where no one can overhear.” - -“Yes,” said the girl, who could see no opportunity pass which held the -slightest ray of hope for Custer. - -The colonel walked away, but turned and kept his eyes on the man when -he was out of earshot. Allen spoke hurriedly to the girl for ten or -fifteen minutes, and then turned and left her. When she returned to -the colonel, the latter did not question her. When she did not offer -to confide in him, he knew that she must have good reasons for her -reticence, since he realized that her sole interest lay in aiding -Custer. - - * * * * * - -For the next two months the colonel divided his time between Ganado and -San Francisco, that he might be near San Quentin, where Custer was held -pending the day of execution. Mrs. Pennington, broken in health by the -succession of blows that she had sustained, was sorely in need of his -companionship and help. Eva was rapidly regaining her strength and some -measure of her spirit. She had begun to realize how useless and foolish -her attempt at self-destruction had been, and to see that the braver -and nobler course would have been to give Guy the benefit of her moral -support in his time of need. - -The colonel, who had wormed from Custer the full story of his -conviction upon the liquor charge, was able to convince her that -Guy had not played a dishonorable part, and that of the two he had -suffered more than Custer. Her father did not condone or excuse Guy’s -wrong-doing, but he tried to make her understand that it was no -indication of a criminal inclination, but rather the thoughtless act of -an undeveloped boy. - -During the two months they saw little or nothing of Shannon. She -remained in Los Angeles, and when she made the long trip to San -Quentin to see Custer, or when they chanced to see her, they could not -but note how thin and drawn she was becoming. The roses had left her -cheeks, and there were deep lines beneath her eyes, in which there was -constantly an expression of haunting fear. - -As the day of the execution drew nearer, the gloom that had hovered -over Ganado for months settled like a dense pall upon them all. On the -day before the execution the colonel left for San Francisco, to say -good-by to his son for the last time. Custer had insisted that his -mother and Eva must not come, and they had acceded to his wish. - -On the afternoon when the colonel arrived at San Quentin, he was -permitted to see his son for the last time. The two conversed in low -tones, Custer asking questions about his mother and sister, and about -the little everyday activities of the ranch. Neither of them referred -to the event of the following morning. - -“Has Shannon been here to-day?” the colonel asked. - -Custer shook his head. - -“I haven’t seen her this week,” he said. “I suppose she dreaded coming. -I don’t blame her. I should like to have seen her once more, though!” - -Presently they stood in silence for several moments. - -“You’d better go, dad,” said the boy. “Go back to mother and Eva. Don’t -take it too hard. It isn’t so bad, after all. I have led a bully life, -and I have never forgotten once that I am a Pennington. I shall not -forget it to-morrow.” - -The father could not speak. They clasped hands once, the older man -turned away, and the guards led Custer back to the death cell for the -last time. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - - -It was morning when the colonel reached the ranch. He found his wife -and Eva sitting in Custer’s room. They knew the hour, and they were -waiting there to be as near him as they could. They were weeping -quietly. In the kitchen across the patio they could hear Hannah sobbing. - -They sat there for a long time in silence. Suddenly they heard a door -slam in the patio, and the sound of some one running. - -“Colonel Pennington! Colonel Pennington!” a voice cried. - -The colonel stepped to the door of Custer’s room. It was the bookkeeper -calling him. - -“What is it?” he asked. “Here I am.” - -“The Governor has granted a stay of execution. There is new evidence. -Miss Burke is on her way here now. She has found the man who killed -Crumb!” - -What more he said the colonel did not hear, for he had turned back into -the room, and, collapsing on his son’s bed, had broken into tears--he -who had gone through those long weeks like a man of iron. - -It was nearly noon before Shannon arrived. She had been driven from -Los Angeles by an attaché of the district attorney’s office. The -Penningtons had been standing on the east porch, watching the road with -binoculars, so anxious were they for confirmation of their hopes. - -She was out of the car before it had stopped and was running toward -them. The man who had accompanied her followed, and joined them on the -porch. Shannon threw her arms around Mrs. Pennington’s neck. - -“He is safe!” she cried. “Another has confessed, and has satisfied the -district attorney of his guilt.” - -“Who was it?” they asked. - -Shannon turned toward Eva. - -“It is going to be another blow to you all,” she said; “but wait until -I’m through, and you will understand that it could not have been -otherwise. It was Guy who killed Wilson Crumb.” - -“Guy? Why should he have done it?” - -“That was it. That was why suspicion was never directed toward him. -Only he knew the facts that prompted him to commit the deed. It was -Allen who suggested to me the possibility that it might have been Guy. -I have spent nearly two months at the sanatorium with this gentleman -from the district attorney’s office, in an effort to awaken Guy’s -sleeping intellect to a realization of the past, and of the present -necessity for recalling it. He has been improving steadily, but it was -only yesterday that memory returned to him. We worked on the theory -that if he could be made to realize that Eva lived, the cause of his -mental sickness would be removed. We tried everything, and we had -almost given up hope when, almost like a miracle, his memory returned, -while he was looking at a kodak picture of Eva that I had shown him. -The rest was easy, especially after he knew that she had recovered. -Instead of the necessity for confession resulting in a further shock, -it seemed to inspirit him. His one thought was of Custer, his one hope -that we would be in time to save him.” - -“Why did he kill Crumb?” asked Eva. - -“Because Crumb killed Grace. He told me the whole story yesterday.” - -Very carefully Shannon related all that Guy had told of Crumb’s -relations with his sister, up to the moment of Grace’s death. - -“I am glad he killed him!” said Eva. “I would have had no respect for -him if he hadn’t done it.” - -“Guy told me that the evening before he killed Crumb he had been -looking over a motion picture magazine, and he had seen there a -picture of Crumb which tallied with the photograph he had taken from -Grace’s dressing table--a portrait of the man who, as she told him, -was responsible for her trouble. Guy had never been able to learn this -man’s identity, but the picture in the magazine, with his name below -it, was a reproduction of the same photograph. There was no question -as to the man’s identity. The scarfpin, and a lock of hair falling in -a peculiar way over the forehead, marked the pictures as identical. -Though Guy had never seen Crumb, he knew from conversations that he -had heard here that it was Wilson Crumb who was directing the picture -that was to be taken on Ganado. He immediately got his pistol, saddled -his horse, and rode up to the camp in search of Crumb. It was he whom -one of the witnesses mistook for Custer. He then did what the district -attorney attributed to Custer. He rode to the mouth of Jackknife, and -saw the lights of Crumb’s car up near El Camino Largo. While he was in -Jackknife, Eva must have ridden down Sycamore from her meeting with -Crumb, passing Jackknife before Guy rode back into Sycamore. He rode -up to where Crumb was attempting to crank his engine. Evidently the -starter had failed to work, for Crumb was standing in front of the car, -in the glare of the headlights, attempting to crank it. Guy accosted -him, charged him with the murder of Grace, and shot him. He then -started for home by way of El Camino Largo. Half a mile up the trail he -dismounted and hid his pistol and belt in a hollow tree. Then he rode -home. - -“He told me that while he never for an instant regretted his act, he -did not sleep all that night, and was in a highly nervous condition -when the shock of Eva’s supposed death unbalanced his mind; otherwise -he would gladly have assumed the guilt of Crumb’s death at the time -when Custer and I were accused. - -“After we had obtained Guy’s confession, Allen gave us further -information tending to prove Custer innocent. He said he could not give -it before without incriminating himself; and as he had no love for -Custer, he did not intend to hang for a crime he had not committed. He -knew that he would surely hang if he confessed the part that he had -played in formulating the evidence against Custer. - -“Crumb had been the means of sending Allen to the county jail, after -robbing him of several thousand dollars. The day before Crumb was -killed, Allen’s sentence expired. The first thing he did was to search -for Crumb, with the intention of killing the man. He learned at the -studio where Crumb was, and he followed him immediately. He was hanging -around the camp out of sight, waiting for Crumb, when he heard the -shot that killed him. His investigation led him to Crumb’s body. He -was instantly overcome by the fear, induced by his guilty conscience, -that the crime would be laid at his door. In casting about for some -plan by which he might divert suspicion from himself, he discovered -an opportunity to turn it against a man whom he hated. The fact that -he had been a stableman on Ganado, and was familiar with the customs -of the ranch, made it an easy thing for him to go to the stables, -saddle the Apache, and ride him up Sycamore to Crumb’s body. Here he -deliberately pulled off the fore shoe from the horse and hid it under -Crumb’s body. Then he rode back to the stable, unsaddled the Apache, -and made his way to the village. - -“The district attorney said that we need have no fear but that Custer -will be exonerated and freed. And, Eva”--she turned to the girl with -a happy smile--“I have it very confidentially that there is small -likelihood that any jury in southern California will convict Guy, if he -bases his defense upon a plea of insanity.” - -Eva smiled bravely and said: - -“One thing I don’t understand, Shannon, is what you were doing brushing -the road with a bough from a tree, on the morning after the killing of -Crumb, if you weren’t trying to obliterate some one’s tracks.” - -“That’s just what I was trying to do,” said Shannon. “Ever since Custer -taught me something about tracking, it has held a certain fascination -for me, so that I often try to interpret the tracks I see along -the trails in the hills. It was because of this, I suppose, that I -immediately recognized the Apache’s tracks around the body of Crumb. I -immediately jumped to the conclusion that Custer had killed him, and I -did what I could to remove this evidence. As it turned out, my efforts -did more harm than good, until Allen’s explanation cleared up the -matter.” - -“And why,” asked the colonel, “did Allen undergo this sudden change of -heart?” - -Shannon turned toward him, her face slightly flushed, though she looked -him straight in the eyes as she spoke. - -“It is a hard thing for me to tell you,” she said. “Allen is a bad -man--a very bad man; yet in the worst of man there is a spark of good. -Allen told me this morning, in the district attorney’s office, what it -was that had kindled to life the spark of good in him. He is my father.” - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - - -Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a -predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they -were not changed. - -Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation -marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left -unbalanced. - -Transcriber removed redundant half-title page. - -Page 60: “some one’s else happiness” was printed that way. - -Page 78: “an unkind face” was printed that way; may be a typographical -error for “fate”. - -Page 79: “the possessor a quiet humor” was printed that way, likely -omitting an “of”. - -Page 87: “Half an hour later he emerged” originally was printed as -“merged”. - -Page 189: “which had arisen in his mind and would not down.” was printed -that way; probably should be “go down.” - -Page 200: “she cared about just then” originally was printed as “just -them”. - -Page 248: “There’s be a whole regiment” was printed that way. - -Page 263: “she was purposely avoiding her” was printed that way, but -“she” perhaps should be “he”. - -Page 310: “leap of the murderer’s horse” originally was printed as -“murder’s”. - -Page 319: “pulled off the fore shoe” originally was printed as “the -off”. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Girl from Hollywood, by Edgar Rice Burroughs - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD *** - -***** This file should be named 62409-0.txt or 62409-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/4/0/62409/ - -Produced by Tim Lindell, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from images made available by the -HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: The Girl from Hollywood - -Author: Edgar Rice Burroughs - -Release Date: June 15, 2020 [EBook #62409] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD *** - - - - -Produced by Tim Lindell, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from images made available by the -HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="transnote center"> -<p class="larger bold">Transcriber’s Note<span class="epubonly">s</span></p> - -<p class="covernote">Cover created by Transcriber, using an illustration -from the original book, and placed in the Public Domain.</p> - -<p>Table of Contents added by Transcriber and placed in -the Public Domain.</p> -</div> - -<h1>THE GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD</h1> - -<hr /> - -<div class="newpage figcenter" id="ifrontis" style="max-width: 34em;"> - <img src="images/i_frontis.jpg" width="538" height="700" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p>The director’s eyes snapped.... “Only a camera man -and myself are here,” he said</p></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="newpage p4 center vspace wspace"> -<p class="xlarge"> -THE<br /> -<span class="larger">GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD</span></p> - -<p class="p2 novspace">BY<br /> -<span class="larger">EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS</span></p> -<p class="small novspace">AUTHOR OF “TARZON OF THE APES,” “THE<br /> -RETURN OF TARZON,” ETC.</p> - -<p class="p2 novspace">FRONTISPIECE BY<br /> -<span class="larger">P. J. MONAHAN</span></p> - -<p class="p2 larger">NEW YORK<br /> -THE MACAULAY COMPANY -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="newpage p4"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1923,<br /> -By</span> EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS -</p> - -<p class="p2 smaller">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td class="tdr norpad">CHAPTER</td> - <td class="tdr norpad">PAGE</td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">9</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">16</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IV</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">21</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">V</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">32</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VI</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">46</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">54</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VIII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">58</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IX</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">63</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">X</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">70</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XI</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">79</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">88</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">96</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIV</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">103</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XV</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">115</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVI</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">129</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">145</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVIII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">151</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIX</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">164</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XX</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">168</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXI</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">180</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">189</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">195</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIV</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">204</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXV</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">211</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXVI</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">218</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXVII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">226</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXVIII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">236</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIX</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">244</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXX</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">249</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXI</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">254</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">264</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXIII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">275</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXIV</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">283</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXV</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">293</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXVI</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">304</a></td> -</tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXVII</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">308</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_GIRL_FROM_HOLLYWOOD"><span class="larger">THE GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD</span></h2> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">The</span> two horses picked their way carefully downward -over the loose shale of the steep hillside. The big bay -stallion in the lead sidled mincingly, tossing his head -nervously, and flecking the flannel shirt of his rider with -foam. Behind the man on the stallion a girl rode a -clean-limbed bay of lighter color, whose method of descent, -while less showy, was safer, for he came more slowly, -and in the very bad places he braced his four feet forward -and slid down, sometimes almost sitting upon the -ground.</p> - -<p>At the base of the hill there was a narrow level strip; -then an eight-foot wash, with steep banks, barred the -way to the opposite side of the cañon, which rose gently -to the hills beyond. At the foot of the descent the man -reined in and waited until the girl was safely down; then -he wheeled his mount and trotted toward the wash. -Twenty feet from it he gave the animal its head and -a word. The horse broke into a gallop, took off at the -edge of the wash, and cleared it so effortlessly as almost -to give the impression of flying.</p> - -<p>Behind the man came the girl, but her horse came -at the wash with a rush—not the slow, steady gallop of -the stallion—and at the very brink he stopped to gather -himself. The dry bank caved beneath his front feet, -and into the wash he went, head first.</p> - -<p>The man turned and spurred back. The girl looked up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span> -from her saddle, making a wry face.</p> - -<p>“No damage?” he asked, an expression of concern upon -his face.</p> - -<p>“No damage,” the girl replied. “Senator is clumsy -enough at jumping, but no matter what happens he always -lights on his feet.”</p> - -<p>“Ride down a bit,” said the man. “There’s an easy -way out just below.”</p> - -<p>She moved off in the direction he indicated, her horse -picking his way among the loose bowlders in the wash -bottom.</p> - -<p>“Mother says he’s part cat,” she remarked. “I wish -he could jump like the Apache!”</p> - -<p>The man stroked the glossy neck of his own mount.</p> - -<p>“He never will,” he said. “He’s afraid. The Apache -is absolutely fearless; he’d go anywhere I’d ride him. -He’s been mired with me twice, but he never refuses -a wet spot; and that’s a test, I say, of a horse’s courage.”</p> - -<p>They had reached a place where the bank was broken -down, and the girl’s horse scrambled from the wash.</p> - -<p>“Maybe he’s like his rider,” suggested the girl, looking -at the Apache; “brave, but reckless.”</p> - -<p>“It was worse than reckless,” said the man. “It was -asinine. I shouldn’t have led you over the jump when -I know how badly Senator jumps.”</p> - -<p>“And you wouldn’t have, Custer”—she <span class="locked">hesitated—“if——”</span></p> - -<p>“If I hadn’t been drinking,” he finished for her. “I -know what you were going to say, Grace; but I think -you’re wrong. I never drink enough to show it. No -one ever saw me that way—not so that it was noticeable.”</p> - -<p>“It is always noticeable to me and to your mother,” she -corrected him gently. “We always know it, Custer. It -shows in little things like what you did just now. Oh, -it isn’t anything, I know, dear; but we who love you -wish you didn’t do it quite so often.”</p> - -<p>“It’s funny,” he said, “but I never cared for it until<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> -it became a risky thing to get it. Oh, well, what’s the -use? I’ll quit it if you say so. It hasn’t any hold on -me.”</p> - -<p>Involuntarily he squared his shoulders—an unconscious -tribute to the strength of his weakness.</p> - -<p>Together, their stirrups touching, they rode slowly -down the cañon trail toward the ranch. Often they rode -thus, in the restful silence that is a birthright of comradeship. -Neither spoke until after they reined in their -sweating horses beneath the cool shade of the spreading -sycamore that guards the junction of El Camino Largo -and the main trail that winds up Sycamore Cañon.</p> - -<p>It was the first day of early spring. The rains were -over. The California hills were green and purple and -gold. The new leaves lay softly fresh on the gaunt -boughs of yesterday. A blue jay scolded from a clump -of sumac across the trail.</p> - -<p>The girl pointed up into the cloudless sky, where -several great birds circled majestically, rising and falling -upon motionless wings.</p> - -<p>“The vultures are back,” she said. “I am always glad -to see them come again.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the man. “They are bully scavengers, and -we don’t have to pay ’em wages.”</p> - -<p>The girl smiled up at him.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid my thoughts were more poetic than practical,” -she said. “I was only thinking that the sky looked -less lonely now that they have come. Why suggest their -diet?”</p> - -<p>“I know what you mean,” he said. “I like them, too. -Maligned as they are, they are really wonderful birds, -and sort of mysterious. Did you ever stop to think that -you never see a very young one or a dead one? Where -do they die? Where do they grow to maturity? I -wonder what they’ve found up there! Let’s ride up. -Martin said he saw a new calf up beyond Jackknife -Cañon yesterday. That would be just about under where -they’re circling now.”</p> - -<p>They guided their horses around a large, flat slab of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> -rock that some camper had contrived into a table beneath -the sycamore, and started across the trail toward the opposite -side of the cañon. They were in the middle of the -trail when the man drew in and listened.</p> - -<p>“Some one is coming,” he said. “Let’s wait and see -who it is. I haven’t sent any one back into the hills -to-day.”</p> - -<p>“I have an idea,” remarked the girl, “that there is more -going on up there”—she nodded toward the mountains -stretching to the south of them—“than you know about.”</p> - -<p>“How is that?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“So often recently we have heard horsemen passing -the ranch late at night. If they weren’t going to stop at -your place, those who rode up the trail must have been -headed into the high hills; but I’m sure that those whom -we heard coming down weren’t coming from the Rancho -del Ganado.”</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, “not late at night—or not often, at any -rate.”</p> - -<p>The footsteps of a cantering horse drew rapidly closer, -and presently the animal and its rider came into view -around a turn in the trail.</p> - -<p>“It’s only Allen,” said the girl.</p> - -<p>The newcomer reined in at sight of the man and the -girl. He was evidently surprised, and the girl thought -that he seemed ill at ease.</p> - -<p>“Just givin’ Baldy a work-out,” he explained. “He ain’t -been out for three or four days, an’ you told me to work -’em out if I had time.”</p> - -<p>Custer Pennington nodded.</p> - -<p>“See any stock back there?”</p> - -<p>“No. How’s the Apache to-day—forgin’ as bad as -usual?”</p> - -<p>Pennington shook his head negatively.</p> - -<p>“That fellow shod him yesterday just the way I want -him shod. I wish you’d take a good look at his shoes, -Slick, so you can see that he’s always shod this same way.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span> -His eyes had been traveling over Slick’s mount, whose -heaving sides were covered with lather. “Baldy’s pretty -soft, Slick; I wouldn’t work him too hard all at once. Get -him up to it gradually.”</p> - -<p>He turned and rode off with the girl at his side. Slick -Allen looked after them for a moment, and then moved -his horse off at a slow walk toward the ranch. He was -a lean, sinewy man, of medium height. He might have -been a cavalryman once. He sat his horse, even at a walk, -like one who has sweated and bled under a drill sergeant -in the days of his youth.</p> - -<p>“How do you like him?” the girl asked of Pennington.</p> - -<p>“He’s a good horseman, and good horsemen are getting -rare these days,” replied Pennington; “but I don’t know -that I’d choose him for a playmate. Don’t you like -him?”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I don’t. His eyes give me the creeps—they’re -like a fish’s.”</p> - -<p>“To tell the truth, Grace, I don’t like him,” said -Custer. “He’s one of those rare birds—a good horseman -who doesn’t love horses. I imagine he won’t last long on -the Rancho del Ganado; but we’ve got to give him a fair -shake—he’s only been with us a few weeks.”</p> - -<p>They were picking their way toward the summit of -a steep hogback. The man, who led, was seeking carefully -for the safest footing, shamed out of his recent -recklessness by the thought of how close the girl -had come to a serious accident through his thoughtlessness. -They rode along the hogback until they could look -down into a tiny basin where a small bunch of cattle -was grazing, and then, turning and dipping over the -edge, they dropped slowly toward the animals.</p> - -<p>Near the bottom of the slope they came upon a white-faced -bull standing beneath the spreading shade of a live -oak. He turned his woolly face toward them, his red-rimmed -eyes observing them dispassionately for a moment. -Then he turned away again and resumed his cud, disdaining -further notice of them.</p> - -<p>“That’s the King of Ganado, isn’t it?” asked the girl.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span></p> - -<p>“Looks like him, doesn’t he? But he isn’t. He’s the -King’s likeliest son, and unless I’m mistaken he’s going -to give the old fellow a mighty tough time of it this fall, -if the old boy wants to hang on to the grand championship. -We’ve never shown him yet. It’s an idea of father’s. -He’s always wanted to spring a new champion at a great -show and surprise the world. He’s kept this fellow hidden -away ever since he gave the first indication that he was -going to be a fine bull. At least a hundred breeders have -visited the herd in the past year, and not one of them -has seen him. Father says he’s the greatest bull that ever -lived, and that his first show is going to be the International.”</p> - -<p>“I just know he’ll win,” exclaimed the girl. “Why look -at him! Isn’t he a beauty?”</p> - -<p>“Got a back like a billiard table,” commented Custer -proudly.</p> - -<p>They rode down among the heifers. There were a -dozen beauties—three-year-olds. Hidden to one side, behind -a small bush, the man’s quick eyes discerned a little -bundle of red and white.</p> - -<p>“There it is, Grace,” he called, and the two rode toward -it.</p> - -<p>One of the heifers looked fearfully toward them, then -at the bush, and finally walked toward it, lowing plaintively.</p> - -<p>“We’re not going to hurt it, little girl,” the man assured -her.</p> - -<p>As they came closer, there arose a thing of long, -wabbly legs, big joints, and great, dark eyes, its spotless -coat of red and white shining with health and life.</p> - -<p>“The cunning thing!” cried the girl. “How I’d like -to squeeze it! I just love ’em, Custer!”</p> - -<p>She had slipped from her saddle, and, dropping her -reins on the ground, was approaching the calf.</p> - -<p>“Look out for the cow!” cried the man, as he dismounted -and moved forward to the girl’s side, with his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -arm through the Apache’s reins. “She hasn’t been up -much, and she may be a little wild.”</p> - -<p>The calf stood its ground for a moment, and then, -with tail erect, cavorted madly for its mother, behind -whom it took refuge.</p> - -<p>“I just love ’em! I just love ’em!” repeated the girl.</p> - -<p>“You say the same thing about the colts and the little -pigs,” the man reminded her.</p> - -<p>“I love ’em all!” she cried, shaking her head, her eyes -twinkling.</p> - -<p>“You love them because they’re little and helpless, -just like babies,” he said. “Oh, Grace, how you’d love -a baby!”</p> - -<p>The girl flushed prettily. Quite suddenly he seized her -in his arms and crushed her to him, smothering her with -a long kiss. Breathless, she wriggled partially away, but -he still held her in his arms.</p> - -<p>“Why won’t you, Grace?” he begged. “There’ll never -be anybody else for me or for you. Father and mother -and Eva love you almost as much as I do, and on your -side your mother and Guy have always seemed to take -it as a matter of course that we’d marry. It isn’t the -drinking, is it, dear?”</p> - -<p>“No, it’s not that, Custer. Of course I’ll marry you—some -day; but not yet. Why, I haven’t lived yet, -Custer! I want to live. I want to do something outside -of the humdrum life that I have always led and the -humdrum life that I shall live as a wife and mother. I -want to live a little, Custer, and then I’ll be ready to -settle down. You all tell me that I am beautiful, and -down, away down in the depth of my soul, I feel that I -have talent. If I have, I ought to use the gifts God has -given me.”</p> - -<p>She was speaking very seriously, and the man listened -patiently and with respect, for he realized that she was -revealing for the first time a secret yearning that she -must have long held locked in her bosom.</p> - -<p>“Just what do you want to do, dear?” he asked gently.</p> - -<p>“I—oh, it seems silly when I try to put it in words, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span> -in dreams it is very beautiful and very real.”</p> - -<p>“The stage?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“It is just like you to understand!” Her smile rewarded -him. “Will you help me? I know mother will -object.”</p> - -<p>“You want me to help you take all the happiness out -of my life?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“It would only be for a little while—just a few years, -and then I would come back to you—after I had made -good.”</p> - -<p>“You would never come back, Grace, unless you failed,” -he said. “If you succeeded, you would never be contented -in any other life or atmosphere. If you came -back a failure, you couldn’t help but carry a little bitterness -always in your heart. It would never be the same -dear, care-free heart that went away so gayly. Here -you have a real part to play in a real drama—not make-believe -upon a narrow stage with painted drops.” He -flung out a hand in broad gesture. “Look at the setting -that God has painted here for us to play our parts in—the -parts that He has chosen for us! Your mother played -upon the same stage, and mine. Do you think them failures? -And both were beautiful girls—as beautiful as -you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but you don’t understand, after all, Custer!” she -cried. “I thought you did.”</p> - -<p>“I do understand that for your sake I must do my -best to persuade you that you have as full a life before -you here as upon the stage. I am fighting first for -your happiness, Grace, and then for mine. If I fail, then -I shall do all that I can to help you realize your ambition. -If you cannot stay because you are convinced that you -will be happier here, then I do not want you to stay.”</p> - -<p>“Kiss me,” she demanded suddenly. “I am only -thinking of it, anyway, so let’s not worry until there is -something to worry about.”</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">The</span> man bent his lips to hers again, and her arms -stole about his neck. The calf, in the meantime, perhaps -disgusted by such absurdities, had scampered off to try -his brand-new legs again, with the result that he ran into -a low bush, turned a somersault, and landed on his back. -The mother, still doubtful of the intentions of the newcomers, -to whose malevolent presence she may have attributed -the accident, voiced a perturbed low; whereupon -there broke from the vicinity of the live oak a deep note, -not unlike the rumbling of distant thunder.</p> - -<p>The man looked up.</p> - -<p>“I think we’ll be going,” he said. “The Emperor has -issued an ultimatum.”</p> - -<p>“Or a bull, perhaps,” Grace suggested, as they walked -quickly toward her horse.</p> - -<p>“Awful!” he commented, as he assisted her into the -saddle.</p> - -<p>Then he swung to his own.</p> - -<p>The Emperor moved majestically toward them, his -nose close to the ground. Occasionally he stopped, pawing -the earth and throwing dust upon his broad back.</p> - -<p>“Doesn’t he look wicked?” cried the girl. “Just look -at those eyes!”</p> - -<p>“He’s just an old bluffer,” replied the man. “However, -I’d rather have you in the saddle, for you can’t -always be sure just what they’ll do. We must call his -bluff, though; it would never do to run from him—might -give him bad habits.”</p> - -<p>He rode toward the advancing animal, breaking into -a canter as he drew near the bull, and striking his booted -leg with a quirt.</p> - -<p>“Hi, there, you old reprobate! Beat it!” he cried.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span></p> - -<p>The bull stood his ground with lowered head and -rumbled threats until the horseman was almost upon him; -then he turned quickly aside as the rider went past.</p> - -<p>“That’s better,” remarked Custer, as the girl joined him.</p> - -<p>“You’re not a bit afraid of him, are you, Custer? -You’re not afraid of anything.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he demurred. “I learned -a long time ago that most encounters consist principally of -bluff. Maybe I’ve just grown to be a good bluffer. Anyhow, -I’m a better bluffer than the Emperor. If the -rascal had only known it, he could have run me ragged.”</p> - -<p>As they rode up the side of the basin, the man’s eyes -moved constantly from point to point, now noting the -condition of the pasture grasses, or again searching the -more distant hills. Presently they alighted upon a thin, -wavering line of brown, which zigzagged down the opposite -side of the basin from a clump of heavy brush -that partially hid a small ravine, and crossed the meadow -ahead of them.</p> - -<p>“There’s a new trail, Grace, and it don’t belong there. -Let’s go and take a look at it.”</p> - -<p>They rode ahead until they reached the trail, at a -point where it crossed the bottom of the basin and -started up the side they had been ascending. The man -leaned above his horse’s shoulder and examined the -trampled turf.</p> - -<p>“Horses,” he said. “I thought so, and it’s been used a -lot this winter. You can see even now where the animals -slipped and floundered after the heavy rains.”</p> - -<p>“But you don’t run horses in this pasture, do you?” -asked the girl.</p> - -<p>“No; and we haven’t run anything in it since last -summer. This is the only bunch in it, and they were -just turned in about a week ago. Anyway, the horses -that made this trail were mostly shod. Now what in -the world is anybody going up there for?” His eyes -wandered to the heavy brush into which the trail disappeared<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -upon the opposite rim of the basin. “I’ll have -to follow that up to-morrow—it’s too late to do it to-day.”</p> - -<p>“We can follow it the other way, toward the ranch,” -she suggested.</p> - -<p>They found the trail wound up the hillside and crossed -the hogback in heavy brush, which, in many places, had -been cut away to allow the easier passage of a horseman.</p> - -<p>“Do you see,” asked Custer, as they drew rein at the -summit of the ridge, “that although the trail crosses here -in plain sight of the ranch house, the brush would absolutely -conceal a horseman from the view of any one at -the house? It must run right down into Jackknife Cañon. -Funny none of us have noticed it, for there’s scarcely -a week that that trail isn’t ridden by some of us!”</p> - -<p>As they descended into the cañon, they discovered -why that end of the new trail had not been noticed. It -ran deep and well marked through the heavy brush of a -gully to a place where the brush commenced to thin, and -there it branched into a dozen dim trails that joined and -blended with the old, well worn cattle paths of the hillside.</p> - -<p>“Somebody’s mighty foxy,” observed the man; “but I -don’t see what it’s all about. The days of cattle runners -and bandits are over.”</p> - -<p>“Just imagine!” exclaimed the girl. “A real mystery -in our lazy, old hills!”</p> - -<p>The man rode in silence and in thought. A herd of -pure-bred Herefords, whose value would have ransomed -half the crowned heads remaining in Europe, grazed in -the several pastures that ran far back into those hills; -and back there somewhere that trail led, but for what -purpose? No good purpose, he was sure, or it had not -been so cleverly hidden.</p> - -<p>As they came to the trail which they called the Camino -Corto, where it commenced at the gate leading from the -old goat corral, the man jerked his thumb toward the -west along it.</p> - -<p>“They must come and go this way,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps they’re the ones mother and I have heard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -passing at night,” suggested the girl. “If they are, they -come right through your property, below the house—not -this way.”</p> - -<p>He opened the gate from the saddle and they passed -through, crossing the <i xml:lang="es" lang="es">barranco</i>, and stopping for a moment -to look at the pigs and talk with the herdsman. -Then they rode on toward the ranch house, a half mile -farther down the widening cañon. It stood upon the -summit of a low hill, the declining sun transforming its -plastered walls, its cupolas, the sturdy arches of its -arcades, into the semblance of a Moorish castle.</p> - -<p>At the foot of the hill they dismounted at the saddle -horse stable, tied their horses, and ascended the long flight -of rough concrete steps toward the house. As they -rounded the wild sumac bush at the summit, they were -espied by those sitting in the patio, around three sides -of which the house was built.</p> - -<p>“Oh, here they are now!” exclaimed Mrs. Pennington. -“We were so afraid that Grace would ride right -on home, Custer. We had just persuaded Mrs. Evans -to stay for dinner. Guy is coming, too.”</p> - -<p>“Mother, you here, too?” cried the girl. “How nice -and cool it is in here! It would save a lot of trouble if -we brought our things, mother.”</p> - -<p>“We are hoping that at least one of you will, very -soon,” said Colonel Pennington, who had risen, and now -put an arm affectionately about the girl’s shoulders.</p> - -<p>“That’s what I’ve been telling her again this afternoon,” -said Custer; “but instead she wants <span class="locked">to——”</span></p> - -<p>The girl turned toward him with a little frown and -shake of her head.</p> - -<p>“You’d better run down and tell Allen that we won’t -use the horses until after dinner,” she said.</p> - -<p>He grimaced good-naturedly and turned away.</p> - -<p>“I’ll have him take Senator home,” he said. “I can -drive you and your mother down in the car, when you -leave.”</p> - -<p>As he descended the steps that wound among the umbrella<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span> -trees, taking on their new foliage, he saw Allen -examining the Apache’s shoes. As he neared them, -the horse pulled away from the man, his suddenly -lowered hoof striking Allen’s instep. With an oath the -fellow stepped back and swung a vicious kick to the animal’s -belly. Almost simultaneously a hand fell heavily -upon his shoulder. He was jerked roughly back, whirled -about, and sent spinning a dozen feet away, where he -stumbled and fell. As he scrambled to his feet, white -with rage, he saw the younger Pennington before -him.</p> - -<p>“Go to the office and get your time,” ordered Pennington.</p> - -<p>“I’ll get you first, you son of <span class="locked">a——”</span></p> - -<p>A hard fist connecting suddenly with his chin put a -painful period to his sentence before it was completed, -and stopped his mad rush.</p> - -<p>“I’d be more careful of my conversation, Allen, if I -were you,” said Pennington quietly. “Just because you’ve -been drinking is no excuse for <em>that</em>. Now go on up to -the office, as I told you to.”</p> - -<p>He had caught the odor of whisky as he jerked the -man past him.</p> - -<p>“You goin’ to can me for drinkin’—<em>you?</em>” demanded -Allen.</p> - -<p>“You know what I’m canning you for. You know -that’s the one thing that don’t go on Ganado. You ought -to get what you gave the Apache, and you’d better beat -it before I lose my temper and give it to you!”</p> - -<p>The man rose slowly to his feet. In his mind he was -revolving his chances of successfully renewing his attack; -but presently his judgment got the better of his desire -and his rage. He moved off slowly up the hill toward -the house. A few yards, and he turned.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t a goin’ to ferget this, <span class="locked">you—you——”</span></p> - -<p>“Be careful!” Pennington admonished.</p> - -<p>“Nor you ain’t goin’ to ferget it, neither, you fox-trottin’ -dude!”</p> - -<p>Allen turned again to the ascent of the steps. Pennington<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> -walked to the Apache and stroked his muzzle.</p> - -<p>“Old boy,” he crooned, “there don’t anybody kick you -and get away with it, does there?”</p> - -<p>Halfway up, Allen stopped and turned again.</p> - -<p>“You think you’re the whole cheese, you Penningtons, -don’t you?” he called back. “With all your money an’ -your fine friends! Fine friends, yah! I can put one -of ’em where he belongs any time I want—the darn -bootlegger! That’s what he is. You wait—you’ll see!”</p> - -<p>“A-ah, beat it!” sighed Pennington wearily.</p> - -<p>Mounting the Apache, he led Grace’s horse along the -foot of the hill toward the smaller ranch house of their -neighbor, some half mile away. Humming a little tune, -he unsaddled Senator, turned him into his corral, saw -that there was water in his trough, and emptied a measure -of oats into his manger, for the horse had cooled off since -the afternoon ride. As neither of the Evans ranch hands -appeared, he found a piece of rag and wiped off the -Senator’s bit, turned the saddle blankets wet side up to -dry, and then, leaving the stable, crossed the yard to -mount the Apache.</p> - -<p>A young man in riding clothes appeared simultaneously -from the interior of the bungalow, which stood a hundred -feet away. Crossing the wide porch, he called to -Pennington.</p> - -<p>“Hello there, Penn! What you doing?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“Just brought Senator in—Grace is up at the house. -You’re coming up there, too, Guy.”</p> - -<p>“Sure, but come in here a second. I’ve got something -to show you.”</p> - -<p>Pennington crossed the yard and entered the house -behind Grace’s brother, who conducted him to his bedroom. -Here young Evans unlocked a closet, and, after -rummaging behind some clothing, emerged with a bottle, -the shape and dimensions of which were once as familiar -in the land of the free as the benign countenance of -Lydia E. Pinkham.</p> - -<p>“It’s the genuine stuff, Penn, too!” he declared.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span></p> - -<p>Pennington smiled.</p> - -<p>“Thanks, old fellow, but I’ve quit,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Quit!” exclaimed Evans.</p> - -<p>“Yep.”</p> - -<p>“But think of it, man—aged eight years in the wood, -and bottled in bond before July 1, 1919. The real thing, -and as cheap as moonshine—only six beans a quart. Can -you believe it?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot,” admitted Pennington. “Your conversation -listens phony.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s the truth. You may have quit, but one little -snifter of this won’t hurt you. Here’s this bottle already -open—just try it”; and he proffered the bottle -and a glass to the other.</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s pretty hard to resist anything that sounds -as good as this does,” remarked Pennington. “I guess -one won’t hurt me any.” He poured himself a drink and -took it. “Wonderful!” he ejaculated.</p> - -<p>“Here,” said Evans, diving into the closet once more. -“I got you a bottle, too, and we can get more.”</p> - -<p>Pennington took the bottle and examined it, almost -caressingly.</p> - -<p>“Eight years in the wood!” he murmured. “I’ve got -to take it, Guy. Must have something to hand down to -posterity.” He drew a bill fold from his pocket and -counted out six dollars.</p> - -<p>“Thanks,” said Guy. “You’ll never regret it.”</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">As</span> the two young men climbed the hill to the big house, -a few minutes later, they found the elder Pennington -standing at the edge of the driveway that circled the hill -top, looking out toward the wide cañon and the distant -mountains. In the nearer foreground lay the stable and -corrals of the saddle horses, the hen house with its two -long alfalfa runways, and the small dairy barn accommodating -the little herd of Guernseys that supplied milk, -cream, and butter for the ranch. A quarter of a mile -beyond, among the trees, was the red-roofed “cabin” -where the unmarried ranch hands ate and slept, near the -main corrals with their barns, outhouses, and sheds.</p> - -<p>In a hilly pasture farther up the cañon the black -and iron gray of Percheron brood mares contrasted with -the greening hillsides of spring. Still farther away, the -white and red of the lordly figure of the Emperor stood -out boldly upon the summit of the ridge behind Jackknife -Cañon.</p> - -<p>The two young men joined the older, and Custer put an -arm affectionately about his father’s shoulders.</p> - -<p>“You never tire of it,” said the young man.</p> - -<p>“I have been looking at it for twenty-two years, my -son,” replied the elder Pennington, “and each year it -has become more wonderful to me. It never changes, -and yet it is never twice alike. See the purple sage -away off there, and the lighter spaces of wild buckwheat, -and here and there among the scrub oak the beautiful -pale green of the manzanita—scintillant jewels in the diadem -of the hills! And the faint haze of the mountains -that seem to throw them just a little out of focus, to make<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -them a perfect background for the beautiful hills which -the Supreme Artist is placing on his canvas to-day. -An hour from now He will paint another masterpiece, -and to-night another, and forever others, with never two -alike, nor ever one that mortal man can duplicate; and -all for us, boy, all for us, if we have the hearts and the -souls to see!”</p> - -<p>“How you love it!” said the boy.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and your mother loves it; and it is our great -happiness that you and Eva love it, too.”</p> - -<p>The boy made no reply. He did love it; but his was -the heart of youth, and it yearned for change and for -adventure and for what lay beyond the circling hills and -the broad, untroubled valley that spread its level fields -below “the castle on the hill.”</p> - -<p>“The girls are dressing for a swim,” said the older -man, after a moment of silence. “Aren’t you boys going -in?”</p> - -<p>“The girls” included his wife and Mrs. Evans, as well -as Grace, for the colonel insisted that youth was purely -a physical and mental attribute, independent of time. If -one could feel and act in accord with the spirit of -youth, one could not be old.</p> - -<p>“Are you going in?” asked his son.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I was waiting for you two.”</p> - -<p>“I think I’ll be excused, sir,” said Guy. “The water -is too cold yet. I tried it yesterday, and nearly froze to -death. I’ll come and watch.”</p> - -<p>The two Penningtons moved off toward the house, to -get into swimming things, while young Evans wandered -down into the water gardens. As he stood there, idly -content in the quiet beauty of the spot, Allen came down -the steps, his check in his hand. At sight of the boy -he halted behind him, an unpleasant expression upon his -face.</p> - -<p>Evans, suddenly aware that he was not alone, turned -and recognized the man.</p> - -<p>“Oh, hello, Allen!” he said.</p> - -<p>“Young Pennington just canned me,” said Allen, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -no other return of Evans’s greeting.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” said Evans.</p> - -<p>“You may be sorrier!” growled Allen, continuing on -his way toward the cabin to get his blankets and clothes.</p> - -<p>For a moment Guy stared after the man, a puzzled expression -knitting his brows. Then he slowly flushed, -glancing quickly about to see if any one had overheard -the brief conversation between Slick Allen and himself.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later he entered the inclosure west of -the house, where the swimming pool lay. Mrs. Pennington -and her guests were already in the pool, swimming -vigorously to keep warm, and a moment later the colonel -and Custer ran from the house and dived in simultaneously. -Though there was twenty-six years’ difference -in their ages, it was not evidenced by any lesser vitality -or agility on the part of the older man.</p> - -<p>Colonel Custer Pennington had been born in Virginia -fifty years before. Graduated from the Virginia Military -Institute and West Point, he had taken a commission in -the cavalry branch of the service. Campaigning in Cuba, -he had been shot through one lung, and shortly after the -close of the war he was retired for disability, with rank of -lieutenant colonel. In 1900 he had come to California, -on the advice of his physician in the forlorn hope that -he might prolong his sufferings a few years more.</p> - -<p>For two hundred years the Penningtons had bred fine -men, women, and horses upon the same soil in the State -whose very existence was inextricably interwoven with -their own. A Pennington leave Virginia? Horrors! -Perish the thought! But Colonel Custer Pennington had -had to leave it or die, and with a young wife and a two-year-old -boy he couldn’t afford to die. Deep in his heart -he meant to recover his health in distant California and -then return to the land of his love; but his physician had -told a mutual friend, who was also Pennington’s attorney, -that “poor old Cus” would almost undoubtedly be dead -inside of a year.</p> - -<p>And so Pennington had come West with Mrs. Pennington<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> -and little Custer, Jr., and had found the Rancho del -Ganado run down, untenanted, and for sale. A month -of loafing had left him almost ready to die of stagnation, -without any assistance from his poor lungs; and when, -in the course of a drive to another ranch, he had happened -to see the place, and had learned that it was -for sale, the germ had been sown.</p> - -<p>He judged from the soil and the water that Ganado -was not well suited to raise the type of horse that he -knew best, and that he and his father and his grandfathers -before them had bred in Virginia; but he saw -other possibilities. Moreover, he loved the hills and the -cañons from the first; and so he had purchased the ranch, -more to have something that would temporarily occupy -his mind until his period of exile was ended by a return -to his native State, or by death, than with any idea that -it would prove a permanent home.</p> - -<p>The old Spanish American house had been remodeled -and rebuilt. In four years he had found that Herefords, -Berkshires, and Percherons may win a place in a man’s -heart almost equal to that which a thoroughbred occupies. -Then a little daughter had come, and the final seal that -stamps a man’s house as his home was placed upon “the -castle on the hill.”</p> - -<p>His lung had healed—he could not tell by any sign -it gave that it was not as good as ever—and still he -stayed on in the land of sunshine, which he had grown to -love without realizing its hold upon him. Gradually -he had forgotten to say “when we go back home”; and -when at last a letter came from a younger brother, saying -that he wished to buy the old place in Virginia -if the Custer Penningtons did not expect to return -to it, the colonel was compelled to face the issue -squarely.</p> - -<p>They had held a little family council—the colonel and -Julia, his wife, with seven-year-old Custer and little one-year-old -Eva. Eva, sitting in her mother’s lap, agreed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> -with every one. Custer, Jr., burst into tears at the very -suggestion of leaving dear old Ganado.</p> - -<p>“And what do you think about it, Julia?” asked the -colonel.</p> - -<p>“I love Virginia, dear,” she had replied; “but I think -I love California even more, and I say it without disloyalty -to my own State. It’s a different kind of love.”</p> - -<p>“I know what you mean,” said her husband. “Virginia -is a mother to us, California a sweetheart.”</p> - -<p>And so they stayed upon the Rancho del Ganado.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Work</span> and play were inextricably entangled upon -Ganado, the play being of a nature that fitted them better -for their work, while the work, always in the open and -usually from the saddle, they enjoyed fully as much as -the play. While the tired business man of the city was -expending a day’s vitality and nervous energy in an -effort to escape from the turmoil of the mad rush-hour -and find a strap from which to dangle homeward amid -the toxic effluvia of the melting pot, Colonel Pennington -plunged and swam in the cold, invigorating waters of his -pool, after a day of labor fully as constructive and -profitable as theirs.</p> - -<p>“One more dive!” he called, balancing upon the end -of the springboard, “and then I’m going out. Eva ought -to be here by the time we’re dressed, hadn’t she? I’m -about famished.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t heard the train whistle yet, though it must -be due,” replied Mrs. Pennington. “You and Boy make -so much noise swimming that we’ll miss Gabriel’s trump -if we happen to be in the pool at the time!”</p> - -<p>The colonel, Custer, and Grace Evans dived simultaneously, -and, coming up together, raced for the shallow -end, where Mrs. Evans and her hostess were preparing -to leave the pool. The girl, reaching the hand rail first, -arose laughing and triumphant.</p> - -<p>“My foot slipped as I dived,” cried the younger Pennington, -wiping the water from his eyes, “or I’d have -caught you!”</p> - -<p>“No alibis, Boy!” laughed the colonel. “Grace beat -you fair and square.”</p> - -<p>“Race you back for a dollar, Grace!” challenged the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -young man.</p> - -<p>“You’re on,” she cried. “One, two, three—go!”</p> - -<p>They were off. The colonel, who had preceded them -leisurely into the deep water, swam close to his son as -the latter was passing, a yard in the lead. Simultaneously -the young man’s progress ceased. With a Comanche-like -yell he turned upon his father, and the two men grappled -and went down. When they came up, spluttering and -laughing, the girl was climbing out of the pool.</p> - -<p>“You win, Grace!” shouted the colonel.</p> - -<p>“It’s a frame-up!” cried Custer. “He grabbed me -by the ankle!”</p> - -<p>“Well, who had a better right?” demanded the girl. -“He’s referee.”</p> - -<p>“He’s a fine mess for a referee!” grumbled Custer -good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>“Run along and get your dollar, and pay up like a -gentleman,” admonished his father.</p> - -<p>“What do you get out of it? What do you pay him, -Grace?”</p> - -<p>They were still bantering as they entered the house -and sought their several rooms to dress.</p> - -<p>Guy Evans strolled from the walled garden of the -swimming pool to the open arch that broke the long -pergola beneath which the driveway ran along the north -side of the house. Here he had an unobstructed view of -the broad valley stretching away to the mountains in the -distance.</p> - -<p>Down the center of the valley a toy train moved noiselessly. -As he watched it, he saw a puff of white rise -from the tiny engine. It rose and melted in the evening -air before the thin, clear sound of the whistle reached his -ears. The train crawled behind the green of trees and -disappeared.</p> - -<p>He knew that it had stopped at the station, and that a -slender, girlish figure was alighting, with a smile for the -porter and a gay word for the conductor who had carried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -her back and forth for years upon her occasional -visits to the city a hundred miles away. Now the chauffeur -was taking her bag and carrying it to the roadster -that she would drive home along the wide, straight boulevard -that crossed the valley—utterly ruining a number -of perfectly good speed laws.</p> - -<p>Two minutes elapsed, and the train crawled out from -behind the trees and continued its way up the valley—a -little black caterpillar with spots of yellow twinkling along -its sides. As twilight deepened, the lights from ranch -houses and villages sprinkled the floor of the valley. Like -jewels scattered from a careless hand, they fell singly -and in little clusters; and then the stars, serenely superior, -came forth to assure the glory of a perfect California -night.</p> - -<p>The headlights of a motor car turned in at the driveway. -Guy went to the east porch and looked in at the -living room door, where some of the family had already -collected.</p> - -<p>“Eva’s coming!” he announced.</p> - -<p>She had been gone since the day before, but she might -have been returning from a long trip abroad, if every -one’s eagerness to greet her was any criterion. Unlike -city dwellers, these people had never learned to conceal -the lovelier emotions of their hearts behind a mask of -assumed indifference. Perhaps the fact that they were -not forever crowded shoulder to shoulder with strangers -permitted them an enjoyable naturalness which the -dweller in the wholesale districts of humanity can never -know; for what a man may reveal of his heart among -friends he hides from the unsympathetic eyes of others, -though it may be the noblest of his possessions.</p> - -<p>With a rush the car topped the hill, swung up the -driveway, and stopped at the corner of the house. A -door flew open, and the girl leaped from the driver’s -seat.</p> - -<p>“Hello, everybody!” she cried.</p> - -<p>Snatching a kiss from her brother as she passed him,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -she fairly leaped upon her mother, hugging, kissing, -laughing, dancing, and talking all at once. Espying her -father, she relinquished a disheveled and laughing mother -and dived for him.</p> - -<p>“Most adorable pops!” she cried, as he caught her in -his arms. “Are you glad to have your little nuisance -back? I’ll bet you’re not. Do you love me? You won’t -when you know how much I’ve spent, but oh, popsy, -I had <em>such</em> a good time! That’s all there was to it, and -oh, momsie, who, who, <em>who</em> do you suppose I met? Oh, -you’d never guess—never, never!”</p> - -<p>“Whom did you meet?” asked her mother.</p> - -<p>“Yes, little one, <em>whom</em> did you meet?” inquired her -brother.</p> - -<p>“And he’s perfectly <em>gorgeous</em>,” continued the girl, as -if there had been no interruption; “and I danced with -him—oh, such <em>divine</em> dancing! Oh, Guy Evans! Why -how do you do? I never saw you.”</p> - -<p>The young man nodded glumly.</p> - -<p>“How are you, Eva?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Evans is here, too, dear,” her mother reminded -her.</p> - -<p>The girl curtsied before her mother’s guest, and then -threw her arm about the older woman’s neck.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Aunt Mae!” she cried. “I’m <em>so</em> excited; but you -should have <em>seen</em> him, and, momsie, I got the <em>cutest</em> riding -hat!” They were moving toward the living room -door, which Guy was holding open. “Guy, I got you the -splendiferousest Christmas present!”</p> - -<p>“Help!” cried her brother, collapsing into a porch -chair. “Don’t you know that I have a weak heart? Do -your Christmas shopping early—do it in April! Oh, -Lord, can you beat it?” he demanded of the others. “Can -you beat it?”</p> - -<p>“I think it was mighty nice of Eva to remember me at -all,” said Guy, thawing perceptibly.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” asked Custer. “I’ll bet you got him a -pipe.”</p> - -<p>“How ever in the world did you guess?” demanded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> -Eva.</p> - -<p>Custer rocked from side to side in his chair, laughing.</p> - -<p>“What are you laughing at? Idiot!” cried the girl. -“How did you guess I got him a pipe?”</p> - -<p>“Because he never smokes anything but cigarettes.”</p> - -<p>“You’re horrid!”</p> - -<p>He pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her.</p> - -<p>“Dear little one!” he cried. Taking her head between -his hands, he shook it. “Hear ’em rattle!”</p> - -<p>“But I love a pipe,” stated Guy emphatically. “The -trouble is, I never had a really nice one before.”</p> - -<p>“There!” exclaimed the girl triumphantly. “And you -know <em>Sherlock Holmes</em> always smoked a pipe.”</p> - -<p>Her brother knitted his brows.</p> - -<p>“I don’t quite connect,” he announced.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you need a diagram, isn’t Guy an author?” -she demanded.</p> - -<p>“Not so that any one could notice it—yet,” demurred -Evans.</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re going to be!” said the girl proudly.</p> - -<p>“The light is commencing to dawn,” announced her -brother. “<em>Sherlock Holmes</em>, the famous author, who wrote -Conan Doyle!”</p> - -<p>A blank expression overspread the girl’s face, to be -presently expunged by a slow smile.</p> - -<p>“You are perfectly horrid!” she cried. “I’m going -in to dapper up a bit for dinner—don’t wait.”</p> - -<p>She danced through the living room and out into the -patio toward her own rooms.</p> - -<p>“Rattle, rattle, little brain; rattle, rattle round again,” -her brother called after her. “Can you beat her?” he -added, to the others.</p> - -<p>“She can’t even be approximated,” laughed the colonel. -“In all the world there is only one of her.”</p> - -<p>“And she’s ours, bless her!” said the brother.</p> - -<p>The colonel was glancing over the headlines of an -afternoon paper that Eva had brought from the city.</p> - -<p>“What’s new?” asked Custer.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span></p> - -<p>“Same old rot,” replied his father. “Murders, divorces, -kidnapers, bootleggers, and they haven’t even the originality -to make them interesting by evolving new methods. -Oh, hold on—this isn’t so bad! ‘Two hundred thousand -dollars’ worth of stolen whisky landed on coast,’ he read. -‘Prohibition enforcement agents, together with special -agents from the Treasury Department, are working on a -unique theory that may reveal the whereabouts of the -fortune in bonded whisky stolen from a government warehouse -in New York a year ago. All that was known -until recently was that the whisky was removed from the -warehouse in trucks in broad daylight, compassing one -of the boldest robberies ever committed in New York. -Now, from a source which they refuse to divulge, the -government sleuths have received information which -leads them to believe that the liquid loot was loaded -aboard a sailing vessel, and after a long trip around the -Horn, is lying somewhere off the coast of southern -California. That it is being lightered ashore in launches -and transported to some hiding place in the mountains -is one theory upon which the government is working. -The whisky is eleven years old, was bottled in bond -three years ago, just before the Eighteenth Amendment -became a harrowing reality. It will go hard with the -traffickers in this particular parcel of wet goods if they -are apprehended, since the theft was directly from a -government bonded warehouse, and all government officials -concerned in the search are anxious to make an -example of the guilty parties.’</p> - -<p>“Eleven years old!” sighed the colonel. “It makes -my mouth water! I’ve been subsisting on home-made -grape wine for over a year. Think of it—a Pennington! -Why, my ancestors must be writhing in their Virginia -graves!”</p> - -<p>“On the contrary, they’re probably laughing in their -sleeves. They died before July 1, 1919,” interposed -Custer. “Eleven years old—eight years in the wood,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span> -he mused aloud, shooting a quick glance in the direction -of Guy Evans, who suddenly became deeply interested in -a novel lying on a table beside his chair, notwithstanding -the fact that he had read it six months before and hadn’t -liked it. “And it will go hard with the traffickers, too,” -continued young Pennington. “Well, I should hope it -would. They’ll probably hang ’em, the vile miscreants!”</p> - -<p>Guy had risen and walked to the doorway opening upon -the patio.</p> - -<p>“I wonder what is keeping Eva,” he remarked.</p> - -<p>“Getting hungry?” asked Mrs. Pennington. “Well, I -guess we all are. Suppose we don’t wait any longer? -Eva won’t mind.”</p> - -<p>“If I wait much longer,” observed the colonel, “some -one will have to carry me into the dining room.”</p> - -<p>As they crossed the library toward the dining room -the two young men walked behind their elders.</p> - -<p>“Is your appetite still good?” inquired Custer.</p> - -<p>“Shut up!” retorted Evans. “You give me a pain.”</p> - -<p>They had finished their soup before Eva joined them, -and after the men were reseated they took up the conversation -where it had been interrupted. As usual, if not -always brilliant, it was at least diversified, for it included -many subjects from grand opera to the budding -of English walnuts on the native wild stock, and from -the latest novel to the most practical method of earmarking -pigs. Paintings, poems, plays, pictures, people, -horses, and home-brew—each came in for a share of the -discussion, argument, and raillery that ran round the -table.</p> - -<p>During a brief moment when she was not engaged in -conversation, Guy seized the opportunity to whisper to -Eva, who sat next to him.</p> - -<p>“Who was that bird you met in L.A.?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Which one?”</p> - -<p>“Which one! How many did you meet?”</p> - -<p>“Oodles of them.”</p> - -<p>“I mean the one you were ranting about.”</p> - -<p>“Which one was I ranting about? I don’t remember.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span></p> - -<p>“You’re enough to drive anybody to drink, Eva -Pennington!” cried the young man disgustedly.</p> - -<p>“Radiant man!” she cooed. “What’s the dapper little -idea in that talented brain—jealous?”</p> - -<p>“I want to know who he is,” demanded Guy.</p> - -<p>“Who who is?”</p> - -<p>“You know perfectly well who I mean—the poor fish -you were raving about before dinner. You said you -danced with him. Who is he? That’s what I want to -know.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like the way you talk to me; but if you must -know, he was the most dazzling thing you ever saw. -<span class="locked">He——”</span></p> - -<p>“I never saw him, and I don’t want to, and I don’t -care how dazzling he is. I only want to know his name.”</p> - -<p>“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? His -name’s Wilson Crumb.” Her tone was as of one who -says: “Behold Alexander the Great!”</p> - -<p>“Wilson Crumb! Who’s he?”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to sit there and tell me that you don’t -know who Wilson Crumb is, Guy Evans?” she -demanded.</p> - -<p>“Never heard of him,” he insisted.</p> - -<p>“Never heard of Wilson Crumb, the famous actor-director? -Such ignorance!”</p> - -<p>“Did you ever hear of him before this trip to L.A.?” -inquired her brother from across the table. “I never -heard you mention him before.”</p> - -<p>“Well, maybe I didn’t,” admitted the girl; “but he’s -the most dazzling dancer you ever saw—and such eyes! -And maybe he’ll come out to the ranch and bring his -company. He said they were often looking for just such -locations.”</p> - -<p>“And I suppose you invited him?” demanded Custer -accusingly.</p> - -<p>“And why not? I had to be polite, didn’t I?”</p> - -<p>“You know perfectly well that father has never permitted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> -such a thing,” insisted her brother, looking toward -the colonel for support.</p> - -<p>“He didn’t ask father—he asked me,” returned the -girl.</p> - -<p>“You see,” said the colonel, “how simply Eva solves -every little problem.”</p> - -<p>“But you know, popsy, how perfectly superb it would -be to have them take some pictures right here on our very -own ranch, where we could watch them all day long.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” growled Custer; “watch them wreck the furniture -and demolish the lawns! Why, one bird of a director -ran a troop of cavalry over one of the finest lawns -in Hollywood. Then they’ll go up in the hills and -chase the cattle over the top into the ocean. I’ve heard all -about them. I’d never allow one of ’em on the place.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe they’re not all inconsiderate and careless,” suggested -Mrs. Pennington.</p> - -<p>“You remember there was a company took a few -scenes at my place a year or so ago,” interjected Mrs. -Evans. “They were very nice indeed.”</p> - -<p>“They were just wonderful,” said Grace Evans. “I -hope the colonel lets them come. It would be piles of -fun!”</p> - -<p>“You can’t tell anything about them,” volunteered -Guy. “I understand they pick up all sorts of riffraff -for extra people—I.W.W.’s and all sorts of people like -that. I’d be afraid.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head dubiously.</p> - -<p>“The trouble with you two is,” asserted Eva, “that -you’re afraid to let us girls see any nice-looking actors -from the city. That’s what’s the matter with you!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, they’re jealous,” agreed Mrs. Pennington, -laughing.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Custer, “if there are leading men there -are leading ladies, and from what I’ve seen of them the -leading ladies are better-looking than the leading men. -By all means, now that I consider the matter, let them -come. Invite them at once, for a month—wire them!”</p> - -<p>“Silly!” cried his sister. “He may not come here at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> -all. He just mentioned it casually.”</p> - -<p>“And all this tempest in a teapot for nothing,” said -the colonel.</p> - -<p>Wilson Crumb was forthwith dropped from the conversation -and forgotten by all, even by impressionable -little Eva.</p> - -<p>As the young people gathered around Mrs. Pennington -at the piano in the living room, Mrs. Evans and Colonel -Pennington sat apart, carrying on a desultory conversation -while they listened to the singing.</p> - -<p>“We have a new neighbor,” remarked Mrs. Evans, -“on the ten-acre orchard adjoining us on the west.”</p> - -<p>“Yes—Mrs. Burke. She has moved in, has she?” inquired -the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Yesterday. She is a widow from the East—has a -daughter in Los Angeles, I believe.”</p> - -<p>“She came to see me about a month ago,” said the -colonel, “to ask my advice about the purchase of the -property. She seemed rather a refined, quiet little body. -I must tell Julia—she will want to call on her.”</p> - -<p>“I insisted on her taking dinner with us last night,” -said Mrs. Evans. “She seems very frail, and was all -worn out. Unpacking and settling is trying enough for -a robust person, and she seems so delicate that I really -don’t see how she stood it all.”</p> - -<p>Then the conversation drifted to other topics until the -party at the piano broke up and Eva came dancing over -to her father.</p> - -<p>“Gorgeous popsy!” she cried, seizing him by an arm. -“Just one dance before bedtime—if you love me, just -one!”</p> - -<p>Colonel Pennington rose from his chair, laughing.</p> - -<p>“I know your one dance, you little fraud—five fox-trots, -three one-steps, and a waltz.”</p> - -<p>With his arms about each other they started for the -ballroom—really a big play room, which adjoined the -garage. Behind them, laughing and talking, came the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -two older women, the two sons, and Grace Evans. They -would dance for an hour and then go to bed, for they -rose early and were in the saddle before sunrise, living -their happy, care-free life far from the strife and squalor -of the big cities, and yet with more of the comforts and -luxuries than most city dwellers ever achieve.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">The</span> bungalow at 1421 Vista del Paso was of the new -school of Hollywood architecture, which appears to be a -hysterical effort to combine Queen Anne, Italian, Swiss -chalet, Moorish, Mission, and Martian. Its plaster walls -were of a yellowish rose, the outside woodwork being -done in light blue, while the windows were shaded with -striped awnings of olive and pink. On one side of the -entrance rose a green pergola—the ambitious atrocity that -marks the meeting place of landscape gardening and -architecture, and that outrages them both. Culture has -found a virus for the cast iron dogs, deer, and rabbits -that ramped in immobility upon the lawns of yesteryear, -but the green pergola is an incurable disease.</p> - -<p>Connecting with the front of the house, a plaster wall -continued across the narrow lot to the property line at -one side and from there back to the alley, partially inclosing -a patio—which is Hollywood for back-yard. -An arched gateway opened into the patio from the front. -The gate was of rough redwood boards, and near the -top there were three auger holes arranged in the form of -a triangle—this was art. Upon the yellow-rose plaster -above the arch a design of three monkeys was stenciled in -purple—this also was art.</p> - -<p>As you wait in the three-foot-square vestibule you -notice that the floor is paved with red brick set in black -mortar, and that the Oregon pine door, with its mahogany -stain, would have been beautiful in its severe -simplicity but for the little square of plate glass set in -the upper right hand corner, demonstrating conclusively -the daring originality of the artist architect.</p> - -<p>Presently your ring is answered, and the door is opened<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -by a Japanese “schoolboy” of thirty-five in a white coat. -You are ushered directly into a living room, whereupon -you forget all about architects and art, for the room is -really beautiful, even though a trifle heavy in an Oriental -way, with its Chinese rugs, dark hangings, and ponderous, -overstuffed furniture. The Japanese schoolboy, -who knows you, closes the door behind you and then tiptoes -silently from the room.</p> - -<p>Across from you, on a divan, a woman is lying, her -face buried among pillows. When you cough, she raises -her face toward you, and you see that it is very beautiful, -even though the eyes are a bit wide and staring and the -expression somewhat haggard. You see a mass of black -hair surrounding a face of perfect contour. Even the -plucked and penciled brows, the rouged cheeks, and carmined -lips cannot hide a certain dignity and sweetness.</p> - -<p>At sight of you she rises, a bit unsteadily, and, smiling -with her lips, extends a slender hand in greeting. The -fingers of the hand tremble and are stained with nicotine. -Her eyes do not smile—ever.</p> - -<p>“The same as usual?” she asks in a weary voice.</p> - -<p>Your throat is very dry. You swallow before you assure -her eagerly, almost feverishly, that her surmise is -correct. She leaves the room. Probably you have not -noticed that she is wild-eyed and haggard, or that her -fingers are stained and trembling, for you, too, are wild-eyed -and haggard, and you are trembling worse than she.</p> - -<p>Presently she returns. In her left hand is a small -glass phial, containing many little tablets. As she crosses -to you, she extends her right hand with the palm up. -It is a slender, delicate hand, yet there is a look of -strength to it, for all its whiteness. You lay a bill -in it, and she hands you the phial. That is all. You -leave, and she closes the Oregon pine door quietly behind -you.</p> - -<p>As she turns about toward the divan again, she hesitates. -Her eyes wander to a closed door at one side of -the room. She takes a half step toward it, and then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> -draws back, her shoulders against the door. Her fingers -are clenched tightly, the nails sinking into the soft flesh -of her palms; but still her eyes are upon the closed door. -They are staring and wild, like those of a beast at bay. -She is trembling from head to foot.</p> - -<p>For a minute she stands there, fighting her grim battle, -alone and without help. Then, as with a last mighty -effort, she drags her eyes from the closed door and glances -toward the divan. With unsteady step she returns to -it and throws herself down among the pillows.</p> - -<p>Her shoulders move to dry sobs, she clutches the -pillows frantically in her strong fingers, she rolls from -side to side, as people do who are suffering physical -torture; but at last she relaxes and lies quiet.</p> - -<p>A clock ticks monotonously from the mantel. Its -sound fills the whole room, growing with fiendish intensity -to a horrid din that pounds upon taut, raw nerves. -She covers her ears with her palms to shut it out, but -it bores insistently through. She clutches her thick hair -with both hands; her fingers are entangled in it. For a -long minute she lies thus, prone, and then her slippered -feet commence to fly up and down as she kicks her toes -in rapid succession into the unresisting divan.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she leaps to her feet and rushes toward the -mantel.</p> - -<p>“Damn you!” she screams, and, seizing the clock, -dashes it to pieces upon the tiled hearth.</p> - -<p>Then her eyes leap to the closed door; and now, without -any hesitation, almost defiantly, she crosses the room, -opens the door, and disappears within the bathroom -beyond.</p> - -<p>Five minutes later the door opens again, and the woman -comes back into the living room. She is humming a gay -little tune. Stopping at a table, she takes a cigarette from -a carved wooden box and lights it. Then she crosses to -the baby grand piano in one corner, and commences to -play. Her voice, rich and melodious, rises in a sweet -old song of love and youth and happiness.</p> - -<p>Something has mended her shattered nerves. Upon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -the hearth lies the shattered clock. It can never be -mended.</p> - -<p>If you should return now and look at her, you would -see that she was even more beautiful than you had at -first suspected. She has put her hair in order once -more, and has arranged her dress. You see now that her -figure is as perfect as her face, and when she crossed -to the piano you could not but note the easy grace of -her carriage.</p> - -<p>Her name—her professional name—is Gaza de Lure. -You may have seen her in small parts on the screen, -and may have wondered why some one did not star her. -Of recent months you have seen her less and less often, -and you have been sorry, for you had learned to admire -the sweetness and purity that were reflected in her -every expression and mannerism. You liked her, too, -because she was as beautiful as she was good—for you -knew that she was good just by looking at her in the -pictures; but above all you liked her for her acting, for it -was unusually natural and unaffected, and something -told you that here was a born actress who would some -day be famous.</p> - -<p>Two years ago she came to Hollywood from a little -town in the Middle West—that is, two years before you -looked in upon her at the bungalow on the Vista del -Paso. She was fired by high purpose then. Her child’s -heart, burning with lofty ambition, had set its desire upon -a noble goal. The broken bodies of a thousand other -children dotted the road to the same goal, but she did -not see them, or seeing, did not understand.</p> - -<p>Stronger, perhaps, than her desire for fame was an -unselfish ambition that centered about the mother whom -she had left behind. To that mother the girl’s success -would mean greater comfort and happiness than she had -known since a worthless husband had deserted her shortly -after the baby came—the baby who was now known as -Gaza de Lure.</p> - -<p>There had been the usual rounds of the studios, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -usual disappointments, followed by more or less regular -work as an extra girl. During this period she had -learned many things—of some of which she had never -thought as having any possible bearing upon her chances -for success.</p> - -<p>For example, a director had asked her to go with him -to Vernon one evening, for dinner and dancing, and -she had refused, for several reasons—one being her certainty -that her mother would disapprove, and another the -fact that the director was a married man. The following -day the girl who had accompanied him was cast for a part -which had been promised to Gaza, and for which Gaza -was peculiarly suited. As she was leaving the lot that -day, greatly disappointed, the assistant director had -stopped her.</p> - -<p>“Too bad, kid,” he said. “I’m mighty sorry; for I -always liked you. If I can ever help you, I sure will.”</p> - -<p>The kindly words brought the tears to her eyes. Here, -at least, was one good man; but he was not in much of -a position to help her.</p> - -<p>“You’re very kind,” she said; “but I’m afraid there’s -nothing you can do.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be too sure of that,” he answered. “I’ve got -enough on that big stiff so’s he has to do about as I -say. The trouble with you is you ain’t enough of a -good fellow. You got to be a good fellow to get on in -pictures. Just step out with me some night, an’ I -promise you you’ll get a job!”</p> - -<p>The suddenly widening childish eyes meant nothing to -the shallow mind of the callow little shrimp, whose brain -pan would doubtless have burst under the pressure of -a single noble thought. As she turned quickly and walked -away, he laughed aloud. She had not gone back to that -studio.</p> - -<p>In the months that followed she had had many similar -experiences, until she had become hardened enough to feel -the sense of shame and insult less strongly than at first.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -She could talk back to them now, and tell them what she -thought of them; but she found that she got fewer and -fewer engagements. There was always enough to feed -and clothe her, and to pay for the little room she rented; -but there seemed to be no future, and that had been all -that she cared about.</p> - -<p>She would not have minded hard work—she had expected -that. Nor did she fear disappointments and a -slow, tedious road; for though she was but a young girl, -she was not without character, and she had a good head -on those trim shoulders of hers. She was unsophisticated, -yet mature, too, for her years; for she had always helped -her mother to plan the conservation of their meager -resources.</p> - -<p>Many times she had wanted to go back to her mother, -but she had stayed on, because she still had hopes, and -because she shrank from the fact of defeat admitted. -How often she cried herself to sleep in those lonely nights, -after days of bitter disillusionment! The great ambition -that had been her joy was now her sorrow. The vain -little conceit that she had woven about her screen name -was but a pathetic memory.</p> - -<p>She had never told her mother that she had taken the -name of Gaza de Lure, for she had dreamed of the -time when it would leap into national prominence overnight -in some wonderful picture, and her mother, unknowing, -would see the film and recognize her. How -often she had pictured the scene in their little theater at -home—her sudden recognition by her mother and their -friends—the surprise, the incredulity, and then the pride -and happiness in her mother’s face! How they would -whisper! And after the show they would gather around -her mother, all excitedly talking at the same time.</p> - -<p>And then she had met Wilson Crumb. She had had -a small part in a picture in which he played lead, and -which he also directed. He had been very kind to her, -very courteous. She had thought him handsome, notwithstanding -a certain weakness in his face; but what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -had attracted her most was the uniform courtesy of his -attitude toward all the women of the company. Here at -last, she thought, she had found a real gentleman whom -she could trust implicitly; and once again her ambition -lifted its drooping head.</p> - -<p>She thought of what another girl had once told her—an -older girl, who had been in pictures for several years.</p> - -<p>“They are not all bad, dear,” her friend had said. -“There are good and bad in the picture game, just as there -are in any sort of business. It’s been your rotten luck -to run up against a lot of the bad ones.”</p> - -<p>The first picture finished, Crumb had cast her for a -more important part in another, and she had made good -in both. Before the second picture was completed, the -company that employed Crumb offered her a five-year -contract. It was only for fifty dollars a week; but it -included a clause which automatically increased the salary -to one hundred a week, two hundred and fifty, and then -five hundred dollars in the event that they starred her. -She knew that it was to Crumb that she owed the contract—Crumb -had seen to that.</p> - -<p>Very gradually, then—so gradually and insidiously that -the girl could never recall just when it had started—Crumb -commenced to make love to her. At first it took -only the form of minor attentions—little courtesies and -thoughtful acts; but after a while he spoke of love—very -gently and very tenderly, as any man might have -done.</p> - -<p>She had never thought of loving him or any other man; -so she was puzzled at first, but she was not offended. He -had given her no cause for offense. When he had first -broached the subject, she had asked him not to speak of -it, as she did not think that she loved him, and he had -said that he would wait; but the seed was planted in -her mind, and it came to occupy much of her thoughts.</p> - -<p>She realized that she owed to him what little success -she had achieved. She had an assured income that -was sufficient for her simple wants, while permitting her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -to send something home to her mother every week, and -it was all due to the kindness of Wilson Crumb. He was -a successful director, he was more than a fair actor, -he was good-looking, he was kind, he was a gentleman, -and he loved her. What more could any girl ask?</p> - -<p>She thought the matter out very carefully, finally deciding -that though she did not exactly love Wilson Crumb -she probably would learn to love him, and that if he loved -her it was in a way her duty to make him happy, when -he had done so much for her happiness. She made up -her mind, therefore, to marry him whenever he asked -her; but Crumb did not ask her to marry him. He -continued to make love to her; but the matter of marriage -never seemed to enter the conversation.</p> - -<p>Once, when they were out on location, and had had -a hard day, ending by getting thoroughly soaked in a -sudden rain, he had followed her to her room in the -little mountain inn where they were stopping.</p> - -<p>“You’re cold and wet and tired,” he said. “I want to -give you something that will brace you up.”</p> - -<p>He entered the room and closed the door behind him. -Then he took from his pocket a small piece of paper -folded into a package about an inch and three-quarters -long by half an inch wide, with one end tucked ingeniously -inside the fold to form a fastening. Opening it, he -revealed a white powder, the minute crystals of which -glistened beneath the light from the electric bulbs.</p> - -<p>“It looks just like snow,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Sure!” he replied, with a faint smile. “It is snow. -Look, I’ll show you how to take it.”</p> - -<p>He divided the powder into halves, took one in the -palm of his hand, and snuffed it into his nostrils.</p> - -<p>“There!” he exclaimed. “That’s the way—it will make -you feel like a new woman.”</p> - -<p>“But what is it?” she asked. “Won’t it hurt me?”</p> - -<p>“It’ll make you feel bully. Try it.”</p> - -<p>So she tried it, and it made her “feel bully.” She -was no longer tired, but deliciously exhilarated.</p> - -<p>“Whenever you want any, let me know,” he said, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> -he was leaving the room. “I usually have some handy.”</p> - -<p>“But I’d like to know what it is,” she insisted.</p> - -<p>“Aspirin,” he replied. “It makes you feel that way -when you snuff it up your nose.”</p> - -<p>After he left, she recovered the little piece of paper -from the waste basket where he had thrown it, her -curiosity aroused. She found it a rather soiled bit of -writing paper with a “C” written in lead pencil upon it.</p> - -<p>“‘C,’” she mused. “Why aspirin with a C?”</p> - -<p>She thought she would question Wilson about it.</p> - -<p>The next day she felt out of sorts and tired, and at -noon she asked him if he had any aspirin with him. He -had, and again she felt fine and full of life. That evening -she wanted some more, and Crumb gave it to her. -The next day she wanted it oftener, and by the time they -returned to Hollywood from location she was taking it -five or six times a day. It was then that Crumb asked -her to come and live with him at his Vista del Paso bungalow; -but he did not mention marriage.</p> - -<p>He was standing with a little paper of the white -powder in his hand, separating half of it for her, and -she was waiting impatiently for it.</p> - -<p>“Well?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Well, what?”</p> - -<p>“Are you coming over to live with me?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“Without being married?” she asked.</p> - -<p>She was surprised that the idea no longer seemed horrible. -Her eyes and her mind were on the little white -powder that the man held in his hand.</p> - -<p>Crumb laughed.</p> - -<p>“Quit your kidding,” he said. “You know perfectly -well that I can’t marry you yet. I have a wife in San -Francisco.”</p> - -<p>She did not know it perfectly well—she did not know -it at all; yet it did not seem to matter so very much. A -month ago she would have caressed a rattlesnake as willingly -as she would have permitted a married man to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -make love to her; but now she could listen to a plea from -one who wished her to come and live with him, without -experiencing any numbing sense of outraged decency.</p> - -<p>Of course, she had no intention of doing what he asked; -but really the matter was of negligible import—the thing -in which she was most concerned was the little white -powder. She held out her hand for it, but he drew it -away.</p> - -<p>“Answer me first,” he said. “Are you going to be -sensible or not?”</p> - -<p>“You mean that you won’t give it to me if I won’t -come?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“That’s precisely what I mean,” he replied. “What -do you think I am, anyway? Do you know what this -bundle of ‘C’ stands me? Two fifty, and you’ve been -snuffing about three of ’em a day. What kind of a sucker -do you think I am?”</p> - -<p>Her eyes, still upon the white powder, narrowed.</p> - -<p>“I’ll come,” she whispered. “Give it to me!”</p> - -<p>She went to the bungalow with him that day, and -she learned where he kept the little white powders, hidden -in the bathroom. After dinner she put on her hat -and her fur, and took up her vanity case, while Crumb -was busy in another room. Then, opening the front door, -she called:</p> - -<p>“Good-by!”</p> - -<p>Crumb rushed into the living room.</p> - -<p>“Where are you going?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“Home,” she replied.</p> - -<p>“No, you’re not!” he cried. “You promised to stay -here.”</p> - -<p>“I promised to come,” she corrected him. “I never -promised to stay, and I never shall until you are divorced -and we are married.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll come back,” he sneered, “when you want another -shot of snow!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied. “I guess I can buy -aspirin at any drug store as well as you.”</p> - -<p>Crumb laughed aloud.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span></p> - -<p>“You little fool, you!” he cried derisively. “Aspirin! -Why, it’s cocaine you’re snuffing, and you’re snuffing -about three grains of it a day!”</p> - -<p>For an instant a look of horror filled her widened eyes.</p> - -<p>“You beast!” she cried. “You unspeakable beast!”</p> - -<p>Slamming the door behind her, she almost ran down -the narrow walk and disappeared in the shadows of the -palm trees that bordered the ill-lighted street.</p> - -<p>The man did not follow her. He only stood there -laughing, for he knew that she would come back. Craftily -he had enmeshed her. It had taken months, and never -had quarry been more wary or difficult to trap. A single -false step earlier in the game would have frightened -her away forever; but he had made no false step. He -was very proud of himself, was Wilson Crumb, for he -was convinced that he had done a very clever bit of -work.</p> - -<p>Rubbing his hands together, he walked toward the -bathroom—he would take a shot of snow; but when he -opened the receptacle, he found it empty.</p> - -<p>“The little devil!” he ejaculated.</p> - -<p>Frantically he rummaged through the medicine cabinet, -but in vain. Then he hastened into the living room, -seized his hat, and bolted for the street.</p> - -<p>Almost immediately he realized the futility of search. -He did not know where the girl lived. She had never -told him. He did not know it, but she had never told -any one. The studio had a post-office box number to -which it could address communications to Gaza de Lure; -the mother addressed the girl by her own name at the -house where she had roomed since coming to Hollywood. -The woman who rented her the room did not know her -screen name. All she knew about her was that she -seemed a quiet, refined girl who paid her room rent -promptly in advance every week, and who was always -home at night, except when on location.</p> - -<p>Crumb returned to the bungalow, searched the bathroom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> -twice more, and went to bed. For hours he lay -awake, tossing restlessly.</p> - -<p>“The little devil!” he muttered, over and over. “Fifty -dollars’ worth of cocaine—the little devil!”</p> - -<p>The next day Gaza was at the studio, ready for work, -when Crumb put in his belated appearance. He was -nervous and irritable. Almost immediately he called her -aside and demanded an accounting; but when they were -face to face, and she told him that she was through with -him, he realized that her hold upon him was stronger -than he had supposed. He could not give her up. He -was ready to promise anything, and he would demand -nothing in return, only that she would be with him as -much as possible. Her nights should be her own—she -could go home then. And so the arrangement was consummated, -and Gaza de Lure spent the days when she -was not working at the bungalow on the Vista del Paso.</p> - -<p>Crumb saw that she was cast for small parts that required -but little of her time at the studio, yet raised no -question at the office as to her salary of fifty dollars -a week. Twice the girl asked why he did not star her, -and both times he told her that he would—for a price; -but the price was one that she would not pay. After a -time the drugs which she now used habitually deadened -her ambition, so that she no longer cared. She still -managed to send a little money home, but not so much -as formerly.</p> - -<p>As the months passed, Crumb’s relations with the -source of the supply of their narcotic became so familiar -that he could obtain considerable quantities at a reduced -rate, and the plan of peddling the drug occurred to him. -Gaza was induced to do her share, and so it came about -that the better class “hypes” of Hollywood found it both -safe and easy to obtain their supplies from the bungalow -on the Vista del Paso. Cocaine, heroin, and morphine -passed continually through the girl’s hands, and she came -to know many of the addicts, though she seldom had -further intercourse with them than was necessary to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span> -transaction of the business that brought them to the -bungalow.</p> - -<p>From one, a woman, she learned how to use morphine, -dissolving the white powder in the bowl of a spoon by -passing a lighted match beneath, and then drawing the -liquid through a tiny piece of cotton into a hypodermic -syringe and injecting it beneath the skin. Once she had -experienced the sensation of well-being it induced, she -fell an easy victim to this more potent drug.</p> - -<p>One evening Crumb brought home with him a stranger -whom he had known in San Francisco—a man whom he -introduced as Allen. From that evening the fortunes -of Gaza de Lure improved. Allen had just returned -from the Orient as a member of the crew of a freighter, -and he had succeeded in smuggling in a considerable -quantity of opium. In his efforts to dispose of it he had -made the acquaintance of others in the same line of business, -and had joined forces with them. His partners -could command a more or less steady supply of morphine, -and cocaine from Mexico, while Allen undertook -to keep up their stock of opium, and to arrange a market -for their drugs in Los Angeles.</p> - -<p>If Crumb could handle it all, Allen agreed to furnish -morphine at fifty dollars an ounce—Gaza to do the actual -peddling. The girl agreed on one condition—that half -the profits should be hers. After that she had been able -to send home more money than ever before, and at the -same time to have all the morphine she wanted at a low -price. She began to put money in the bank, made a -first payment on a small orchard about a hundred miles -from Los Angeles, and sent for her mother.</p> - -<p>The day before you called on her in the “art” bungalow -at 1421 Vista del Paso she had put her mother on a -train bound for her new home, with the promise that -the daughter would visit her “as soon as we finish this -picture.” It had required all the girl’s remaining will -power to hide her shame from those eager mother eyes; -but she had managed to do it, though it had left her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> -almost a wreck by the time the train pulled out of the -station.</p> - -<p>To Crumb she had said nothing about her mother. -This was a part of her life that was too sacred to be -revealed to the man whom she now loathed even as she -loathed the filthy habit he had tricked her into; but -she could no more give up the one than the other.</p> - -<p>There had been a time when she had fought against -the domination of these twin curses that had been visited -upon her, but that time was over. She knew now that -she would never give up morphine—that she could not -if she wanted to, and that she did not want to. The -little bindles of cocaine, morphine, and heroin that she -wrapped so deftly with those slender fingers and marked -“C,” “M,” or “H,” according to their contents, were parts -of her life now. The sallow, trembling creatures who -came for them, or to whom she sometimes delivered -them, and who paid her two dollars and a half a bindle, -were also parts of her life. Crumb, too, was a part of her -life. She hated the bindles, she hated the sallow, trembling -people, she hated Crumb; but still she clung to -them, for how else was she to get the drug without -which she could not live?</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">It</span> was May. The rainy season was definitely over. -A few April showers had concluded it. The Ganado -hills showed their most brilliant greens. The March -pigs were almost ready to wean. White-faced calves -and black colts and gray colts surveyed this beautiful -world through soft, dark eyes, and were filled with -the joy of living as they ran beside their gentle mothers. -A stallion neighed from the stable corral, and from the -ridge behind Jackknife Cañon the Emperor of Ganado -answered him.</p> - -<p>A girl and a man sat in the soft grass beneath the shade -of a live oak upon the edge of a low bluff in the pasture -where the brood mares grazed with their colts. Their -horses were tied to another tree near by. The girl held -a bunch of yellow violets in her hand, and gazed dreamily -down the broad cañon toward the valley. The man sat -a little behind her and gazed at the girl. For a long time -neither spoke.</p> - -<p>“You cannot be persuaded to give it up, Grace?” he -asked at last.</p> - -<p>She shook her head.</p> - -<p>“I should never be happy until I had tried it,” she -replied.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” he said, “I know how you feel about -it. I feel the same way. I want to get away—away -from the deadly stagnation and sameness of this life; -but I am going to try to stick it out for father’s sake, -and I wish that you loved me enough to stick it out -for mine. I believe that together we could get enough -happiness out of life here to make up for what we are -denied of real living, such as only a big city can offer.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> -Then, when father is gone, we could go and live in -the city—in any city that we wanted to live in—Los -Angeles, Chicago, New York, London, Paris—anywhere.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t that I don’t love you enough, Custer,” said -the girl. “I love you too much to want you to marry -just a little farmer girl. When I come to you, I want -you to be proud of me. Don’t talk about the time when -your father will have gone. It seems wicked. He would -not want you to stay if he knew how you felt about it.”</p> - -<p>“You do not know,” he replied. “Ever since I was a -little boy he has counted on this—on my staying on and -working with him. He wants us all to be together always. -When Eva marries, he will build her a home on Ganado. -You have already helped with the plan for ours. You -know it is his dream, but you cannot know how much -it means to him. It would not kill him if his dream -was spoiled, but it would take so much happiness out of -his life that I cannot bring myself to do it. It is not -a matter of money, but of sentiment and love. If Ganado -were wiped off the face of the earth to-morrow, we -would still have all the money that we need; but he -would never be happy again, for his whole life is bound -up in the ranch and the dream that he has built around -it. It is peculiar, too, that such a man as he should be -so ruled by sentiment. You know how practical he is, -and sometimes hard—yet I have seen the tears come -to his eyes when he spoke of his love for Ganado.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” she said, and they were silent again for a -time. “You are a good son, Custer,” she said presently. -“I wouldn’t have you any different. I am not so good -a daughter. Mother does not want me to go. It is -going to make her very unhappy, and yet I am going. -The man who loves me does not want me to go. It -is going to make him very unhappy, and yet I am going. -It seems very selfish; but, oh, Custer, I cannot help but -feel that I am right! It seems to me that I have a duty -to perform, and that this is the only way I can perform<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -it. Perhaps I am not only silly, but sometimes I feel -that I am called by a higher power to give myself for -a little time to the world, that the world may be happier -and, I hope, a little better. You know I have always -felt that the stage was one of the greatest powers for -good in all the world, and now I believe that some day -the screen will be an even greater power for good. It -is with the conviction that I may help toward this end -that I am so eager to go. You will be very glad and -very happy when I come back, that I did not listen -to your arguments.”</p> - -<p>“I hope you are right, Grace,” Custer Pennington said.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>On a rustic seat beneath the new leaves of an umbrella -tree a girl and a boy sat beside the upper lily pond -on the south side of the hill below the ranch house. The -girl held a spray of Japanese quince blossoms in her hand, -and gazed dreamily at the water splashing lazily over the -rocks into the pond. The boy sat beside her and gazed -at the girl. For a long time neither spoke.</p> - -<p>“Won’t you please say yes?” whispered the boy -presently.</p> - -<p>“How perfectly, terribly silly you are!” she replied.</p> - -<p>“I am not silly,” he said. “I am twenty, and you -are almost eighteen. It’s time that we were marrying -and settling down.”</p> - -<p>“On what?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“Well, we won’t need much at first. We can live at -home with mother,” he explained, “until I sell a few -stories.”</p> - -<p>“How perfectly gorgeristic!” she cried.</p> - -<p>“Don’t make fun of me! You wouldn’t if you loved -me,” he pouted.</p> - -<p>“I <em>do</em> love you, silly! But whatever in the world put -the dapper little idea into your head that I wanted to -be supported by my mother-in-law?”</p> - -<p>“Mother-in-law!” protested the boy. “You ought to -be ashamed to speak disrespectfully of my mother.”</p> - -<p>“You quaint child!” exclaimed the girl, laughing gayly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> -“Just as if I would speak disrespectfully of Aunt Mae, -when I love her so splendiferously! Isn’t she going to -be my mother-in-law?”</p> - -<p>The boy’s gloom vanished magically.</p> - -<p>“There!” he cried. “We’re engaged! You’ve said it -yourself. You’ve proposed, and I accept you. Yes, -sure—she’s going to be your mother-in-law!”</p> - -<p>Eva flushed.</p> - -<p>“I never said anything of the kind. How perfectly -idiotical!”</p> - -<p>“But you did say it. You proposed to me. I’m going -to announce the engagement—‘Mrs. Mae Evans announces -the engagement of her son, Guy Thackeray, to -Miss Eva Pennington.’”</p> - -<p>“Funeral notice later,” snapped the girl, glaring at -him.</p> - -<p>“Aw, come, now, you needn’t get mad at me. I was -only fooling; but wouldn’t it be great, Ev? We could -always be together then, and I could write and you -<span class="locked">could—could——”</span></p> - -<p>“Wash dishes,” she suggested.</p> - -<p>The light died from his eyes, and he dropped them -sadly to the ground.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry I’m poor,” he said. “I didn’t think you -cared about that, though.”</p> - -<p>She laid a brown hand gently over his.</p> - -<p>“You know I don’t care,” she said. “I am a -catty old thing. I’d just love it if we had a little -place all our very own—just a teeny, weeny bungalow. -I’d help you with your work, and keep hens, -and have a little garden with onions and radishes -and everything, and we wouldn’t have to buy anything -from the grocery store, and a bank account, and -one sow; and when we drove into the city people -would say, ‘There goes Guy Thackeray Evans, the -famous author, but I wonder where his wife got that -hat!’”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Ev!” he cried laughing. “You never can be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -serious more than two seconds, can you?”</p> - -<p>“Why should I be?” she inquired. “And anyway, -I was. It really would be elegantiferous if we had a -little place of our own; but my husband has got to be -able to support me, Guy. He’d lose his self-respect if -he didn’t; and then, if he lost his, how could I respect -him? You’ve got to have respect on both sides, or you -can’t have love and happiness.”</p> - -<p>His face grew stern with determination.</p> - -<p>“I’ll get the money,” he said; but he did not look -at her. “But now that Grace is going away, mother -will be all alone if I leave, too. Couldn’t we live with -her for a while?”</p> - -<p>“Papa and mama have always said that it was the -worst thing a young married couple could do,” she -replied. “We could live near her, and see her every -day; but I don’t think we should all live together. Really, -though, do you think Grace is going? It seems just too -awful.”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid she is,” he replied sadly. “Mother is all -broken up about it; but she tries not to let Grace know.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t understand it,” said the girl. “It seems to -me a selfish thing to do, and yet Grace has always been -so sweet and generous. No matter how much I wanted -to go, I don’t believe I could bring myself to do it, knowing -how terribly it would hurt papa. Just think, Guy—it -is the first break, except for the short time we were -away at school, since we have been born. We have -all lived here always, it seems, your family and mine, -like one big family; but after Grace goes it will be -the beginning of the end. It will never be the same -again.”</p> - -<p>There was a note of seriousness and sadness in her -voice that sounded not at all like Eva Pennington. The -boy shook his head.</p> - -<p>“It is too bad,” he said; “but Grace is so sure she -is right—so positive that she has a great future before<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -her, and that we shall all be so proud of her—that sometimes -I am convinced myself.”</p> - -<p>“I hope she is right,” said the girl, and then, with a -return to her joyous self: “Oh, wouldn’t it be spiffy if -she really does become famous! I can see just how -puffed up we shall all be when we read the reviews of -her pictures, like this—‘Miss Grace Evans, the famous -star, has quite outdone her past successes in the latest -picture, in which she is ably supported by such well -known actors as Thomas Meighan, Wallace Reid, Gloria -Swanson, and Mary Pickford.’”</p> - -<p>“Why slight Douglas Fairbanks and Charlie Chaplin?” -suggested Guy.</p> - -<p>The girl rose.</p> - -<p>“Come on!” she said. “Let’s have a look at the pools—it -isn’t a perfect day unless I’ve seen fish in every -pool. Do you remember how we used to watch and -watch and watch for the fish in the lower pools, and -run as fast as we could to be the first up to the house -to tell if we saw them, and how many?”</p> - -<p>“And do you remember the little turtles, and how -wild they got?” he put in. “Sometimes we wouldn’t -see them for weeks, and then we’d get just a glimpse, -so that we knew they were still there. Then, after a -while, we never saw them again, and how we used to -wonder and speculate as to what had become of them!”</p> - -<p>“And do you remember the big water snake we found -in the upper pool, and how Cus used to lie in wait for -him with his little twenty-two?”</p> - -<p>“Cus was always the hunter. How we used to trudge -after him up and down those steep hills there in the cow -pasture, while he hunted ground squirrels, and how mad -he’d get if we made any noise! Gee, Ev, those were the -good old days!”</p> - -<p>“And how we used to fight, and what a nuisance Cus -thought me; but he always asked me to go along, just -the same. He’s a wonderful brother, Guy!”</p> - -<p>“He’s a wonderful man, Ev,” replied the boy. “You<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> -don’t half know how wonderful he is. He’s always -thinking of some one else. Right now I’ll bet he’s eating -his heart out because Grace is going away; and he -can’t go, just because he’s thinking more of some one’s -else happiness than his own.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“He wants to go to the city. He wants to get into -some business there; but he won’t go, because he knows -your father wants him here.”</p> - -<p>“Do you really think that?”</p> - -<p>“I know it,” he said.</p> - -<p>They walked on in silence along the winding pathways -among the flower-bordered pools, to stop at last beside -the lower one. This had originally been a shallow wading -pool for the children when they were small, but it was -now given over to water hyacinth and brilliant fantails.</p> - -<p>“There!” said the girl, presently. “I have seen fish -in each pool.”</p> - -<p>“And you can go to bed with a clear conscience to-night,” -he laughed.</p> - -<p>To the west of the lower pool there were no trees to -obstruct their view of the hills that rolled down from the -mountains to form the western wall of the cañon in which -the ranch buildings and cultivated fields lay. As the two -stood there, hand in hand, the boy’s eyes wandered -lovingly over the soft, undulating lines of these lower -hills, with their parklike beauty of greensward dotted -with wild walnut trees. As he looked he saw, for a -brief moment, the figure of a man on horseback passing -over the hollow of a saddle before disappearing upon the -southern side.</p> - -<p>Small though the distant figure was, and visible but -for a moment, the boy recognized the military carriage -of the rider. He glanced quickly at the girl to note if -she had seen, but it was evident that she had not.</p> - -<p>“Well, Ev,” he said, “I guess I’ll be toddling.”</p> - -<p>“So early?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“You see I’ve got to get busy, if I’m going to get<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -the price of that teeny, weeny bungalow,” he explained. -“Now that we’re engaged, you might kiss me good-by—eh?”</p> - -<p>“We’re not engaged, and I’ll not kiss you good-by or -good anything else. I don’t believe in people kissing -until they’re married.”</p> - -<p>“Then why are you always raving about the wonderful -kisses Antonio Moreno, or Milton Sills, or some other -poor prune, gives the heroine at the end of the last reel?” -he demanded.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s different,” she explained. “Anyway, -they’re just going to get married. When we are just -going to get married I’ll let you kiss me—once a week, -<em>maybe</em>.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks!” he cried.</p> - -<p>A moment later he swung into the saddle, and with -a wave of his hand cantered off up the cañon.</p> - -<p>“Now what,” said the girl to herself, “is he going -up there for? He can’t make any money back there in -the hills. He ought to be headed straight for home and -his typewriter!”</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Across</span> the rustic bridge, and once behind the sycamores -at the lower end of the cow pasture, Guy Evans -let his horse out into a rapid gallop. A few minutes later -he overtook a horseman who was moving at a slow walk -farther up the cañon. At the sound of the pounding -hoofbeats behind him, the latter turned in his saddle, -reined about and stopped. The boy rode up and drew -in his blowing mount beside the other.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Allen!” he said.</p> - -<p>The man nodded.</p> - -<p>“What’s eatin’ you?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been thinking over that proposition of yours,” explained -Evans.</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I’ve been thinking maybe I might swing it; but -are you sure it’s safe. How do I know you won’t -double-cross me?”</p> - -<p>“You don’t know,” replied the other. “All you know -is that I got enough on you to send you to San Quentin. -You wouldn’t get nothin’ worse if you handled the rest -of it, an’ you stand to clean up between twelve and -fifteen thousand bucks on the deal. You needn’t worry -about me double-crossin’ you. What good would it do -me? I ain’t got nothin’ against you, kid. If you don’t -double-cross me I won’t double-cross you; but look out -for that cracker-fed dude your sister’s goin’ to hitch to. -If he ever butts in on this I’ll croak him an’ send you to -San Quentin, if I swing for it. Do you get me?”</p> - -<p>Evans nodded.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go in on it,” he said, “because I need the money; -but don’t you bother Custer Pennington—get that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span> -straight. I’d go to San Quentin and I’d swing myself -before I’d stand for that. Another thing, and then we’ll -drop that line of chatter—you couldn’t send me to San -Quentin or anywhere else. I bought a few bottles of -hootch from you, and there isn’t any judge or jury going -to send me to San Quentin for that.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t know what you done,” said Allen, with a -grin. “There’s a thousand cases of bonded whisky hid -back there in the hills, an’ you engineered the whole -deal at this end. Maybe you didn’t have nothin’ to do -with stealin’ it from a government bonded warehouse in -New York; but you must’a’ knowed all about it, an’ -it was you that hired me and the other three to smuggle -it off the ship and into the hills.”</p> - -<p>Evans was staring at the man in wide-eyed incredulity.</p> - -<p>“How do you get that way?” he asked derisively.</p> - -<p>“They’s four of us to swear to it,” said Allen; “an’ -how many you got to swear you didn’t do it?”</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s a rotten frame-up!” exclaimed Evans.</p> - -<p>“Sure it’s a frame-up,” agreed Allen; “but we won’t -use it if you behave yourself properly.”</p> - -<p>Evans looked at the man for a long minute—dislike -and contempt unconcealed upon his face.</p> - -<p>“I guess,” he said presently, “that I don’t need any -twelve thousand dollars that bad, Allen. We’ll call this -thing off, as far as I am concerned. I’m through, right -now. Good-by!”</p> - -<p>He wheeled his horse to ride away.</p> - -<p>“Hold on there, young feller!” said Allen. “Not so -quick! You may think you’re through, but you’re not. -We need you, and, anyway, you know too damned much -for your health. You’re goin’ through with this. We -got some other junk up there that there’s more profit -in than what there is in booze, and it’s easier to handle. -We know where to get rid of it; but the booze we can’t -handle as easy as you can, and so you’re goin’ to handle -it.”</p> - -<p>“Who says I am?”</p> - -<p>“<em>I</em> do,” returned Allen, with an ugly snarl. “You’ll<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -handle it, or I’ll do just what I said I’d do, and I’ll do -it <em>pronto</em>. How’d you like your mother and that Pennington -girl to hear all I’d have to say?”</p> - -<p>The boy sat with scowling, thoughtful brows for a -long minute. From beneath a live oak, on the summit -of a low bluff, a man discovered them. He had -been sitting there talking with a girl. Suddenly he -looked up.</p> - -<p>“Why, there’s Guy,” he said. “Who’s that with—why, -it’s that fellow Allen! What’s he doing up here?” He -rose to his feet. “You stay here a minute, Grace. I’m -going down to see what that fellow wants. I can’t -understand Guy.”</p> - -<p>He untied the Apache and mounted, while below, just -beyond the pasture fence, the boy turned sullenly toward -Allen.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go through with it this once,” he said. “You’ll -bring it down on burros at night?”</p> - -<p>The other nodded affirmatively.</p> - -<p>“Where do you want it?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Bring it to the west side of the old hay barn—the -one that stands on our west line. When will you come?”</p> - -<p>“To-day’s Tuesday. We’ll bring the first lot Friday -night, about twelve o’clock; and after that every Friday -the same time. You be ready to settle every Friday for -what you’ve sold during the week—<i xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">sabe?</i>”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Evans. “That’s all, then”; and he turned -and rode back toward the rancho.</p> - -<p>Allen was continuing on his way toward the hills when -his attention was again attracted by the sound of hoofbeats. -Looking to his left, he saw a horseman approaching -from inside the pasture. He recognized both horse -and rider at once, but kept sullenly on his way.</p> - -<p>Pennington rode up to the opposite side of the fence -along which ran the trail that Allen followed.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing here, Allen?” he asked in a not -unkindly tone.</p> - -<p>“Mindin’ my own business, like you better,” retorted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span> -the ex-stableman.</p> - -<p>“You have no business back here on Ganado,” said -Pennington. “You’ll have to get off the property.”</p> - -<p>“The hell I will!” exclaimed Allen.</p> - -<p>At the same time he made a quick movement with his -right hand; but Pennington made a quicker.</p> - -<p>“That kind of stuff don’t go here, Allen,” said the -younger man, covering the other with a forty-five. “Now -turn around and get off the place, and don’t come on it -again. I don’t want any trouble with you.”</p> - -<p>Without a word, Allen reined his horse about and -rode down the cañon; but there was murder in his heart. -Pennington watched him until he was out of revolver -range, and then turned and rode back to Grace Evans.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Beneath</span> the cool shadows of the north porch the -master of Ganado, booted and spurred, rested after a -long ride in the hot sun, sipping a long, cool glass of -peach brandy and orange juice, and talking with his wife. -A broad barley field lay below them, stretching to the -State highway half a mile to the north. The yellowing -heads of the grain stood motionless beneath the blazing -sun. Inside the myriad kernels the milk was changing -into dough. It would not be long now, barring fogs, -before that gorgeous pageant of prosperity would be -falling in serried columns into the maw of the binder.</p> - -<p>“We’re going to have a bully crop of barley this year, -Julia,” remarked the colonel, fishing a small piece of ice -from his glass. “Do you know, I’m beginning to believe -this is better than a mint julep!”</p> - -<p>“Heavens, Custer—whisper it!” admonished his wife. -“Just suppose the shades of some of your ancestors, or -mine, should overhear such sacrilege!”</p> - -<p>The colonel chuckled.</p> - -<p>“Is it old age, or has this sunny land made me effeminate?” -he queried. “It’s quite a far cry from an old-fashioned -mint julep to this home-made wine and orange -juice. You can’t call it brandy—it hasn’t enough of -what the boys call ‘kick’ to be entitled to that honor; but -I like it. Yes, sir, that’s bully barley—there isn’t any -better in the foothills!”</p> - -<p>“The oats look good, too,” said Mrs. Pennington. “I -haven’t noticed the slightest sign of rust.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the result of the boy’s trip to Texas last summer,” -said the colonel proudly. “Went down there himself -and selected all the seed—didn’t take anybody’s word<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -for it. Genuine Texas rustproof oats was what he went -for and what he got. I don’t know what I’d do without -him, Julia. It’s wonderful to see one’s dreams come -true! I’ve been dreaming for years of the time when -my boy and I would work together and make Ganado -even more wonderful than it ever was before; and now -my dream’s a reality. It’s great, I tell you—it’s great! -Is there another glass of this Ganado elixir in that pitcher, -Julia?”</p> - -<p>They were silent then for a few minutes, the colonel -sipping his “elixir,” and Mrs. Pennington, with her book -face down upon her lap, gazing out across the barley and -the broad valley and the distant hills—into the future, -perhaps, or back into the past.</p> - -<p>It had been an ideal life that they had led here—a -life of love and sunshine and happiness. There had -been nothing to vex her soul as she reveled in the delight -of her babies, watching them grow into sturdy children -and then develop into clean young manhood and womanhood. -But growing with the passing years had been the -dread of that day when the first break would come, as -come she knew it must.</p> - -<p>She knew the dream that her husband had built, and -that with it he had purposely blinded his eyes and dulled -his ears to the truth which the mother heart would have -been glad to deny, but could not. Some day one of the -children would go away, and then the other. It was -only right and just that it should be so, for as they two -had built their own home and their own lives and their -little family circle, so their children must do even as -they.</p> - -<p>It was going to be hard on them both, much harder -on the father, because of that dream that had become an -obsession. Mrs. Pennington feared that it might break -his spirit, for it would leave him nothing to plan for and -hope for as he had planned and hoped for this during -the twenty-two years that they had spent upon Ganado.</p> - -<p>Now that Grace was going to the city, how could they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> -hope to keep their boy content upon the ranch? She -knew he loved the old place, but he was entitled to see -the world and to make his own place in it—not merely -to slide spinelessly into the niche that another had prepared -for him.</p> - -<p>“I am worried about the boy,” she said presently.</p> - -<p>“How? In what way?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“He will be very blue and lonely after Grace goes,” -she said.</p> - -<p>“Don’t talk to me about it!” cried the colonel, banging -his glass down upon the table and rising to his feet. “It -makes me mad just to think of it. I can’t understand -how Grace can want to leave this beautiful world to live -in a damned city! She’s crazy! What’s her mother -thinking about, to let her go?”</p> - -<p>“You must remember, dear,” said his wife soothingly, -“that every one is not so much in love with the country -as you, and that these young people have their own -careers to carve in the way they think best. It would -not be right to try to force them to live the way we like -to live.”</p> - -<p>“Damned foolishness, that’s what it is!” he blustered. -“An actress! What does she know about acting?”</p> - -<p>“She is beautiful, cultured, and intelligent. There is -no reason why she should not succeed and make a great -name for herself. Why shouldn’t she be ambitious, dear? -We should encourage her, now that she has determined -to go. It would help her, for she loves us all—she loves -you as a daughter might, for you have been like a father -to her ever since Mr. Evans died.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, pshaw, Julia!” the colonel exclaimed. “I love -Grace—you know I do. I suppose it’s because I love -her that I feel so about this. Maybe I’m jealous of the -city, to think that it has weaned her away from us. I -don’t mean all I say, sometimes; but really I am broken -up at the thought of her going. It seems to me that -it may be just the beginning of the end of the beautiful -life that we have all led here for so many years.”</p> - -<p>“Have you ever thought that some day our own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -children may want to go?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I won’t think about it!” he exploded.</p> - -<p>“I hope you won’t have to,” she said; “but it’s going -to be pretty hard on the boy after Grace goes.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think he’ll want to go?” the colonel asked. -His voice sounded suddenly strange and pleading, and -there was a suggestion of pain and fear in his eyes that -she had never seen there before in all the years that she -had known him. “Do you think he’ll want to go?” he repeated -in a voice that no longer sounded like his own.</p> - -<p>“Stranger things have happened,” she replied, forcing -a smile, “than a young man wanting to go out into the -world and win his spurs!”</p> - -<p>“Let’s not talk about it, Julia,” the colonel said -presently. “You are right, but I don’t want to think -about it. When it comes will be time enough to meet -it. If my boy wants to go, he shall go—and he shall -never know how deeply his father is hurt!”</p> - -<p>“There they are now,” said Mrs. Pennington. “I hear -them in the patio. Children!” she called. “Here we are -on the north porch!”</p> - -<p>They came through the house together, brother and -sister, their arms about each other.</p> - -<p>“Cus says I am too young to get married,” exclaimed -the girl.</p> - -<p>“Married!” ejaculated the colonel. “You and Guy -talking of getting married? What are you going to live -on, child?”</p> - -<p>“On that hill back there.”</p> - -<p>She jerked her thumb in a direction that was broadly -south by west.</p> - -<p>“That will give them two things to live on,” suggested -the boy, grinning.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean—two things?” demanded the girl.</p> - -<p>“The hill and father,” her brother replied, dodging.</p> - -<p>She pursued him, and he ran behind his mother’s -chair; but at last she caught him, and, seizing his collar,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> -pretended to chastise him, until he picked her up bodily -from the floor and kissed her.</p> - -<p>“Pity the poor goof she ensnares!” pleaded Custer, addressing -his parents. “He will have three avenues of -escape—being beaten to death, starved to death, or talked -to death.”</p> - -<p>Eva clapped a hand over his mouth.</p> - -<p>“Now listen to me,” she cried. “Guy and I are going -to build a teeny, weeny bungalow on that hill, all by -ourselves, with a white tile splash board in the kitchen, -and one of those broom closets that turn into an ironing -board, and a very low, overhanging roof, almost flat, -and a shower, and a great big living room where we -can take the rugs up and dance, and a spiffy little garden -in the back yard, and chickens, and Chinese rugs, and -he is going to have a study all to himself where he writes -his stories, <span class="locked">an——”</span></p> - -<p>At last she had to stop and join in the laughter.</p> - -<p>“I think you are all mean,” she added. “You always -laugh at me!”</p> - -<p>“With you, little jabberer,” corrected the colonel; “for -you were made to be laughed with and kissed.”</p> - -<p>“Then kiss me,” she exclaimed, and sprang into his lap, -at the imminent risk of deluging them both with “elixir”—a -risk which the colonel, through long experience of -this little daughter of his, was able to minimize by holding -the glass at arm’s length as she dived for him.</p> - -<p>“And when are you going to be married?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, not for ages and ages!” she cried.</p> - -<p>“But are you and Guy engaged?”</p> - -<p>“Of course not!”</p> - -<p>“Then why in the world all this talk about getting -married?” he inquired, his eyes twinkling.</p> - -<p>“Well, can’t I talk?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“Talk? I’ll say she can!” exclaimed her brother.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Two</span> weeks later Grace Evans left for Hollywood and -fame. She would permit no one to accompany her, saying -that she wanted to feel that from the moment she -left home she had made her own way, unassisted, toward -her goal.</p> - -<p>Hers was the selfish egotism that is often to be found -in otherwise generous natures. She had never learned -the sweetness and beauty of sharing—of sharing her ambitions, -her successes, and her failures, too, with those -who loved her. If she won to fame, the glory would -be hers; nor did it once occur to her that she might have -shared that pride and pleasure with others by accepting -their help and advice. If she failed, they would not -have even the sad sweetness of sharing her disappointment.</p> - -<p>Over two homes there hovered that evening a pall of -gloom that no effort seemed able to dispel. In the ranch -house on Ganado they made a brave effort at cheerfulness -on Custer Pennington’s account. They did not dance -that evening, as was their custom, nor could they find -pleasure in the printed page when they tried to read. -Bridge proved equally impossible.</p> - -<p>Finally Custer rose, announcing that he was going -to bed. Kissing them all good night, as had been the -custom since childhood, he went to his room, and tears -came to the mother’s eyes as she noted the droop in the -broad shoulders as he walked from the room.</p> - -<p>The girl came then and knelt beside her, taking the -older woman’s hand in hers and caressing it.</p> - -<p>“I feel so sorry for Cus,” she said. “I believe that -none of us realize how hard he is taking this. He told<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> -me yesterday that it was going to be just the same as -if Grace was dead, for he knew she would never be -satisfied here again, whether she succeeded or failed. I -think he has definitely given up all hope of their being -married.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, dear, I am sure he is wrong,” said her -mother. “The engagement has not been broken. In fact -Grace told me only a few days ago that she hoped her -success would come quickly, so that she and Custer might -be married the sooner. The dear girl wants us to be -proud of our new daughter.”</p> - -<p>“My God!” ejaculated the colonel, throwing his book -down and rising to pace the floor. “Proud of her! -Weren’t we already proud of her? Will being an actress -make her any dearer to us? Of all the damn fool ideas!”</p> - -<p>“Custer! Custer! You mustn’t swear so before Eva,” -reproved Mrs. Pennington.</p> - -<p>“Swear?” he demanded. “Who in hell is swearing?”</p> - -<p>A merry peal of laughter broke from the girl, nor could -her mother refrain from smiling.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t swearing when popsy says it,” cried the girl. -“My gracious, I’ve heard it all my life, and you always -say the same thing to him, as if I’d never heard a single -little cuss word. Anyway, I’m going to bed now, popsy, -so that you won’t contaminate me. According to momsy’s -theory she should curse like a pirate by this time, after -twenty-five years of it!”</p> - -<p>She kissed them, leaving them alone in the little family -sitting room.</p> - -<p>“I hope the boy won’t take it too hard,” said the colonel -after a silence.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid he has been drinking a little too much -lately,” said the mother. “I only hope his loneliness for -Grace won’t encourage it.”</p> - -<p>“I hadn’t noticed it,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“He never shows it much,” she replied. “An outsider -would not know that he had been drinking at all when -I can see that he has had more than he should.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry about that, dear,” said the colonel. “A<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span> -Pennington never drinks more than a gentleman should. -His father and his grandsires, on both sides, always -drank, but there has never been a drunkard in either -family. I wouldn’t give two cents for him if he couldn’t -take a man’s drink like a man; but he’ll never go too -far. My boy couldn’t!”</p> - -<p>The pride and affection in the words brought the tears -to the mother’s eyes. She wondered if there had ever -been father and son like these before—each with such -implicit confidence in the honor, the integrity, and the -manly strength of the other. <em>His boy</em> couldn’t go wrong!</p> - -<p>Custer Pennington entered his room, lighted a reading -lamp beside a deep, wide-armed chair, selected a book -from a rack, and settled himself comfortably for an -hour of pleasure and inspiration. But he did not open -the book. Instead, he sat staring blindly at the opposite -wall.</p> - -<p>Directly in front of him hung a water color of the -Apache, done by Eva, and given to him the previous -Christmas; a framed enlargement of a photograph of -a prize Hereford bull; a pair of rusty Spanish spurs; and -a frame of ribbons won by the Apache at various horse -shows. Custer saw none of these, but only a gloomy -vista of dreary years stretching through the dead -monotony of endless ranch days that were all alike—years -that he must travel alone.</p> - -<p>She would never come back, and why should she? In -the city, in that new life, she would meet men of the -world—men of broader culture than his, men of wealth—and -she would be sought after. They would have more -to offer her than he, and sooner or later she would realize -it. He could not expect to hold her.</p> - -<p>Custer laid aside his book.</p> - -<p>“What’s the use?” he asked himself.</p> - -<p>Rising, he went to the closet and brought out a bottle. -He had not intended drinking. On the contrary, he had -determined very definitely not to drink that night; but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> -again he asked himself the old question which, under certain -circumstances of life and certain conditions of seeming -hopelessness, appears unanswerable:</p> - -<p>“What is the use?”</p> - -<p>It is a foolish question, a meaningless question, a -dangerous question. What is the use of what? Of combating -fate—of declining to do the thing we ought not to -do—of doing the thing we should do? It is not even -a satisfactory means of self-justification; but amid the -ruins of his dreams it was sufficient excuse for Custer -Pennington’s surrender to the craving of an appetite -which was daily becoming stronger.</p> - -<p>The next morning he did not ride before breakfast -with the other members of the family, nor, in fact, did -he breakfast until long after they.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>On the evening of the day of Grace’s departure Mrs. -Evans retired early, complaining of a headache. Guy -Evans sought to interest himself in various magazines, -but he was restless and too ill at ease to remain long -absorbed. At frequent intervals he consulted his watch, -and as the evening wore on he made numerous trips to -his room, where he had recourse to a bottle like the one -with which Custer Pennington was similarly engaged.</p> - -<p>It was Friday—the second Friday since Guy had entered -into an agreement with Allen; and as midnight approached -his nervousness increased.</p> - -<p>Young Evans, while scarcely to be classed as a strong -character, was more impulsive than weak, nor was he in -any sense of the word vicious. While he knew that he -was breaking the law, he would have been terribly shocked -at the merest suggestion that his acts placed upon him -the brand of criminality. Like many another, he considered -the Volstead Act the work of an organized and -meddlesome minority, rather than the real will of the -people. There was, in his opinion, no immorality in -circumventing the Eighteenth Amendment whenever and -wherever possible.</p> - -<p>The only fly in the ointment was the fact that the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> -liquor in which he was at present trafficking had been -stolen; but he attempted to square this with his conscience -by the oft reiterated thought that he did not know -it to be stolen goods—they couldn’t prove that he knew -it. However, the fly remained. It must have been one -of those extremely obnoxious, buzzy flies, if one might -judge by the boy’s increasing nervousness.</p> - -<p>Time and again, during that long evening, he mentally -reiterated his determination that once this venture was -concluded, he would never embark upon another of a -similar nature. The several thousand dollars which -it would net him would make it possible for him to marry -Eva and settle down to a serious and uninterrupted effort -at writing—the one vocation for which he believed himself -best fitted by inclination and preparation; but never -again, he assured himself repeatedly, would he allow -himself to be cajoled or threatened into such an agreement.</p> - -<p>He disliked and feared Allen, whom he now knew to -be a totally unscrupulous man, and his introduction, the -preceding Friday, to the confederates who had brought -down the first consignment of whisky from the mountains -had left him fairly frozen with apprehension as he -considered the type of ruffians with whom he was associated. -During the intervening week he had been unable -to concentrate his mind upon his story writing even to -the extent of a single word of new material. He had -worried and brooded, and he had drunk more than -usual.</p> - -<p>As he sat waiting for the arrival of the second consignment, -he pictured the little cavalcade winding downward -along hidden trails through the chaparral of dark, -mountain ravines. His nervousness increased as he realized -the risk of discovery some time during the six -months that it would take to move the contraband to the -edge of the valley in this way—thirty-six cases at a time, -packed out on six burros.</p> - -<p>He had little fear of the failure of his plan for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> -hiding the liquor in the old hay barn and moving it out -again the following day. For three years there had been -stored in one end of the barn some fifty tons of baled -melilotus. It had been sown as a cover crop by a former -foreman, and allowed to grow to such proportions as to -render the plowing of it under a practical impossibility. -As hay it was in little or no demand, but there was a -possibility of a hay shortage that year. It was against -this possibility that Evans had had it baled and stored -away in the barn, where it had lain ever since, awaiting -an offer that would at least cover the cost of growing, -harvesting, and baling. A hard day’s work had so rearranged -the bales as to form a hidden chamber in the -center of the pile, ingress to which could readily be had -by removing a couple of bales near the floor.</p> - -<p>A little after eleven o’clock Guy left the house and -made his way to the barn, where he paced nervously to -and fro in the dark interior. He hoped that the men -would come early and get the thing over, for it was this -part of the operation that seemed most fraught with -danger.</p> - -<p>The disposal of the liquor was effected by daylight, and -the very boldness and simplicity of the scheme seemed -to assure its safety. A large motor truck—such trucks -are constantly seen upon the roads of southern California, -loaded with farm and orchard products and bound cityward—drove -up to the hay barn on the morning after -the receipt of the contraband. It backed into the interior, -and half an hour later it emerged with a small load of -baled melilotus. That there were thirty-six cases of -bonded whisky concealed by the innocent-looking bales -of melilotus Mr. Volstead himself could not have guessed; -but such was the case.</p> - -<p>Where it went to after it left his hands Guy Evans did -not know or want to know. The man who bought it -from him owned and drove the truck. He paid Evans -six dollars a quart in currency, and drove away, taking,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span> -besides the load on the floor of the truck, a much heavier -burden from the mind of the young man.</p> - -<p>The whisky was in Guy’s possession for less than -twelve hours a week; but during those twelve hours he -earned the commission of a dollar a bottle that Allen allowed -him, for his great fear was that sooner or later -some one would discover and follow the six burros as -they came down to the barn. There were often campers -in the hills. During the deer season, if they did not have -it all removed by that time, they would be almost certain -of discovery, since every courageous ribbon-counter clerk -in Los Angeles hied valiantly to the mountains with a -high-powered rifle, to track the ferocious deer to its lair.</p> - -<p>At a quarter past twelve Evans heard the sounds for -which he had been so expectantly waiting. He opened -a small door in the end of the hay barn, through which -there filed in silence six burdened burros, led by one -swarthy Mexican and followed by another. Quietly the -men unpacked the burros and stored the thirty-six cases -in the chamber beneath the hay. Inside this same chamber, -by the light of a flash lamp, Evans counted out to one -of them the proceeds from the sale of the previous week. -The whole transaction consumed less than half an hour, -and was carried on with the exchange of less than a -dozen words. As silently as they had come the men -departed, with their burros, into the darkness toward the -hills, and young Evans made his way to his room and -to bed.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">As</span> the weeks passed, the routine of ranch life -weighed more and more heavily on Custer Pennington. -The dull monotony of it took the zest from the things -that he had formerly regarded as the pleasures of existence. -The buoyant Apache no longer had power to thrill. -The long rides were but obnoxious duties to be performed. -The hills had lost their beauty.</p> - -<p>Custer attributed his despondency to an unkind face -that had thwarted his ambitions. He thought that he -hated Ganado; and he thought, too—he honestly thought—that -freedom to battle for success in the heart of some -great city would bring happiness and content. For all -that, he performed his duties and bore himself as cheerfully -as ever before the other members of his family, -though his mother and sister saw that when he thought -he was alone and unobserved he often sat with drooping -shoulders, staring at the ground, in an attitude of dejection -which their love could scarce misinterpret.</p> - -<p>The frequent letters that came from Grace during her -first days in Hollywood had breathed a spirit of hopefulness -and enthusiasm that might have proven contagious, -but for the fact that he saw in her success a longer and -probably a permanent separation. If she should be -speedily discouraged, she might return to the foothills -and put the idea of a career forever from her mind; but -if she received even the slightest encouragement, Custer -was confident that nothing could wean her from her ambition. -He was the more sure of this because in his own -mind he could picture no inducement sufficiently powerful -to attract any one to return to the humdrum existence -of the ranch. Better be a failure in the midst of life,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span> -he put it to himself, than a success in the unpeopled -spaces of its outer edge.</p> - -<p>Ensuing weeks brought fewer letters, and there was -less of enthusiasm, though hope was still unquenched. -She had not yet met the right people, Grace said, and -there was a general depression in the entire picture industry. -Universal had a new manager, and there was -no guessing what his policy would be; Goldwyn had laid -off half their force; Robertson-Cole had shut down. She -was sure, though, that things would brighten up later, -and that she would have her chance. Would they please -tell her how Senator was, and give him her love, and -kiss the Apache for her? There was just a note, perhaps, -of homesickness in some of her letters; and gradually -they became fewer and shorter.</p> - -<p>The little gatherings of the neighbors at Ganado continued. -Other young people of the valley and the foothills -came and danced, or swam, or played tennis. Their -elders came, too, equally enjoying the hospitality of the -Penningtons; and among these was the new owner of the -little orchard beyond the Evans ranch.</p> - -<p>The Penningtons had found Mrs. Burke a quiet woman -of refined tastes, and the possessor a quiet humor that -made her always a welcome addition to the family circle. -That she had known more of sorrow than of happiness -was evidenced in many ways, but that she had risen -above the petty selfishness of grief was strikingly apparent -in her thoughtfulness for others, her quick sympathy, -and the kindliness of her humor. Whatever ills -fate had brought her, they had not left her soured.</p> - -<p>As she came oftener, and came to know the Penningtons -better, she depended more and more on the colonel -for advice in matters pertaining to her orchard and her -finances. Of personal matters she never spoke. They -knew that she had a daughter living in Los Angeles; but -of the girl they knew nothing, for deep in the heart of -Mrs. George Burke, who had been born Charity Cooper, -was a strain of Puritanism that could not look with aught<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -but horror upon the stage and its naughty little sister, -the screen—though in her letters to that loved daughter -there was no suggestion of the pain that the fond heart -held because of the career the girl had chosen.</p> - -<p>Charity Cooper’s youth had been so surrounded by -restrictions that at eighteen she was as unsophisticated -as a child of twelve. As a result, she had easily succumbed -to the blandishments of an unscrupulous young -Irish adventurer, who had thought that her fine family -connections indicated wealth. When he learned the contrary, -shortly after their marriage, he promptly deserted -her, nor had she seen or heard aught of him since. Of -him she never spoke, and of course the Penningtons never -questioned her.</p> - -<p>At thirty-nine Mrs. George Burke still retained much -of the frail and delicate beauty that had been hers in -girlhood. The effort of moving from her old home and -settling the new, followed by the responsibilities of the -unfamiliar and highly technical activities of orange culture, -had drawn heavily upon her always inadequate -vitality. As the Penningtons became better acquainted -with her, they began to feel real concern as to her physical -condition; and this concern was not lessened by the knowledge -that she had been giving the matter serious thought, -as was evidenced by her request that the colonel would -permit her to name him as executor of her estate in a -will that she was making.</p> - -<p>While life upon Ganado took its peaceful way, outwardly -unruffled, the girl whose image was in the hearts -of them all strove valiantly in the face of recurring disappointment -toward the high goal upon which her eyes -were set.</p> - -<p>If she could only have a chance! How often that half -prayer, half cry of anguish, was in the silent voicing of -her thoughts! If she could only have a chance!</p> - -<p>In the weeks of tramping from studio to studio she -had learned much. For one thing, she had come to know -the ruthlessness of a certain type of man that must and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -will some day be driven from the industry—that is, in -fact, even now being driven out, though slowly, by the -stress of public opinion and by the example of the men -of finer character who are gradually making a higher code -of ethics for the studios.</p> - -<p>She had learned even more from the scores of chance -acquaintances who, through repeated meetings in the -outer offices of casting directors, had become almost -friends. Indeed, when she found herself facing the actuality -of one of the more repulsive phases of studio procedure, -it appeared more in the guise of habitude through -the many references to it that she had heard from the -lips of her more experienced fellows.</p> - -<p>She was interviewing, for the dozenth time, the casting -director of the K. K. S. Studio, who had come to -know her by sight, and perhaps to feel a little compassion -for her—though there are those who will tell you that -casting directors, having no hearts, can never experience -so human an emotion as compassion.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, Miss Evans,” he said; “but I haven’t a -thing for you to-day.” As she turned away, he raised -his hand. “Wait!” he said. “Mr. Crumb is casting his -new picture himself. He’s out on the lot now. Go out -and see him—he might be able to use you.”</p> - -<p>The girl thanked him and made her way from the office -building in search of Crumb. She stepped over light -cables and picked her way across stages that were littered -with the heterogeneous jumble of countless interior -sets. She dodged the assistants of a frantic technical -director who was attempting to transform an African -water hole into a Roman bath in an hour and forty-five -minutes. She bumped against a heavy shipping crate, -through the iron-barred end of which a savage lioness -growled and struck at her. Finally she discovered a -single individual who seemed to have nothing to do and -who therefore might be approached with a query as to -where Mr. Crumb might be found. This resplendent idler -directed her to an Algerian street set behind the stages,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span> -and as he spoke she recognized him as the leading male -star of the organization, the highest salaried person on -the lot.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later she found the man she sought. -She had never seen Wilson Crumb before, and her first -impression was a pleasant one, for he was courteous and -affable. She told him that she had been to the casting -director, and that he had said that Mr. Crumb might be -able to use her. As she spoke, the man watched her -intently, his eyes running quickly over her figure without -suggestion of offense.</p> - -<p>“What experience have you had?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Just a few times as an extra,” she replied.</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid I can’t use you,” he said; “unless”—he -hesitated—“unless you would care to work in the semi-nude, -which would necessitate making a test—in the -nude.”</p> - -<p>He waited for her reply. Grace Evans gulped. She -could feel a scarlet flush mounting rapidly until it suffused -her entire face. She could not understand why -it was necessary to try her out in any less garmenture -than would pass the censors; but then that is something -which no one can understand.</p> - -<p>Here, possibly, was her opportunity. She had read -in the papers that Wilson Crumb was preparing to make -the greatest picture of his career. She thought of her -constant prayer for a chance. Here was a chance, and -yet she hesitated. The brutal, useless condition he had -imposed outraged every instinct of decency and refinement -inherent in her, just as it has outraged the same -characteristics in countless other girls—just as it is doing -in other studios in all parts of the country every day.</p> - -<p>“Is that absolutely essential?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Quite so,” he replied.</p> - -<p>Still she hesitated. Her chance! If she let it pass, -she might as well pack up and return home. What a -little thing to do, after all, when one really considered it!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> -It was purely professional. There would be nothing -personal in it, if she could only succeed in overcoming -her self-consciousness; but <em>could</em> she do it?</p> - -<p>Again she thought of home. A hundred times, of late, -she had wished that she was back there; but she did not -want to go back a failure. It was that which decided her.</p> - -<p>“Very well,” she said; “but there will not be many -there will there?”</p> - -<p>“Only a camera man and myself,” he replied. “If it is -convenient, I can arrange it immediately.”</p> - -<p>Two hours later Grace Evans left the K. K. S. lot. She -was to start work on the morrow at fifty dollars a week -for the full period of the picture. Wilson Crumb had -told her that she had a wonderful future, and that she was -fortunate to have fallen in with a director who could -make a great star of her. As she went, she left behind -all her self-respect and part of her natural modesty.</p> - -<p>Wilson Crumb, watching her go, rubbed the ball of -his right thumb to and fro across the back of his left -hand, and smiled.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>The Apache danced along the wagon trail that led -back into the hills. He tugged at the bit and tossed his -head impatiently, flecking his rider’s shirt with foam. He -lifted his feet high and twisted and wriggled like an eel. -He wanted to be off, and he wondered what had come -over his old pal that there were no more swift, gay gallops, -and that washes were crossed sedately by way of -their gravelly bottoms, instead of being taken with a -flying leap.</p> - -<p>Presently he cocked an eye ahead, as if in search of -something. A moment later he leaped suddenly sidewise, -snorting in apparent terror.</p> - -<p>“You old fool!” said Pennington affectionately.</p> - -<p>The horse had shied at a large white bowlder lying -beside the wagon trail. For nearly three years he had -shied at it religiously every time he had passed it. Long -before they reached it he always looked ahead to see<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -if it was still there, and he would have been terribly disappointed -had it been missing. The man always knew -that the horse was going to shy—he would have been disappointed -if the Apache had not played this little game -of make-believe. To carry the game to its conclusion, -the rider should gather him and force him snorting and -trembling, right up to the bowlder, talking to him coaxingly -and stroking his arched neck, but at the same time -not neglecting to press the spurs against his glossy sides -if he hesitated.</p> - -<p>The Apache loved it. He loved the power that was -his as exemplified by the quick, wide leap aside, and he -loved the power of the man to force his nose to the -bowlder—the power that gave him such confidence in -his rider that he would go wherever he was asked to go; -but to-day he was disappointed. His pal did not force -him to the bowlder. Instead, Custer Pennington merely -reined him into the trail again beyond it and rode on up -Jackknife Cañon.</p> - -<p>Custer was looking over the pasture. It was late July. -The hills were no longer green, except where their sides -and summits were clothed with chaparral. The lower -hills were browning beneath the hot summer sun, but -they were still beautiful, dotted as they were with walnut -and live oak.</p> - -<p>As Pennington rode, he recalled the last time he had -ridden through Jackknife with Grace. She had been -gone two months now—it seemed as many years. She -no longer wrote often, and when she did write her letters -were short and unsatisfying. He recalled all the -incidents of that last ride, and they reminded him again of -the new-made trail they had discovered, and of his oft -repeated intention of following it to see where it led. -He had never had the time—he did not have the time -to-day. The heifers with their calves were still in this -pasture. He counted them, examined the condition of -the feed, and rode back to the house.</p> - -<p>It was Friday. From the hill beyond Jackknife a man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -had watched through binoculars his every move. Three -other men had been waiting below the watcher along the -new-made trail. It was well for Pennington that he had -not chosen that day to investigate.</p> - -<p>After he had turned back toward the ranch, the man -with the binoculars descended to the others.</p> - -<p>“It was young Pennington,” he said. The speaker was -Allen. “I was thinking that it would be a fool trick to -kill him, unless we have to. I have a better scheme. -Listen—if he ever learns anything that he shouldn’t know, -this is what you are to do, if I am away.”</p> - -<p>Very carefully and in great detail he elaborated his -plan.</p> - -<p>“Do you understand?” he asked.</p> - -<p>They did, and they grinned.</p> - -<p>The following night, after the Penningtons had dined, -a ranch hand came up from Mrs. Burke’s to tell them -that their new neighbor was quite ill, and that the woman -who did her housework wanted Mrs. Pennington to -come down at once as she was worried about her -mistress.</p> - -<p>“We will be right down,” said Colonel Pennington.</p> - -<p>They found Mrs. Burke breathing with difficulty, and -the colonel immediately telephoned for a local doctor. -After the physician had examined her, he came to them -in the living room.</p> - -<p>“You had better send for Jones, of Los Angeles,” he -said. “It is her heart. I can do nothing. I doubt if -he can; but he is a specialist. And,” he added, “if she -has any near relatives, I think I should notify them—at -once.”</p> - -<p>The housekeeper had joined them, and was wiping -tears from her face with her apron.</p> - -<p>“She has a daughter in Los Angeles,” said the colonel; -“but we do not know her address.”</p> - -<p>“She wrote her to-day, just before this spell,” said the -housekeeper. “The letter hasn’t been mailed yet—here -it is.”</p> - -<p>She picked it up from the center table and handed it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -to the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Miss Shannon Burke, 1580 Panizo Circle, Hollywood,” -he read. “I will take the responsibility of wiring -both Miss Burke and Dr. Jones. Can you get a good -nurse locally?”</p> - -<p>The doctor could, and so it was arranged.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Gaza de Lure</span> was sitting at the piano when Crumb arrived -at the bungalow at 1421 Vista del Paso at a little -after six in the evening of the last Saturday in July. The -smoke from a half burned cigarette lying on the ebony -case was rising in a thin, indolent column above the -masses of her black hair. Her fingers idled through a -dreamy waltz.</p> - -<p>Crumb gave her a surly nod as he closed the door behind -him. He was tired and cross after a hard day at -the studio. The girl, knowing that he would be all right -presently, merely returned his nod and continued playing. -He went immediately to his room, and a moment -later she heard him enter the bathroom through another -doorway.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later he emerged, shaved, spruce, and -smiling. A tiny powder had effected a transformation, -just as she had known that it would. He came and -leaned across the piano, close to her. She was very -beautiful. It seemed to the man that she grew more -beautiful and more desirable each day. The fact that -she had been unattainable had fed the fires of his desire, -transforming infatuation into as near a thing to love -as a man of his type can ever feel.</p> - -<p>“Well, little girl!” he cried gayly. “I have good news -for you.”</p> - -<p>She smiled a crooked little smile and shook her head.</p> - -<p>“The only good news that I can think of would be that -the government had established a comfortable home for -superannuated hop-heads, where they would be furnished, -without cost, with all the snow they could use.”</p> - -<p>The effects of her last shot were wearing off. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -laughed good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>“Really,” he insisted; “on the level, I’ve got the best -news you’ve heard in moons.”</p> - -<p>“Well?” she asked wearily.</p> - -<p>“Old Battle-Ax has got her divorce,” he announced, referring -thus affectionately to his wife.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the girl, “that’s good news—for her—if -it’s true.”</p> - -<p>Crumb frowned.</p> - -<p>“It’s good news for you,” he said. “It means that I -can marry you now.”</p> - -<p>The girl leaned back on the piano bench and laughed -aloud. It was not a pleasant laugh. She laughed until -the tears rolled down her cheeks.</p> - -<p>“What is there funny about that?” growled the man. -“It would mean a lot to you—respectability, for one thing, -and success, for another. The day you become Mrs. -Wilson Crumb I’ll star you in the greatest picture that -was ever made.”</p> - -<p>“Respectability!” she sneered. “Your name would -make me respectable, would it? It would be the insult -added to all the injury you have done me. And as for -starring—poof!” She snapped her fingers. “I have -but one ambition, thanks to you, you dirty hound, and that -is snow!” She leaned toward him, her two clenched fists -almost shaking in his face. “Give me all the snow I -need,” she cried, “and the rest of them may have their -fame and their laurels!”</p> - -<p>He thought he saw his chance then. Turning away -with a shrug, he walked to the fireplace and lighted a -cigarette.</p> - -<p>“Oh, very well!” he said. “If you feel that way -about it, all right; but”—he turned suddenly upon her—“you’ll -have to get out of here and stay out—do you -understand? From this day on you can only enter this -house as Mrs. Wilson Crumb, and you can rustle your -own dope if you don’t come back—understand?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him through narrowed lids. She reminded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -him of a tigress about to spring, and he backed -away.</p> - -<p>“Listen to me,” she commanded in slow, level tones. -“In the first place, you’re lying to me about your wife -getting her divorce. I’d have guessed as much if I hadn’t -known, for a hop-head can’t tell the truth; but I do know. -You got a letter from your attorney to-day telling you -that your wife still insists not only that she never will -divorce you, but that she will never allow you a divorce.”</p> - -<p>“You mean to say that you opened one of my letters?” -he demanded angrily.</p> - -<p>“Sure I opened it! I open ’em all—I steam ’em open. -What do you expect,” she almost screamed, “from the -thing you have made of me? Do you expect honor and -self-respect, or any other virtue, in a hype?”</p> - -<p>“You get out of here!” he cried. “You get out now—this -minute!”</p> - -<p>She rose from the bench and came and stood quite -close to him.</p> - -<p>“You’ll see that I get all the snow I want, if I go?” -she asked.</p> - -<p>He laughed nastily.</p> - -<p>“You don’t ever get another bindle,” he replied.</p> - -<p>“Wait!” she admonished. “I wasn’t through with -what I started to say a minute ago. You’ve been hitting -it long enough, Wilson, to know what one of our kind -will do to get it. You know that either you or I would -sacrifice soul and body if there was no other way. We -would lie, or steal, or—murder! Do you get that, Wilson—<em>murder</em>? -There is just one thing that I won’t do, but -that one thing is not murder, Wilson. Listen!” She -lifted her face close to his and looked him straight in -the eyes. “If you ever try to take it away from me, or -keep it from me, Wilson, I shall kill you.”</p> - -<p>Her tone was cold and unemotional, and because of -that, perhaps, the threat seemed very real. The man -paled.</p> - -<p>“Aw, come!” he cried. “What’s the use of our scrapping?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -I was only kidding, anyway. Run along and take -a shot—it’ll make you feel better.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she said, “I need one; but don’t get it into -your head that <em>I</em> was kidding. I wasn’t. I’d just as lief -kill you as not—the only trouble is that killing’s too -damned good for you, Wilson!”</p> - -<p>She walked toward the bathroom door.</p> - -<p>“Oh, by the way,” she said, pausing, “Allen called up -this afternoon. He’s in town, and will be up after dinner. -He wants his money.”</p> - -<p>She entered the bathroom and closed the door. Crumb -lighted another cigarette and threw himself into an easy -chair, where he sat scowling at a temple dog on a Chinese -rug.</p> - -<p>The Japanese “schoolboy” opened a door and announced -dinner, and a moment later Gaza joined Crumb in the -little dining room. They both smoked throughout the -meal, which they scarcely tasted. The girl was vivacious -and apparently happy. She seemed to have forgotten -the recent scene in the living room. She asked questions -about the new picture.</p> - -<p>“We’re going to commence shooting Monday,” he told -her. Momentarily he waxed almost enthusiastic. “I’m -going to have trouble with that boob author, though,” -he said. “If they’d kick him off the lot, and give me a -little more money, I’d make ’em the greatest picture ever -screened!”</p> - -<p>Then he relapsed into brooding silence.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Worrying about -Allen?”</p> - -<p>“Not exactly,” he said. “I’ll stall him off again.”</p> - -<p>“He isn’t going to be easy to stall this time,” she observed, -“if I gathered the correct idea from his line of -talk over the phone to-day. I can’t see what you’ve done -with all the coin, Wilson.”</p> - -<p>“You got yours, didn’t you?” he growled.</p> - -<p>“Sure, I got mine,” she answered, “and it’s nothing to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -me what you did with Allen’s share; but I’m here to -tell you that you’ve pulled a boner if you’ve double-crossed -him. I’m not much of a character reader, as -proved by my erstwhile belief that you were a high-minded -gentleman; but it strikes me the veriest boob -could see that that man Allen is a bad actor. You’d better -look out for him.”</p> - -<p>“I ain’t afraid of him,” blustered Crumb.</p> - -<p>“No, of course you’re not,” she agreed sarcastically. -“You’re a regular little lion-hearted Reginald, Wilson—that’s -what you are!”</p> - -<p>The doorbell rang.</p> - -<p>“There he is now,” said the girl.</p> - -<p>Crumb paled.</p> - -<p>“What makes you think he’s a bad man?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Look at his face—look at his eyes,” she admonished. -“Hard? He’s got a face like a brick-bat.”</p> - -<p>They rose from the table and entered the living room -as the Japanese opened the front door. The caller was -Slick Allen. Crumb rushed forward and greeted him -effusively.</p> - -<p>“Hello, old man!” he cried. “I’m mighty glad to see -you. Miss de Lure told me that you had phoned. Can’t -tell you how delighted I am!”</p> - -<p>Allen nodded to the girl, tossed his cap upon a bench -near the door, and crossed to the center of the room.</p> - -<p>“Won’t you sit down, Mr. Allen?” she suggested.</p> - -<p>“I ain’t got much time,” he said, lowering himself into -a chair. “I come up here, Crumb, to get some money.” -His cold, fishy eyes looked straight into Crumb’s. “I -come to get all the money there is comin’ to me. It’s a -trifle over ten thousand dollars, as I figure it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Crumb; “that’s about it.”</p> - -<p>“An’ I don’t want no stallin’ this time, either,” concluded -Allen.</p> - -<p>“Stalling!” exclaimed Crumb in a hurt tone. “Who’s -been stalling?”</p> - -<p>“You have.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear man!” cried Crumb deprecatingly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -“You know that in matters of this kind one must be -circumspect. There were reasons in the past why it -would have been unsafe to transfer so large an amount -to you. It might easily have been traced. I was being -watched—a fellow even shadowed me to the teller’s window -in my bank one day. You see how it is? Neither -of us can take chances.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, too,” said Allen; “but I’ve been taking -chances right along, and I ain’t been taking them for my -health. I been taking them for the coin, and I want that -coin—I want it <em>pronto</em>!”</p> - -<p>“You can most certainly have it,” said Crumb.</p> - -<p>“All right!” replied Allen, extending a palm. “Fork -it over.”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, you don’t think that I have it here, -do you?” demanded Crumb. “You don’t think I keep -such an amount as that in my home, I hope!”</p> - -<p>“Where is it?”</p> - -<p>“In the bank, of course.”</p> - -<p>“Gimme a check.”</p> - -<p>“You must be crazy! Suppose either of us was suspected; -that check would link us up fine. It would be as -bad for you as for me. Nothing doing! I’ll get the cash -when the bank opens on Monday. That’s the very best -I can do. If you’d written and let me know you were -coming, I could have had it for you.”</p> - -<p>Allen eyed him for a long minute.</p> - -<p>“Very well,” he said, at last. “I’ll wait till noon -Monday.”</p> - -<p>Crumb breathed an inward sigh of profound relief.</p> - -<p>“If you’re at the bank Monday morning, at half past -ten, you’ll get the money,” he said. “How’s the other stuff -going? Sorry I couldn’t handle that, but it’s too bulky.”</p> - -<p>“The hootch? It’s goin’ fine,” replied Allen. “Got a -young high-blood at the edge of the valley handlin’ it—fellow -by the name of Evans. He moves thirty-six cases -a week. The kid’s got a good head on him—worked the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> -whole scheme out himself. Sells the whole batch every -week, for cash, to a guy with a big truck. They cover -it with hay, and this guy hauls it right into the city in -broad daylight, unloads it in a warehouse he’s rented, -slips each case into a carton labeled somebody or other’s -soap, and delivers it a case at a time to a bunch of drug -stores. This second guy used to be a drug salesman, -and he’s personally acquainted with every grafter in the -business.”</p> - -<p>As he talked, Allen had been studying the girl’s face. -She had noticed it before; but she was used to having -men stare at her, and thought little of it. Finally he -addressed her.</p> - -<p>“Do you know, Miss de Lure,” he said, “there’s something -mighty familiar about your face? I noticed it the -first time I came here, and I been studyin’ over it since. -It seems like I’d known you somewhere else, or some one -you look a lot like; but I can’t quite get it straight in -my head. I can’t make out where it was, or when, or -if it was you or some one else. I’ll get it some day, -though.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” she replied. “I’m sure I never saw -you before you came here with Mr. Crumb the first time.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know, either,” replied Allen, scratching -his head; “but it’s mighty funny.” He rose. “I’ll -be goin’,” he said. “See you Monday at the bank—ten -thirty sharp, Crumb!”</p> - -<p>“Sure, ten thirty sharp,” repeated Crumb, rising. “Oh, -say, Allen, will you do me a favor? I promised a fellow -I’d bring him a bindle of M to-night, and if you’ll hand -it to him it’ll save me the trip. It’s right on your way -to the car line. You’ll find him in the alley back of -the Hollywood Drug Store, just west of Cuyhenga on the -south side of Hollywood Boulevard.”</p> - -<p>“Sure, glad to accommodate,” said Allen; “but how’ll -I know him?”</p> - -<p>“He’ll be standin’ there, and you walk up and ask him -the time. If he tells you, and then asks if you can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> -change a five, you’ll know he’s the guy all right. Then -you hand him these two ones and a fifty-cent piece, and -he hands you a five-dollar bill. That’s all there is to -it. Inside these two ones I’ll wrap a bindle of M. You -can give me the five Monday morning when I see you.”</p> - -<p>“Slip me the junk,” said Allen.</p> - -<p>The girl had risen, and was putting on her coat and -hat.</p> - -<p>“Where are you going—home so early?” asked Crumb.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she replied. “I’m tired, and I want to write -a letter.”</p> - -<p>“I thought you lived here,” said Allen.</p> - -<p>“I’m here nearly all day, but I go home nights,” replied -the girl.</p> - -<p>Slick Allen looked puzzled as he left the bungalow.</p> - -<p>“Goin’ my way?” he asked of the girl, as they reached -the sidewalk.</p> - -<p>“No,” she replied. “I go in the opposite direction. -Good night!”</p> - -<p>“Good night!” said Allen, and turned toward Hollywood -Boulevard.</p> - -<p>Inside the bungalow Crumb was signaling central for -a connection.</p> - -<p>“Give me the police station on Cuyhenga, near Hollywood,” -he said. “I haven’t time to look up the number. -Quick—it’s important!”</p> - -<p>There was a moment’s silence and then:</p> - -<p>“Hello! What is this? Listen! If you want to get -a hop-head with the goods on him—right in the act of -peddling—send a dick to the back of the Hollywood -Drug Store, and have him wait there until a guy comes -up and asks what time it is. Then have the dick tell -him and say, ‘Can you change a five?’ That’s the cue -for the guy to slip him a bindle of morphine rolled up -in a couple of one-dollar bills. If you don’t send a -dummy, he’ll know what to do next—and you’d better -get him there in a hurry. What? No—oh, just a friend—just -a friend.”</p> - -<p>Wilson Crumb hung up the receiver. There was a grin<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -on his face as he turned away from the instrument.</p> - -<p>“It’s too bad, Allen, but I’m afraid you won’t be at -the bank at half past ten on Monday morning!” he said.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">As</span> Gaza de Lure entered the house in which she -roomed, her landlady came hastily from the living room.</p> - -<p>“Is that you, Miss Burke?” she asked. “Here is a -telegram that came for you just a few minutes ago. I -do hope it’s not bad news!”</p> - -<p>The girl took the yellow envelope and tore it open. -She read the message through very quickly and then -again slowly, her brows puckered into a little frown, -as if she could not quite understand the meaning of -the words she read.</p> - -<p>“Your mother ill,” the telegram said. “Possibly not -serious—doctor thinks best you come—will meet you -morning train.” It was signed “Custer Pennington.”</p> - -<p>“I do hope it’s not bad news,” repeated the landlady.</p> - -<p>“My mother is ill. They have sent for me,” said the -girl. “I wonder if you would be good enough to call -up the S. P. and ask the first train I can get that stops -at Ganado, while I run upstairs and pack my bag?”</p> - -<p>“You poor little dear!” exclaimed the landlady. “I’m -so sorry! I’ll call right away, and then I’ll come up -and help you.”</p> - -<p>A few minutes later she came up to say that the first -train left at nine o’clock in the morning. She offered -to help pack; but the girl said there was nothing that she -could not do herself.</p> - -<p>“I must go out first for a few minutes,” Gaza told -her. “Then I will come back and finish packing the few -things that it will be necessary to take.”</p> - -<p>When the landlady had left, the girl stood staring -dully at the black traveling bag that she had brought from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -the closet and placed on her bed; but she did not see the -bag or the few pieces of lingerie that she had taken -from her dresser drawers. She saw only the sweet face -of her mother, and the dear smile that had always shone -there to soothe each childish trouble—the smile that had -lighted the girl’s dark days, even after she had left -home.</p> - -<p>For a long time she stood there thinking—trying to -realize what it would mean to her if the worst should -come. It could make no difference, she realized, except -that it might perhaps save her mother from a still greater -sorrow. It was the girl who was dead, though the -mother did not guess it; she had been dead for many -months. This hollow, shaking husk was not Shannon -Burke—it was not the thing that the mother had loved. -It was almost a sacrilege to take it up there into the clean -country and flaunt it in the face of so sacred a thing -as mother love.</p> - -<p>The girl stepped quickly to a writing desk, and, drawing -a key from her vanity case, unlocked it. She took -from it a case containing a hypodermic syringe and a -few small phials; then she crossed the hall to the bathroom. -When she came back, she looked rested and -less nervous. She returned the things to the desk, locked -it, and ran downstairs.</p> - -<p>“I will be back in a few minutes,” she called to the -landlady. “I shall have to arrange a few things to-night -with a friend.”</p> - -<p>She went directly to the Vista del Paso bungalow. -Crumb was surprised and not a little startled as he -heard her key in the door. He had a sudden vision of -Allen returning, and he went white; but when he saw -who it was he was no less surprised, for the girl had -never before returned after leaving for the night.</p> - -<p>“My gracious!” he exclaimed. “Look who’s here!”</p> - -<p>She did not return his smile.</p> - -<p>“I found a telegram at home,” she said, “that necessitates -my going away for a few days. I came over to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span> -tell you, and to get a little snow to last me until I come -back. Where I am going they don’t have it, I imagine.”</p> - -<p>He looked at her through narrowed, suspicious lids.</p> - -<p>“You’re going to quit me!” he cried accusingly. -“That’s why you went out with Allen! You can’t get -away with it. I’ll never let you go. Do you hear me? -I’ll never let you go!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be a fool, Wilson,” she replied. “My mother -is ill, and I have been sent for.”</p> - -<p>“Your mother? You never told me you had a mother.”</p> - -<p>“But I have, though I don’t care to talk about her -to you. She needs me, and I am going.”</p> - -<p>He was still suspicious.</p> - -<p>“Are you telling me the truth? Will you come back?”</p> - -<p>“You know I’ll come back,” she said. “I shall have -to,” she added with a weary sigh.</p> - -<p>“Yes, you’ll have to. You can’t get along without -it. You’ll come back all right—I’ll see to that!”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“How much snow you got home?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“You know I keep scarcely any there. I forgot my -case to-day—left it in my desk, so I had a little there—a -couple of shots, maybe.”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” he said. “I’ll give you enough to last -a week—then you’ll have to come home.”</p> - -<p>“You say you’ll give me enough to last a week?” the -girl repeated questioningly. “I’ll take what I want—it’s -as much mine as yours!”</p> - -<p>“But you don’t get any more than I’m going to give -you. I won’t have you gone more than a week. I can’t -live without you—don’t you understand? I believe you -have a wooden heart, or none at all!”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” she said, yawning, “you can get some other -poor fool to peddle it for you if I don’t come back; but -I’m coming, never fear. You’re as bad as the snow—I -hate you both, but I can’t live without either of you. -I don’t feel like quarreling, Wilson. Give me the stuff—enough -to last a week, for I’ll be home before that.”</p> - -<p>He went to the bathroom and made a little package up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> -for her.</p> - -<p>“Here!” he said, returning to the living room. “That -ought to last you a week.”</p> - -<p>She took it and slipped it into her case.</p> - -<p>“Well, good-by,” she said, turning toward the door.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you going to kiss me good-by?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Have I ever kissed you, since I learned that you -had a wife?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“No,” he admitted; “but you might kiss me good-by -now, when you’re going away for a whole week.”.</p> - -<p>“Nothing doing, Wilson!” she said with a negative -shake of the head. “I’d as lief kiss a Gila monster!”</p> - -<p>He made a wry face.</p> - -<p>“You’re sure candid,” he said.</p> - -<p>She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of indifference -and moved toward the door.</p> - -<p>“I can’t make you out, Gaza,” he said. “I used to -think you loved me, and the Lord knows I certainly love -you! You are the only woman I ever really loved. A -year ago I believe you would have married me, but now -you won’t even let me kiss you. Sometimes I think there -is some one else. If I thought you loved another man, -<span class="locked">I’d—I’d——”</span></p> - -<p>“No, you wouldn’t. You were going to say that -you’d kill me, but you wouldn’t. You haven’t the nerve -of a rabbit. You needn’t worry—there isn’t any other -man, and there never will be. After knowing you I could -never respect any man, much less love one of ’em. You’re -all alike—rotten! And let me tell you something—I -never did love you. I liked you at first, before I knew -the hideous thing that you had done to me. I would -have married you, and I would have made you a good -wife, too—you know that. I wish I could believe that -you do love me. I know of nothing, Wilson, that would -give me more pleasure than to <em>know</em> that you loved -me madly; but of course you’re not capable of loving -anything madly, except yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I do love you, Gaza,” he said seriously. “I love you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -so that I would rather die than live without you.”</p> - -<p>She cocked her head on one side and eyed him -quizzically.</p> - -<p>“I hope you do,” she told him; “for if it’s the truth, -I can repay you some measure of the suffering you -have caused me. I can be around where you can never -get a chance to forget me, or to forget the fact that -you want me, but can never have me. You’ll see me -every day, and every day you will suffer vain regrets -for the happiness that might have been yours, if you -had been a decent, honorable man; but you are not -decent, you are not honorable, you are not even a man!”</p> - -<p>He tried to laugh derisively, but she saw the slow -red creep to his face and knew that she had scored.</p> - -<p>“I hope you’ll feel better when you come back from -your mother’s,” he said. “You haven’t been very good -company lately. Oh, by the way, where did you say -you are going?”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t say,” she replied.</p> - -<p>“Won’t you give me your address?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“But suppose something happens? Suppose I want -to get word to you?” Crumb insisted.</p> - -<p>“You’ll have to wait until I get back,” she told him.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why you can’t tell me where you’re going,” -he grumbled.</p> - -<p>“Because there is a part of my life that you and your -sort have never entered,” she replied. “I would as lief -take a physical leper to my mother as a moral one. I -cannot even discuss her with you without a feeling that -I have besmirched her.”</p> - -<p>On her face was an expression of unspeakable disgust -as she passed through the doorway of the bungalow -and closed the door behind her. Wilson Crumb simulated -a shudder.</p> - -<p>“I sure was a damn fool,” he mused. “Gaza would -have made the greatest emotional actress the screen has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -ever known, if I’d given her a chance. I guessed her -wrong and played her wrong. She’s not like any woman -I ever saw before. I should have made her a great -success and won her gratitude—that’s the way I ought -to have played her. Oh, well, what’s the difference? -She’ll come back!”</p> - -<p>He rose and went to the bathroom, snuffed half a -grain of cocaine, and then collected all the narcotics -hidden there and every vestige of contributary evidence -of their use by the inmates of the bungalow. Dragging -a small table into his bedroom closet, he mounted and -opened a trap leading into the air space between the ceiling -and the roof. Into this he clambered, carrying the -drugs with him.</p> - -<p>They were wrapped in a long, thin package, to which -a light, strong cord was attached. With this cord he -lowered the package into the space between the sheathing -and the inner wall, fastening the end of the cord -to a nail driven into one of the studs at arm’s length -below the wall plate.</p> - -<p>“There!” he thought, as he clambered back into the -closet. “It’ll take some dick to uncover that junk!”</p> - -<p>Hidden between plaster and sheathing of the little -bungalow was a fortune in narcotics. Only a small fraction -of their stock had the two peddlers kept in the -bathroom, and Crumb had now removed that, in case -Allen should guess that he had been betrayed by his -confederate and direct the police to the bungalow, or the -police themselves should trace his call and make an -investigation on their own account. He realized that -he had taken a great risk; but his stratagem had saved -him from the deadly menace of Allen’s vengeance, at -least for the present. The fact that there must ultimately -be an accounting with the man he put out of his -mind. It would be time enough to meet that contingency -when it arose.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, the police came to the bungalow -that very evening; but through no clew obtained from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -Allen, who, while he had suspicions that were tantamount -to conviction, chose to await the time when he -might wreak his revenge in his own way. The desk -sergeant had traced the call to Crumb, and after the -arrest had been made a couple of detective sergeants -called upon him. They were quiet, pleasant-spoken men, -with an ingratiating way that might have deceived the -possessor of a less suspicious brain than Crumb’s.</p> - -<p>“The lieutenant sent us over to thank you for that -tip,” said the spokesman. “We got him all right, with -the junk on him.”</p> - -<p>Not for nothing was Wilson Crumb a talented actor. -None there was who could better have registered polite -and uninterested incomprehension.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid,” he said, “that I don’t quite get you. -What tip? What are you talking about?”</p> - -<p>“You called up the station, Mr. Crumb. We had central -trace the call. There is no <span class="locked">use——”</span></p> - -<p>Crumb interrupted him with a gesture. He didn’t -want the officer to go so far that it might embarrass him -to retract.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” he exclaimed, a light of understanding illuminating -his face. “I believe I have it. What was the message? -I think I can explain it.”</p> - -<p>“We think you can, too,” agreed the sergeant, “seein’ -you phoned the message.”</p> - -<p>“No, but I didn’t,” said Crumb, “although I guess it -may have come over my phone all right. I’ll tell you -what I know about it. A car drove up a little while -after dinner, and a man came to the door. He was a -stranger. He asked if I had a phone, and if he could -use it. He said he wanted to phone an important and -confidential message to his wife. He emphasized the -‘confidential,’ and there was nothing for me to do but -go in the other room until he was through. He was only -a minute or two talking, and then he called me. He -wanted to pay for the use of the phone. I didn’t hear -what he said over the phone, but I guess that explains<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> -the matter. I’ll be careful next time a stranger wants -to use my phone.”</p> - -<p>“I would,” said the sergeant dryly. “Would you know -him if you saw him again?”</p> - -<p>“I sure would,” said Crumb.</p> - -<p>They rose to go.</p> - -<p>“Nice little place you have here,” remarked one of -them, looking around.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Crumb, “it is very comfortable. Wouldn’t -you like to look it over?”</p> - -<p>“No,” replied the officer. “Not now—maybe some -other time.”</p> - -<p>Crumb grinned after he had closed the door behind -them.</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” he mused, “if that was a threat or a -prophecy!”</p> - -<p>A week later Slick Allen was sentenced to a year in -the county jail for having morphine in his possession.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">As</span> Shannon Burke alighted from the Southern Pacific -train at Ganado, the following morning, a large, -middle-aged man in riding clothes approached her.</p> - -<p>“Is this Miss Burke?” he asked. “I am Colonel -Pennington.”</p> - -<p>She noted that his face was grave, and it frightened -her.</p> - -<p>“Tell me about my mother,” she said. “How is she?”</p> - -<p>He put an arm about the girl’s shoulders.</p> - -<p>“Come,” he said. “Mrs. Pennington is waiting over at -the car.”</p> - -<p>Her question was answered. Numb with dread and -suffering, she crossed the station platform with him, the -kindly, protecting arm still about her. Beside a closed -car a woman was standing. As they approached, she -came forward, put her arms about the girl, and kissed -her.</p> - -<p>Seated in the tonneau between the colonel and Mrs. -Pennington, the girl sought to steady herself. She had -taken no morphine since the night before, for she had -wanted to come to her mother “clean,” as she would -have expressed it. She realized now that it was a mistake, -for she had the sensation of shattered nerves on the -verge of collapse. Mastering all her resources, she fought -for self-control with an effort that was almost physically -noticeable.</p> - -<p>“Tell me about it,” she said at length in a low voice.</p> - -<p>“It was very sudden,” said the colonel. “It was a -heart attack. Everything that possibly could be done in -so short a time was done. Nothing would have changed -the outcome, however. We had Dr. Jones of Los Angeles<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -down—he motored down and arrived here about half an -hour before the end. He told us that he could have -done nothing.”</p> - -<p>They were silent for a while as the fast car rolled over -the smooth road toward the hills ahead. Presently it -slowed down, turned in between orange trees, and stopped -before a tiny bungalow a hundred yards from the highway.</p> - -<p>“We thought you would want to come here first of all, -dear,” said Mrs. Pennington. “Afterward we are going -to take you home with us.”</p> - -<p>They accompanied her to the tiny living room, where -they introduced her to the housekeeper, and to the nurse, -who had remained at Colonel Pennington’s request. Then -they opened the door of a sunny bedroom, and, closing -it after her as she entered left her alone with her dead.</p> - -<p>Beyond the thin panels they could hear her sobbing; -but when she emerged fifteen minutes later, though her -eyes were red, she was not crying. They thought then -that she had marvelous self-control; but could they have -known the hideous battle that she was fighting against -grief and the insistent craving for morphine, and the -raw, taut nerves that would give her no peace, and the -shattered will that begged only to be allowed to sleep—could -they have known all this, they would have realized -that they were witnessing a miracle.</p> - -<p>They led her back to the car, where she sat with wide -eyes staring straight ahead. She wanted to scream, to -tear her clothing, to do anything but sit there quiet and -rigid. The short drive to Ganado seemed to the half -mad girl to occupy hours. She saw nothing, not even -the quiet, restful ranch house as the car swung up the -hill and stopped at the north entrance. In her mind’s -eye was nothing but the face of her dead mother and the -little black case in her traveling bag.</p> - -<p>The colonel helped her from the car and a sweet-faced -young girl came and put her arms about her and -kissed her, as Mrs. Pennington had done at the station.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> -In a dazed sort of way Shannon understood that they -were telling her the girl’s name—that she was a daughter -of the Penningtons. The girl accompanied the visitor to -the rooms she was to occupy.</p> - -<p>Shannon wished to be alone—she wanted to get at -the black case in the traveling bag. Why didn’t the girl -go away? She wanted to take her by the shoulders and -throw her out of the room; yet outwardly she was calm -and self-possessed.</p> - -<p>Very carefully she turned toward the girl. It required -a supreme effort not to tremble, and to keep her voice -from rising to a scream.</p> - -<p>“Please,” she said, “I should like to be alone.”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said the girl, and left the room, closing -the door behind her.</p> - -<p>Shannon crept stealthily to the door and turned the -key in the lock. Then she wheeled and almost fell upon -the traveling bag in her eagerness to get the small black -case within it. She was trembling from head to foot, -her eyes were wide and staring, and she mumbled to herself -as she prepared the white powder and drew the liquid -into the syringe.</p> - -<p>Momentarily, however, she gathered herself together. -For a few seconds she stood looking at the glass and -metal instrument in her fingers—beyond it she saw her -mother’s face.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to do it,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to -do it, mother!” Her lower lip quivered, and tears came. -“My God, I can’t help it!” Almost viciously she plunged -the needle beneath her skin. “I didn’t want to do it to-day, -of all days, with you lying over there all alone—dead!”</p> - -<p>She threw herself across the bed and broke into uncontrolled -sobbing; but her nerves were relaxed, and the -expression of her grief was normal. Finally she sobbed -herself to sleep, for she had not slept at all the night -before.</p> - -<p>It was afternoon when she awoke, and again she felt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -the craving for a narcotic. This time she did not fight it. -She had lost the battle—why renew it? She bathed and -dressed and took another shot before leaving her rooms—a -guest suite on the second floor. She descended the -stairs, which opened directly into the patio, and almost -ran against a tall, broad-shouldered young man in flannel -shirt and riding breeches, with boots and spurs. He -stepped quickly back.</p> - -<p>“Miss Burke, I believe?” he inquired. “I am Custer -Pennington.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it was you who wired me,” she said.</p> - -<p>“No—that was my father.”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid I did not thank him for all his kindness. -I must have seemed very ungrateful.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, indeed, Miss Burke,” he said, with a quick -smile of sympathy. “We all understand, perfectly—you -have suffered a severe nervous shock. We just want to -help you all we can, and we are sorry that there is so -little we can do.”</p> - -<p>“I think you have done a great deal, already, for a -stranger.”</p> - -<p>“Not a stranger exactly,” he hastened to assure her. -“We were all so fond of your mother that we feel that -her daughter can scarcely be considered a stranger. She -was a very lovable woman, Miss Burke—a very fine -woman.”</p> - -<p>Shannon felt tears in her eyes, and turned them away -quickly. Very gently he touched her arm.</p> - -<p>“Mother heard you moving about in your rooms, and -she has gone over to the kitchen to make some tea for -you. If you will come with me, I’ll show you to the -breakfast room. She’ll have it ready in a jiffy.”</p> - -<p>She followed him through the living room and the -library to the dining room, beyond which a small breakfast -room looked out toward the peaceful hills. Young -Pennington opened a door leading from the dining room -to the butler’s pantry, and called to his mother.</p> - -<p>“Miss Burke is down,” he said.</p> - -<p>The girl turned immediately from the breakfast room<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> -and entered the butler’s pantry.</p> - -<p>“Can’t I help, Mrs. Pennington? I don’t want you to -go to any trouble for me. You have all been so good -already!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Pennington laughed.</p> - -<p>“Bless your heart, dear, it’s no trouble. The water -is boiling, and Hannah has made some toast. We were -just waiting to ask if you prefer green tea or black.”</p> - -<p>“Green, if you please,” said Shannon, coming into the -kitchen.</p> - -<p>Custer had followed her, and was leaning against the -door frame.</p> - -<p>“This is Hannah, Miss Burke,” said Mrs. Pennington.</p> - -<p>“I am so glad to know you, Hannah,” said the girl. “I -hope you won’t think me a terrible nuisance.”</p> - -<p>“Hannah’s a brick,” interposed the young man. “You -can muss around her kitchen all you want, and she never -gets mad.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure she doesn’t,” agreed Shannon; “but people -who are late to meals <em>are</em> a nuisance, and I promise that I -shan’t be again. I fell asleep.”</p> - -<p>“You may change your mind about being late to meals -when you learn the hour we breakfast,” laughed Custer.</p> - -<p>“No—I shall be on time.”</p> - -<p>“You shall stay in bed just as late as you please,” said -Mrs. Pennington. “You mustn’t think of getting up -when we do. You need all the rest you can get.”</p> - -<p>They seemed to take it for granted that Shannon was -going to stay with them, instead of going to the little -bungalow that had been her mother’s—the truest type of -hospitality, because, requiring no oral acceptance, it suggested -no obligation.</p> - -<p>“But I cannot impose on you so much,” she said. -“After dinner I must go down <span class="locked">to—to——”</span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Pennington did not permit her to finish.</p> - -<p>“No, dear,” she said, quietly but definitely. “You are -to stay here with us until you return to the city. Colonel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span> -Pennington has arranged with the nurse to remain with -your mother’s housekeeper until after the funeral. Please -let us have our way. It will be so much easier for -you, and it will let us feel that we have been able to do -something for you.”</p> - -<p>Shannon could not have refused if she had wished to, -but she did not wish to. In the quiet ranch house, surrounded -by these strong, kindly people, she found a restfulness -and a feeling of security that she had not believed -she was ever to experience again. She had these thoughts -when, under the influence of morphine, her nerves were -quieted and her brain clear. After the effects had worn -off, she became restless and irritable. She thought of -Crumb then, and of the bungalow on the Vista del Paso, -with its purple monkeys stenciled over the patio gate. -She wanted to be back where she could be free to do -as she pleased—free to sink again into the most degrading -and abject slavery that human vice has ever -devised.</p> - -<p>On the first night, after she had gone to her rooms, -the Penningtons, gathered in the little family living room, -discussed her, as people are wont to discuss a stranger -beneath their roof.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t she radiant?” demanded Eva. “She’s the most -beautifulest creature I ever saw!”</p> - -<p>“She looks much as her mother must have looked at -the same age,” commented the colonel. “There is a -marked family resemblance.”</p> - -<p>“She <em>is</em> beautiful,” agreed Mrs. Pennington; “but I -venture to say that she is looking her worst right now. -She doesn’t appear at all well, to me. Her complexion -is very sallow, and sometimes there is the strangest expression -in her eyes—almost wild. The nervous shock of -her mother’s death must have been very severe; but -she bears up wonderfully, at that, and she is so sweet -and appreciative!”</p> - -<p>“I sized her up over there in the kitchen to-day,” said -Custer. “She’s the real article. I can always tell by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> -the way people treat a servant whether they are real -people or only counterfeit. She was as sweet and natural -to Hannah as she is to mother.”</p> - -<p>“I noticed that,” said his mother. “It is one of the -hall marks of good breeding; but we could scarcely expect -anything else of Mrs. Burke’s daughter. I know -she must be a fine character.”</p> - -<p>In the room above them Shannon Burke, with trembling -hands and staring eyes, was inserting a slender needle -beneath the skin above her hip. In the movies one -does not disfigure one’s arms or legs.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">The</span> day of the funeral had come and gone. It had -been a very hard one for Shannon. She had determined -that on this day, at least, she would not touch the little -hypodermic syringe. She owed that much respect to the -memory of her mother. And she had fought—God, how -she had fought!—with screaming nerves that would not -be quiet, with trembling muscles, and with a brain that -held but a single thought—morphine, morphine, -morphine!</p> - -<p>She tried to shut the idea from her mind. She tried -to concentrate her thoughts upon the real anguish of her -heart. She tried to keep before her a vision of her -mother; but her hideous, resistless vice crowded all else -from her brain, and the result was that on the way back -from the cemetery she collapsed into screaming, incoherent -hysteria.</p> - -<p>They carried her to her room—Custer Pennington -carried her, his father and mother following. When the -men had left, Mrs. Pennington and Eva undressed her -and comforted her and put her to bed; but she still -screamed and sobbed—frightful, racking sobs, without -tears. She was trying to tell them to go away. How -she hated them! If they would only go away and leave -her! But she could not voice the words she sought to -scream at them, and so they stayed and ministered to her -as best they could. After a while she lost consciousness, -and they thought that she was asleep and left her.</p> - -<p>Perhaps she did sleep, for later, when she opened her -eyes, she lay very quiet, and felt rested and almost normal. -She knew, though, that she was not entirely awake—that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span> -when full wakefulness came the terror would return -unless she quickly had recourse to the little needle.</p> - -<p>In that brief moment of restfulness she thought quickly -and clearly and very fully of what had just happened. -She had never had such an experience before. Perhaps -she had never fully realized the frightful hold the drug -had upon her. She had known that she could not stop—or, -at least, she had said that she knew; but whether she -had any conception of the pitiful state to which enforced -abstinence would reduce her is to be doubted. Now she -knew, and she was terribly frightened.</p> - -<p>“I must cut it down,” she said to herself. “I must -have been hitting it up a little too strong. When I get -home, I’ll let up gradually until I can manage with three -or four shots a day.”</p> - -<p>When she came down to dinner that night, they were -all surprised to see her, for they had thought her still -asleep. Particularly were they surprised to see no indications -of her recent breakdown. How could they know -that she had just taken enough morphine to have killed -any one of them? She seemed normal and composed, -and she tried to infuse a little gayety into her conversation, -for she realized that her grief was not theirs. She -knew that their kind hearts shared something of her sorrow, -but it was selfish to impose her own sadness upon -them.</p> - -<p>She had been thinking very seriously, had Shannon -Burke. The attack of hysteria had jarred her loose, -temporarily at least, from the selfish rut that her habit -and her hateful life with Crumb had worn for her. -She recalled every emotion of the ordeal through which -she had passed, even to the thoughts of hate that she had -held for those two sweet women at the table with her. -How could she have hated them? She hated herself -for the thought.</p> - -<p>She compared herself with them, and a dull flush -mounted to her cheek. She was not fit to remain under -the same roof with them, and here she was sitting at their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> -table, a respected guest! What if they should learn of -the thing she was? The thought terrified her; and yet -she talked on, oftentimes gayly, joining with them in the -laughter that was a part of every meal.</p> - -<p>She really saw them, that night, as they were. It was -the first time that her grief and her selfish vice had permitted -her to study them. It was her first understanding -glimpse of a family life that was as beautiful as her own -life was ugly.</p> - -<p>As she compared herself with the women, she compared -Crumb with these two men. They might have vices—they -were strong men, and few strong men are without -vices, she knew—but she was sure they were the vices of -strong men, which, by comparison with those of Wilson -Crumb, would become virtues. What a pitiful creature -Crumb seemed beside these two, with his insignificant -mentality and his petty egotism!</p> - -<p>Suddenly it came to her, almost as a shock, that she -had to leave this beautiful place and go back to the sordid -life that she shared with Crumb. Her spirit revolted, -but she knew that it must be. She did not belong here—her -vice must ever bar her from such men and women -as these. The memory of them would haunt her always, -making her punishment the more poignant to the day of -her death.</p> - -<p>That evening she and Colonel Pennington discussed -her plans for the future. She had asked him about disposing -of the orchard—how she should proceed, and -what she might ask for it.</p> - -<p>“I should advise you to hold it,” he said. “It is going -to increase in value tremendously in the next few years. -You can easily get some one to work it for you on shares. -If you don’t want to live on it, Custer and I will be glad -to keep an eye on it and see that it is properly cared for; -but why don’t you stay here? You could really make -a very excellent living from it. Besides, Miss Burke, -here in the country you can really <em>live</em>. You city people -don’t know what life is.”</p> - -<p>“There!” said Eva. “Popsy has started. If he had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -his way, we’d all have to move to the city to escape the -maddening crowd. He’d move the maddening crowd -into the country!”</p> - -<p>“It may be that Shannon doesn’t care for the country,” -suggested Mrs. Pennington. “There <em>are</em> such foolish -people,” she added, laughing.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I would love the country!” exclaimed Shannon.</p> - -<p>“Then why don’t you stay?” urged the colonel.</p> - -<p>“I had never thought of it,” she said hesitatingly.</p> - -<p>It was indeed a new idea. Of course it was an absolute -impossibility, but it was a very pleasant thing to -contemplate.</p> - -<p>“Possibly Miss Burke has ties in the city that she -would not care to break,” suggested Custer, noting her -hesitation.</p> - -<p>Ties in the city! Shackles of iron, rather, she thought -bitterly; but, oh, it was such a nice thought! To live -here, to see these people daily, perhaps be one of them, -to be like them—ah, that would be heaven!</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she said, “I have ties in the city. I could not -remain here, I am afraid, much as I should like to. I—I -think I had better sell.”</p> - -<p>“Rubbish!” exclaimed the colonel. “You’ll not sell. -You are going to stay here with us until you are thoroughly -rested, and then you won’t want to sell.”</p> - -<p>“I wish that I might,” she said; <span class="locked">“but——”</span></p> - -<p>“But nothing!” interrupted the colonel. “You are not -well, and I shan’t permit you to leave until those cheeks -are the color of Eva’s.”</p> - -<p>He spoke to her as he might have spoken to one of his -children. She had never known a father, and it was the -first time that any man had talked to her in just that -way. It brought the tears to her eyes—tears of happiness, -for every woman wants to feel that she belongs to -some man—a father, a brother, or a husband—who loves -her well enough to order her about for her own good.</p> - -<p>“I shall have to think it over,” she said. “It means<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span> -so much to me to have you all want me to stay! Please -don’t think that I don’t want to; but—but—there are -so many things to consider, and I want to stay so very, -very much!”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said the colonel. “It’s decided—you stay. -Now run off to bed, for you’re going to ride with us -in the morning, and that means that you’ll have to be -up at half past five.”</p> - -<p>“But I can’t ride,” she said. “I don’t know how, and -I have nothing to wear.”</p> - -<p>“Eva’ll fit you out, and as for not knowing how to -ride, you can’t learn any younger. Why, I’ve taught half -the children in the foothills to ride a horse, and a lot of -the grown-ups. What I can’t teach you Cus and Eva -can. You’re going to start in to-morrow, my little girl, -and learn how to live. Nobody who has simply survived -the counterfeit life of the city knows anything about living. -You wait—we’ll show you!”</p> - -<p>She smiled up into his face.</p> - -<p>“I suppose I shall have to mind you,” she said. “I -imagine every one does.”</p> - -<p>Seated in an easy chair in her bedroom, she stared -at the opposite wall. The craving that she was seldom -without was growing in intensity, for she had been without -morphine since before dinner. She got up, unlocked -her bag, and took out the little black case. She opened it, -and counted the powders remaining. She had used half -her supply—she could stay but three or four days longer -at the outside; and the colonel wanted her to stay until -her cheeks were like Eva’s!</p> - -<p>She rose and looked in the mirror. How sallow she -was! Something—she did not know what—had kept -her from using rouge here. During the first days of -her grief she had not even thought of it, and then, after -that evening at dinner, she knew that she could not use -it here. It was a make-believe, a sham, which didn’t -harmonize with these people or the life they led—a -clean, real life, in which any form of insincerity had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> -no place. She knew that they were broad people, both -cultured and traveled, and so she could not understand -why it was that she felt that the harmless vanity of rouge -might be distasteful to them. Indeed, she guessed that it -would not. It was something fine in herself, long suppressed, -seeking expression.</p> - -<p>It was this same thing, perhaps, that had caused her -to refuse a cigarette that Custer had offered her after -dinner. The act indicated that they were accustomed -to having women smoke there, as women nearly everywhere -smoke to-day; but she had refused, and she was -glad she had, for she noticed that neither Mrs. Pennington -nor Eva smoked. Such women didn’t have to smoke -to be attractive to men. She had smoked in her room -several times, for that habit, too, had a strong hold on -her; but she had worked assiduously to remove the telltale -stains from her fingers.</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” she mused, looking at the black case, “if -I could get through the night without you! It would -give me a few more hours here if I could—a few more -hours of life before I go back to <em>that</em>!”</p> - -<p>Until midnight she fought her battle—a losing battle—tossing -and turning in her bed; but she did her best -before she gave up in defeat—no, not quite defeat; let -us call it compromise, for the dose she took was only half -as much as she ordinarily allowed herself. The three-hour -fight and the half dose meant a partial victory, for -it gained for her, she estimated, an additional six hours.</p> - -<p>At a quarter before six she was awakened by a knock -on her door. It was already light, and she awoke with -mingled surprise that she had slept so well and vague -forebodings of the next hour or two, for she was unaccustomed -to horses and a little afraid of them.</p> - -<p>“Who is it?” she asked, as the knock was repeated.</p> - -<p>“Eva. I’ve brought your riding things.”</p> - -<p>Shannon rose and opened the door. She was going -to take the things from the girl, but the latter bounced -into the room, fresh and laughing.</p> - -<p>“Come on!” she cried. “I’ll help you. Just pile your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span> -hair up anyhow—it doesn’t matter—this hat’ll cover it. -I think these breeches will fit you—we are just about -the same size; but I don’t know about the boots—they -may be a little large. I didn’t bring any spurs—papa -won’t let any one wear spurs until they ride fairly well. -You’ll have to win your spurs, you see! It’s a beautiful -morning—just spiffy! Run in and wash up a bit. I’ll -arrange everything, and you’ll be in ’em in a jiffy.”</p> - -<p>She seized Shannon around the waist and danced off -toward the bathroom.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be long,” she admonished, as she returned to -the dressing room, from where she laid down a barrage -of conversation before the bathroom.</p> - -<p>Shannon washed quickly. She was excited at the -prospect of the ride. That and the laughing, talking girl -in the adjoining room gave her no time to think. Her -mind was fully occupied and her nerves were stimulated. -For the moment she forgot about morphine, and -then it was too late, for Eva had her by the hand and she -was being led, almost at a run, down the stairs, through -the patio, and out over the edge of the hill down toward -the stable.</p> - -<p>At first the full-foliaged umbrella trees through which -the walk wound concealed the stable and corrals at the -foot of the hill, but presently they broke upon her view, -and she saw the horses saddled and waiting, and the -other members of the family. The colonel and Mrs. -Pennington were already mounted. Custer and a stableman -held two horses, while the fifth was tied to a ring -in the stable wall. It was a pretty picture—the pawing -horses, with arched necks, eager to be away; the happy, -laughing people in their picturesque and unconventional -riding clothes; the new day upon the nearer hills; the -haze upon the farther mountains.</p> - -<p>“Fine!” cried the colonel, as he saw her coming. -“Really never thought you’d do it! I’ll wager this is -the earliest you have been up in many a day. ‘Barbarous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> -hour’—that’s what you’re saying. Why, when my cousin -was on here from New York, he was really shocked—said -it wasn’t decent. Come along—we’re late this morning. -You’ll ride Baldy—Custer’ll help you up.”</p> - -<p>She stepped to the mounting block as the young man -led the dancing Baldy close beside it.</p> - -<p>“Ever ridden much?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Never in my life.”</p> - -<p>“Take the reins in your left hand—so. Like this—left-hand -rein coming in under your little finger, the other -between your first and second fingers, and the bight out -between your first finger and thumb— there, that’s it. -Face your horse, put your left hand on the horn, and -your right hand on the cantle—this is the cantle back -here. That’s the ticket. Now put your left foot in the -stirrup and stand erect—no, don’t lean forward over -the saddle—good! swing your right leg, knee bent, over -the cantle, at the same time lifting your right hand. When -you come down, ease yourself into the saddle by closing -on the horse with your knees—that takes the jar off -both of you. Ride with a light rein. If you want him -to slow down or stop, pull him in—don’t jerk.”</p> - -<p>He was holding Baldy close to the bit as he helped her -and explained. He saw that her right foot found the -stirrup, and that she had the reins properly gathered, and -then he released the animal. Immediately Baldy began -to curvet, raising both fore feet simultaneously, and, as -they were coming down, raising his hind feet together, so -that all four were off the ground at once.</p> - -<p>Shannon was terrified. Why had they put her on -a bucking horse? They knew she couldn’t ride. It was -cruel!</p> - -<p>But she sat there with tight-pressed lips and uttered -no sound. She recalled every word that Custer had said -to her, and she did not jerk, though some almost irresistible -power urged her to. She just pulled, and as -she pulled she glanced about to see if they were rushing -to her rescue. Great was her surprise when she discovered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span> -that no one was paying much attention to her or -to the mad actions of her terrifying mount.</p> - -<p>Suddenly it dawned upon her that she had neither -fallen off nor come near falling off. She had not even -lost a stirrup. As a matter of fact, the motion was not -even uncomfortable. It was enjoyable, and she was in -about as much danger of being thrown as she would have -been from a rocking chair as violently self-agitated. She -laughed then, and in the instant all fear left her.</p> - -<p>She saw Eva mount from the ground, and noted that -the stableman was not even permitted to hold her restive -horse, much less to assist her in any other way. Custer -swung to the saddle with the ease of long habitude. The -colonel reined to her side.</p> - -<p>“We’ll let them go ahead,” he said, “and I’ll give you -your first lesson. Then I’ll turn you over to Custer—he -and Eva can put on the finishing touches.”</p> - -<p>“He wants to see that you’re started right,” called -the younger man, laughing.</p> - -<p>“Popsy just wants to add another feather to his cap,” -said Eva. “Some day he’ll ‘point with pride’ and say, -‘Look at her ride! I gave her her first lesson.’”</p> - -<p>“Here come Mrs. Evans and Guy!”</p> - -<p>As Mrs. Pennington spoke, they saw two horses rounding -the foot of the hill at a brisk canter, their riders -waving a cheery long-distance greeting.</p> - -<p>That first morning ride with the Penningtons and -their friends was an event in the life of Shannon Burke -that assumed the proportions of adventure. The novelty, -the thrill, the excitement, filled her every moment. The -dancing horse beneath her seemed to impart to her a full -measure of its buoyant life. The gay laughter of her companions, -the easy fellowship of young and old, the generous -sympathy that made her one of them, gave her but -another glimpse of the possibilities for happiness that -requires no artificial stimulus.</p> - -<p>She loved the hills. She loved the little trail winding -through the leafy tunnel of a cool barranco. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> -loved the thrill of the shelving hillside where the trail -clung precariously in its ascent toward some low summit. -She tingled with the new life and a new joy as they -broke into a gallop along a grassy ridge.</p> - -<p>Custer, in the lead, reined in, raising his hand in -signal for them all to stop.</p> - -<p>“Look, Miss Burke,” he said, pointing toward a near -hillside. “There’s a coyote. Thought maybe you’d never -seen one on his native heath.”</p> - -<p>“Shoot it! Shoot it!” cried Eva. “You poor boob, -why don’t you shoot it?”</p> - -<p>“Baldy’s gun shy,” he explained.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Eva. “Yes, of course—I forgot.”</p> - -<p>“One of the things you do best,” returned Custer -loftily.</p> - -<p>“I was just going to say that you were not a boob at -all, but now I won’t!”</p> - -<p>Shannon watched the gray, wolfish animal turn and -trot off dejectedly until it disappeared among the brush; -but she was not thinking of the coyote. She was considering -the thoughtfulness of a man who could remember -to forego a fair shot at a wild animal because one of the -horses in his party was gun shy, and was ridden by a -woman unaccustomed to riding. She wondered if this -was an index to young Pennington’s character—so different -from the men she had known. It bespoke a general -attitude toward women with which she was unfamiliar—a -protective instinct that was chiefly noticeable in the -average city man by its absence.</p> - -<p>Interspersed with snatches of conversation and intervening -silences were occasional admonitions directed at -her by the colonel, instructing her to keep her feet parallel -to the horse’s sides, not to lean forward, to keep her -elbows down and her left forearm horizontal.</p> - -<p>“I never knew there was so much to riding!” she exclaimed, -laughingly. “I thought you just got on a horse -and rode, and that was all there was to it.”</p> - -<p>“That <em>is</em> all there is to it to most of the people you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -see riding rented horses around Los Angeles,” Colonel -Pennington told her. “It is all there can ever be to the -great majority of people anywhere. Horsemanship is -inherent in some; by others it can never be acquired. It -is an art.”</p> - -<p>“Like dancing,” suggested Eva.</p> - -<p>“And thinking,” said Custer. “Lots of people can -go through the motions of riding, or dancing, or thinking, -without ever achieving any one of them.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t even go through the motions of riding,” said -Shannon ruefully.</p> - -<p>“All you need is practice,” said the colonel. “I can -tell a born rider in half an hour, even if he’s never been -on a horse before in his life. You’re one.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid you’re making fun of me. The saddle -keeps coming up and hitting me, and I never see any of -you move from yours.”</p> - -<p>Guy Evans was riding close to her.</p> - -<p>“No, he’s not making fun of you,” he whispered, leaning -closer to Shannon. “The colonel has paid you one -of the greatest compliments in his power to bestow. He -always judges people first by their morals and then by -their horsemanship; but if they are good horsemen, he -can make generous allowance for minor lapses in their -morals.”</p> - -<p>They both laughed.</p> - -<p>“He’s a dear, isn’t he?” said the girl.</p> - -<p>“He and Custer are the finest men I ever knew,” replied -the boy eagerly.</p> - -<p>That ride ended in a rushing gallop along a quarter -mile of straight road leading to the stables, where they -dismounted, flushed, breathless, and laughing. As they -walked up the winding concrete walk toward the house, -Shannon Burke was tired, lame, and happy. She had -adventured into a new world and found it good.</p> - -<p>“Come into my room and wash,” said Eva, as they -entered the patio. “We’re late for breakfast now, and -we all like to sit down together.”</p> - -<p>For just an instant, and for the first time that morning,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> -Shannon thought of the hypodermic needle in its black -case upstairs. She hesitated, and then resolutely turned -into Eva’s room.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">During</span> the hour following breakfast that morning, -while Shannon was alone in her rooms, the craving returned. -The thought of it turned her sick when she felt -it coming. She had been occupying herself making her -bed and tidying the room, as she had done each morning -since her arrival; but when that was done, her thoughts -reverted by habit to the desire that had so fatally mastered -her.</p> - -<p>While she was riding, she had had no opportunity to -think of anything but the thrill of the new adventure. At -breakfast she had been very hungry, for the first time -in many months; and this new appetite for food, and the -gay conversation of the breakfast table, had given her -nerves no chance to assert their craving. Now that she -was alone and unoccupied, the terrible thing clutched at -her again.</p> - -<p>Once again she fought the fight that she had fought -so many times of late—the fight that she knew she was -ordained to lose before she started fighting. She longed -to win it so earnestly that her defeat was the more -pitiable. She was eager to prolong this new-found happiness -to the uttermost limit. Though she knew that it -must end when her supply of morphine was gone, she -was determined to gain a few hours each day, in order -that she might add at least another happy day to her -life. Again she took but half her ordinary allowance; -but with what anguished humiliation she performed the -hated and repulsive act. Always had she loathed the -habit, but never had it seemed nearly so disgusting as -when performed amid these cleanly and beautiful surroundings, -under the same roof with such people as the -Penningtons.</p> - -<p>There crept into her mind a thought that had found<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -its way there more than once before during the past two -years—the thought of self-destruction. She put it away -from her; but in the depth of her soul she knew that never -before had it taken so strong a hold upon her. Her -mother, her only tie, was gone, and no one would care. -She had looked into heaven and found that it was not -for her. She had no future except to return to the -hideous existence of the Hollywood bungalow and her -lonely boarding house, and to the hated Crumb.</p> - -<p>It was then that Eva Pennington called her.</p> - -<p>“I am going to walk up to the Berkshires,” she said. -“Come along with me!”</p> - -<p>“The Berkshires!” exclaimed Shannon. “I thought -they were in New England.”</p> - -<p>She was descending the stairs toward Eva, who stood -at the foot, holding open the door that led into the patio. -She welcomed the interruption that had broken in upon -her morbid thoughts. The sight of the winsome figure -smiling up at her dispelled them as the light of the sun -sweeps away miasmatic vapors.</p> - -<p>“In New England?” repeated Eva. Her brows puckered, -and then suddenly she broke into a merry laugh. -“I meant pigs, not hills!”</p> - -<p>Shannon laughed, too. How many times she had -laughed that day—and it was yet far from noon. Close -as was the memory of her mother’s death, she could -laugh here with no consciousness of irreverence—rather, -perhaps, with the conviction that she was best serving -the ideals that had been dear to that mother by giving -and accepting happiness when opportunity offered it.</p> - -<p>“I’m only sorry it’s not the hills,” she said; “for that -would mean walking, walking, walking—doing something -in the open, away from people who live in cities and who -can find no pleasures outside four walls.”</p> - -<p>Shannon’s manner was tense, her voice had suddenly -become serious. The younger girl looked up at her with -an expression of mild surprise.</p> - -<p>“My gracious!” cried Eva. “You’re getting almost<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> -as bad as popsy, and you’ve been here only half a week; -but how radiant, if you really love it!”</p> - -<p>“I do love it, dear, though I didn’t mean to be quite -so tragic; but the thought that I shall have to go away -and can never enjoy it again <em>is</em> tragic.”</p> - -<p>“I hope you won’t have to go,” said Eva simply, slipping -an arm about the other’s waist. “We all hope that -you won’t have to.”</p> - -<p>They walked down the hill, past the saddle horse barn, -and along the graveled road that led to the upper end of -the ranch. The summer sun beat hotly upon them, making -each old sycamore and oak and walnut a delightful oasis -of refreshing shade. In a field at their left two mowers -were clicking merrily through lush alfalfa. At their right, -beyond the pasture fence, gentle Guernseys lay in the -shade of a wide-spreading sycamore, a part of the pastoral -allegory of content that was the Rancho del Ganado; -and over all were the blue California sky and the glorious -sun.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it wonderful?” breathed Shannon, half to herself. -“It makes one feel that there cannot be a care -or sorrow in all the world!”</p> - -<p>They soon reached the pens and houses where sleek, -black Berkshires dozed in every shaded spot. Then they -wandered farther up the cañon, into the pasture where -the great brood sows sprawled beneath the sycamores, -or wallowed in a concrete pool shaded by overhanging -boughs. Eva stooped now and then to stroke a long, -deep side.</p> - -<p>“How clean they are!” exclaimed Shannon. “I thought -pigs were dirty.”</p> - -<p>“They are when they are kept in dirty places—the -same as people.”</p> - -<p>“They don’t smell badly; even the pens didn’t smell -of pig. All I noticed was a heavy, sweet odor. What -was it—something they feed them?”</p> - -<p>Eva laughed.</p> - -<p>“It was the pigs themselves. The more you know<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span> -pigs, the better you love ’em. They’re radiant creatures!”</p> - -<p>“You dear! You love everything, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Pretty nearly everything, except prunes and washing -dishes.”</p> - -<p>They swung up then through the orange grove, and -along the upper road back toward the house. It was -noon and lunch time when they arrived. Shannon was -hot and tired and dusty and delighted as she opened the -door at the foot of the stairs that led up to her rooms -above.</p> - -<p>There she paused. The old, gripping desire had seized -her. She had not once felt it since she had passed -through that door more than two hours before. For a -moment she hesitated, and then, fearfully, she turned -toward Eva.</p> - -<p>“May I clean up in your room?” she asked.</p> - -<p>There was a strange note of appeal in Shannon’s -voice that the other girl did not understand.</p> - -<p>“Why, certainly,” she said; “but is there anything the -matter? You are not ill?”</p> - -<p>“Just a little tired.”</p> - -<p>“There! I should never have walked you so far. I’m -so sorry!”</p> - -<p>“I want to be tired. I want to do it again this afternoon—all -afternoon. I don’t want to stop until I am -ready to drop!” Then, seeing the surprise in Eva’s expression, -she added: “You see, I shall be here such a -short time that I want to crowd every single moment full -of pleasant memories.”</p> - -<p>Shannon thought that she had never eaten so much -before as she had that morning at breakfast; but at -luncheon she more than duplicated her past performance. -There was cold chicken—delicious Rhode Island Reds -raised on the ranch; there was a salad of home-grown -tomatoes—firm, deep red beauties—and lettuce from the -garden; Hannah’s bread, with butter fresh from the -churn, and tall, cool pitchers filled with rich Guernsey<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -milk; and then a piece of Hannah’s famous apple pie, -with cream so thick that it would scarce pour.</p> - -<p>“My!” Shannon exclaimed at last. “I have seen the -pigs and I have become one.”</p> - -<p>“And I see something, dear,” said Mrs. Pennington, -smiling.</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“Some color in your cheeks.”</p> - -<p>“Not <em>really</em>?” she cried, delighted.</p> - -<p>“Yes, really.”</p> - -<p>“And it’s mighty becoming,” offered the colonel. -“Nothing like a brown skin and rosy cheeks for beauty. -That’s the way God meant girls to be, or He wouldn’t -have given ’em delicate skins and hung the sun up there -to beautify ’em. Here He’s gone to a lot of trouble to -fit up the whole world as a beauty parlor, and what do -women do? They go and find some stuffy little shop -poked away where the sun never reaches it, and pay some -other woman, who knows nothing about art, to paint a -mean imitation of a complexion on their poor skins. They -wouldn’t think of hanging a chromo in their living rooms; -but they wear one on their faces, when the greatest Artist -of them all is ready and willing to paint a masterpiece -there for nothing!”</p> - -<p>“What a dapper little thought!” exclaimed Eva. -“Popsy should have been a poet.”</p> - -<p>“Or an ad writer for a cosmetic manufacturer,” suggested -Custer. “Oh, by the way, not changing the subject -or anything, but did you hear about Slick Allen?”</p> - -<p>No, they had not. Shannon pricked up her ears, metaphorically. -What did these people know of Slick Allen?</p> - -<p>“He’s just been sent up in L. A. for having narcotics -in his possession. Got a year in the county jail.”</p> - -<p>“I guess he was a bad one,” commented the colonel; -“but he never struck me as being a drug addict.”</p> - -<p>“Nor me; but I guess you can’t always tell them,” said -Custer.</p> - -<p>“It must be a terrible habit,” said Mrs. Pennington.</p> - -<p>“It’s about as low as any one can sink,” said Custer.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span></p> - -<p>“I hear that there’s been a great increase in it since -prohibition,” remarked the colonel. “Personally, I’d have -more respect for a whisky drunkard than for a drug addict; -or perhaps I should better say that I’d feel less disrespect. -A police official told me not long ago, at a dinner -in town, that if drug-taking continues to increase as -it has recently, it will constitute a national menace by -comparison with which the whisky evil will seem paltry.”</p> - -<p>Shannon Burke was glad when they rose from the -table, putting an end to the conversation. She had -plumbed the uttermost depths of humiliation. She had -felt herself go hot and cold in shame and fear. At -first her one thought had been to get away—to find some -excuse for leaving the Penningtons at once. If they -knew the truth, what would they think of her? Not because -of her habit alone, but because she had imposed -upon their hospitality in the guise of decency, knowing -that she was unclean, and practicing her horrid vice beneath -their very roof; associating with their daughter -and bringing them all in contact with her moral leprosy.</p> - -<p>She was hastening to her room to pack. She knew -there was an evening train for the city, and while she -packed she could be framing some plausible excuse for -leaving thus abruptly.</p> - -<p>Custer Pennington called to her.</p> - -<p>“Miss Burke!”</p> - -<p>She turned, her hand upon the knob of the door to the -upstairs suite.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to ride over the back ranch this afternoon. -Eva showed you the Berkshires this morning; now I -want to show you the Herefords. I told the stableman -to saddle Baldy for you. Will half an hour be too soon?”</p> - -<p>He was standing in the north arcade of the patio, a -few yards from her, waiting for her reply. How fine -and straight and clean he was! If fate had been less -unkind, she might have been worthy of the friendship -of such a man as he.</p> - -<p>Worthy? Was she unworthy, then? She had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span> -just as fine and clean as Custer Pennington until a beast -had tricked her into shame. She had not knowingly embraced -a vice. It had already claimed her before she -knew it for what it was. Must she then forego all hope -of happiness because of a wrong of which she herself -was innocent?</p> - -<p>She wanted to go with Custer. Another day would -make no difference, for the Penningtons would never -know. How could they? By what chance might they -ever connect Shannon Burke with Gaza de Lure? She -well knew that her screen days were over, and there was -no slightest likelihood that any of these people would -be introduced into the bungalow on the Vista del Paso. -Who could begrudge her just this little afternoon of happiness -before she went back to Crumb?</p> - -<p>“Don’t tell me you don’t want to come,” cried Custer. -“I won’t take no for an answer!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I do want to come—ever so much! -I’ll be down in just a minute. Why wait half an hour?”</p> - -<p>She was in her room no more than five minutes, and -during that time she sought bravely to efface all thought -of the little black case; but with diabolic pertinacity it -constantly obtruded itself, and with it came the gnawing -hunger of nerves starving for a narcotic.</p> - -<p>“I won’t!” she cried, stamping her foot. “I won’t! I -won’t!”</p> - -<p>If only she could get away from the room before she -succumbed to the mounting temptation, she was sure -that she could fight it off for the rest of the afternoon. -She had gained that much, at least; but she must keep -occupied, constantly occupied, where she could not have -access to it or see the black case in which she kept the -morphine.</p> - -<p>She triumphed by running away from it. She almost -hurled herself down the stairs and into the patio. Custer -Pennington was not there. She must find him before -the craving dragged her back to the rooms above. Already<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> -she could feel her will weakening. It was the old, -old story that she knew so well.</p> - -<p>“What’s the use?” the voice of the tempter asked. “Just -a little one! It will make you feel so much better. What’s -the use?”</p> - -<p>She turned toward the door again; she had her hand -upon the knob, and then she swung back and called him.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Pennington!”</p> - -<p>If he did not hear, she knew that she would go up -into her rooms defeated.</p> - -<p>“Coming!” he answered from beyond the arched entrance -of the patio, and then he stepped into view.</p> - -<p>She almost ran to him.</p> - -<p>“Was I very long?” she asked. “Did I keep you -waiting?”</p> - -<p>“Why, you’ve scarcely been gone any time at all,” he -replied.</p> - -<p>“Let’s hurry,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t want to -miss any of it!”</p> - -<p>He wondered why she should be so much excited at -the prospect of a ride into the hills, but it pleased him -that she was, and it flattered him a little, too. He began -to be a little enthusiastic over the trip, which he had -planned only as part of the generous policy of the family -to keep Shannon occupied, so that she might not brood too -sorrowfully over her loss.</p> - -<p>And Shannon was pleased because of her victory. She -was too honest at heart to attempt to deceive herself into -thinking that it was any great triumph; but even to have -been strong enough to have run away from the enemy -was something. She did not hope that it augured any -permanent victory for the future, for she did not believe -that such a thing was possible. She knew that scarce -three in a hundred slaves of morphine definitely cast off -their bonds this side of the grave, and she had gone too -far to be one of the three. If she could keep going forever -as she had that day, she might do it; but that, of -course, was impossible. There must be hours when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> -she would be alone with nothing to do but think, think, -think, and what would she think about? Always the -same things—the little white powder and the peace and -rest that it would give her.</p> - -<p>Custer watched her as she mounted, holding Baldy -beside the block for her, and again he was pleased to -note that she did not neglect a single detail of the instructions -he had given her.</p> - -<p>“Some girl, this!” the young man soliloquized mentally.</p> - -<p>He knew she must be at least a little lame and sore -after the morning ride, but though he watched her face -he saw no sign of it registered there.</p> - -<p>“Game!”</p> - -<p>He was going to like her. Stirrup to stirrup, they rode -slowly up the lane toward the cañon road. Her form -was perfect. She seemed to recall everything his father -had told her, and she sat easily, with no stiffness.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you want to ride faster?” she asked. “You -needn’t poke along on my account.”</p> - -<p>“It’s too hot,” he replied; but the real reason was that -he knew she was probably suffering, even at a walk.</p> - -<p>For a long time they rode in silence, the girl taking -in every beauty of meadow, ravine, and hill, that she -might store them all away for the days when they would -be only memories. The sun beat down upon them -fiercely, for it was an early August day, and there was no -relieving breeze; but she enjoyed it. It was all so different -from any day in her past, and so much happier -than anything in the last two years, or anything she could -expect in the future.</p> - -<p>Custer Pennington, never a talkative man, was always -glad of a companionship that could endure long silences. -Grace had been like that with him. They could be together -for hours with scarce a dozen words exchanged; -and yet both could talk well when they had anything to -say. It was the knowledge that conversation was not -essential to perfect understanding and comradeship that -had rendered their intimacy delightful.</p> - -<p>The riders had entered the hills and were winding up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -Jackknife Cañon before either spoke.</p> - -<p>“If you tire,” he said, “or if it gets too hot, we’ll turn -back. Please don’t hesitate to tell me.”</p> - -<p>“It’s heavenly!” she said.</p> - -<p>“Possibly a few degrees too hot for heaven,” he suggested; -“but it’s always cool under the live oaks. Any -time you want to rest we’ll stop for a bit.”</p> - -<p>“Which are the live oaks?” she asked.</p> - -<p>He pointed to one.</p> - -<p>“Why are they called <em>live</em> oaks?”</p> - -<p>“They’re evergreen—I suppose that’s the reason. -Here’s a big old fellow—shall we stop?”</p> - -<p>“And get off?”</p> - -<p>“If you wish.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think I could get on again?”</p> - -<p>Pennington laughed.</p> - -<p>“I’ll get you up all right. Still feel a little lame?”</p> - -<p>“Who said I was lame?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“I know you must be, but you’re mighty game!”</p> - -<p>“I was when I started, but not any more. I seem -to have limbered up. Let’s try it. I want to see if -I can get on from the ground, as Eva does. What are -you smiling at? That’s the second time in the last few -seconds.”</p> - -<p>“Was I smiling? I didn’t know it. I didn’t mean to.”</p> - -<p>“What did I do?”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t do anything—it was something you said. -You won’t mind, will you, as long as you are learning to -ride a horse, if I teach you the correct terminology at -the same time?”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course not! What did I say? Was it very -awful?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no; but it always amuses me when I hear it. -It’s about getting on and off. You get on or off a street -car, but you mount or dismount if you’re riding a horse.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t!” she exclaimed, laughing. “Falling on -and off would suit my method better.”</p> - -<p>“No, you mount very nicely. Now watch, and I’ll<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> -show you how to dismount. Put your left hand on the -horn; throw your right leg over the cantle, immediately -grasping the cantle with the right hand; stand erect in -the left stirrup, legs straight and heels together—you see, -I’m facing right across the horse. Now support the -weight of the body with your arms, like this; remove -the left foot from the stirrup and drop to the ground, -alighting evenly on both feet. That’s the correct form -and a good plan to follow while you’re learning to ride. -Afterward one gets to swing off almost any old way.”</p> - -<p>“I thought one always <em>dismounted</em>,” she suggested, -“from a horse!”</p> - -<p>Her eyes twinkled. He laughed.</p> - -<p>“I’ll have to be careful, won’t I? You scored that -time!”</p> - -<p>“Now watch me,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Splendid!” he exclaimed, as she dropped lightly to -the ground.</p> - -<p>They led their horses beneath the spreading tree and -sat down with their backs to the huge bole.</p> - -<p>“How cool it is here!” remarked the girl. “I can -feel a breeze, though I hadn’t noticed one before.”</p> - -<p>“There always is a breeze beneath the oaks. I think -they make their own. I read somewhere that an oak -evaporates about one hundred and eighty gallons of water -every day. That ought to make a considerable change -of temperature beneath the tree on a hot day like this, -and in that way it must start a circulation of air about -it.”</p> - -<p>“How interesting! How much there is to know in -the world, and how little of it most of us know! A -tree is a tree, a flower is a flower, and the hills are the -hills—that much knowledge of them satisfies nearly all -of us. The how and the why of them we never consider; -but I should like to know more. We should know all -about things that are so beautiful—don’t you think so?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said. “In ranching we do learn a lot that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span> -city people don’t need to know—about how things grow, -and what some plants take out of the soil, and what -others put into it. It’s part of our business to know -these things, not only that we may judge the food value -of certain crops, but also to keep our soil in condition to -grow good crops every year.”</p> - -<p>He told her how the tree beneath which they sat drew -water and various salts from the soil, and how the leaves -extracted carbon dioxide from the air, taking it in through -myriads of minute mouths on the under sides of the -leaves, and how the leaves manufactured starch and the -sap carried it to every growing part of the tree, from -deepest root to the tip of loftiest twig.</p> - -<p>The girl listened, absorbed. As she listened she -watched the man’s face, earnest and intelligent, and mentally -she could not but compare him and his conversation -with the men she had known in the city, and their conversation. -They had talked to her as if she was a mental -cipher, incapable of understanding or appreciating anything -worth while—small talk, that subverter of the -ancient art of conversation. In a brief half hour Custer -Pennington had taught her things that would help to -make the world a little more interesting and a little more -beautiful; for she could never look upon a tree again -as just a tree—it would be for her a living, breathing, -almost a sentient creature.</p> - -<p>She tried to recall what she had learned from two -years’ association with Wilson Crumb, and the only thing -she could think of was that Crumb had taught her to -snuff cocaine.</p> - -<p>After a while they started on again, and the girl surprised -the man by mounting easily from the ground. She -was very much pleased with her achievement, laughing -happily at his word of approval.</p> - -<p>They rode on until they found the Herefords. They -counted them as they searched through the large pasture -that ran back into the hills; and when the full number had -been accounted for, they turned toward home. As he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> -had told her about the trees, Custer told her also about -the beautiful white-faced cattle, of their origin in the -English county whose name they bear, and of their unequaled -value as beef animals. He pointed out various -prize winners as they passed them.</p> - -<p>“There you are, smiling again,” she said accusingly, as -they followed the trail homeward. “What have I done -now?”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t done anything but be very patient all -afternoon. I was smiling at the idea of how thrilling -the afternoon must have been for a city girl, accustomed, -I suppose, to a constant round of pleasure and excitement!”</p> - -<p>“I have never known a happier afternoon,” she said.</p> - -<p>“I wonder if you really mean that?”</p> - -<p>“Honestly!”</p> - -<p>“I am glad,” he said; “for sometimes I get terribly -tired of it here, and I think it always does me good to -have an outsider enthuse a little. It brings me a realization -of the things we have here that city people can’t -have, and makes me a little more contented.”</p> - -<p>“You couldn’t be discontented! Why, there are just -thousands and thousands of people in the city who would -give everything to change places with you! We don’t -all live in the city because we want to. You are fortunate -that you don’t have to.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think so?”</p> - -<p>“I know it.”</p> - -<p>“But it seems such a narrow life here! I ought to -be doing a man’s work among men, where it will count.”</p> - -<p>“You <em>are</em> doing a man’s work here and living a man’s -life, and what you do here <em>does</em> count. Suppose you were -making stoves, or selling automobiles or bonds, in the -city. Would any such work count for more than all this—the -wonderful swine and cattle and horses that you -are raising? Your father has built a great business, and -you are helping him to make it greater. Could you do -anything in the city of which you could be half so proud?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -No, but in the city you might find a thousand things to -do of which you might be terribly ashamed. If I were -a man, I’d like your chance!”</p> - -<p>“You’re not consistent. You have the same chance, -but you tell us that you are going back to the city. You -have your grove here, and a home and a good living, -and yet you want to return to the city you inveigh -against.”</p> - -<p>“I do <em>not</em> want to,” she declared.</p> - -<p>“I hope you don’t, then,” Custer said simply.</p> - -<p>They reached the house in time for a swim before dinner; -but after dinner, when they started for the ballroom -to dance, Shannon threw up her hands in surrender.</p> - -<p>“I give up!” she cried laughingly. “I tried to be -game to the finish, and I want ever so much to come and -dance; but I don’t believe I could even walk as far as the -ballroom, much less dance after I got there. Why, I -doubt whether I’ll be able to get upstairs without -crawling!”</p> - -<p>“You poor child!” exclaimed Mrs. Pennington. -“We’ve nearly killed you, I know. We are all so used to -the long rides and walking and swimming and dancing -that we don’t realize how they tire unaccustomed muscles. -You go right to bed, my dear, and don’t think of getting -up for breakfast.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I want to get up and ride, if I may, and if -Eva will wake me.”</p> - -<p>“She’s got the real stuff in her,” commented the colonel, -after Shannon had bid them good night and gone to her -rooms.</p> - -<p>“I’ll say she has,” agreed Custer. “She’s a peach of a -girl!”</p> - -<p>“She’s simply divine,” added Eva.</p> - -<p>In her room, Shannon could barely get into bed before -she was asleep.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">It</span> was four o’clock the following morning before she -awoke. The craving awoke with her. It seized her -mercilessly; yet even as she gave in to it, she had the -satisfaction of knowing that she had gone without the -little white powders longer this time than since she had -first started to use them. She took but a third of her -normal dose.</p> - -<p>When Eva knocked at half past five, Shannon rose -and dressed in frantic haste, that she might escape a return -of the desire. She did not escape it entirely, but -she was able to resist it until she was dressed and out of -reach of the little black case.</p> - -<p>That day she went with Custer and Eva and Guy to -the country club, returning only in time for a swim before -dinner; and again she fought off the craving while -she was dressing for dinner. After dinner they danced, -and once more she was so physically tired when she -reached her rooms that she could think of nothing but -sleep. The day of golf had kept her fully occupied in -the hot sun, and in such good company her mind had -been pleasantly occupied, too, so that she had not been -troubled by her old enemy.</p> - -<p>Again it was early morning before she was forced to -fight the implacable foe. She fought valiantly this time, -but she lost.</p> - -<p>And so it went, day after day, as she dragged out her -dwindling supply and prolonged the happy hours of her -all too brief respite from the degradation of the life -to which she knew she must soon return. Each day it -was harder to think of going back—of leaving these -people, whom she had come to love as she loved their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -lives and their surroundings, and taking her place again -in the stifling and degraded atmosphere of the Vista del -Paso bungalow. They were so good to her, and had so -wholly taken her into their family life, that she felt as -one of them. They shared everything with her. There -was not a day that she did not ride with Custer out -among the brown hills. She knew that she was going to -miss these rides—that she was going to miss the man, -too. He had treated her as a man would like other men to -treat his sister, with a respect and deference that she had -never met with in the City of Angels.</p> - -<p>Three weeks had passed. She had drawn out the -week’s supply that Crumb had doled out to her to this -length, and there was even enough for another week, to -such small quantities had she reduced the doses, and to -such lengths had she increased the intervals between -them. She had gone two whole days without it; yet she -did not once think that she could give it up entirely, for -when the craving came in full force she was still powerless -to withstand it, and she knew that she would always -be so.</p> - -<p>Without realizing it, she was building up a reserve -force of health that was to be her strongest ally in the -battle to come. The sallowness had left her; her cheeks -were tanned and ruddy; her eyes sparkled with the old -fire, and were no longer wild and staring. She could -ride and walk and swim and dance with the best of them. -She found interest in the work of her orchard, where she -went almost daily to talk with the caretaker, to question -him and to learn all that she could of citrus culture. She -even learned to drive the light tractor and steer it in and -out about the trees without barking them.</p> - -<p>Every day that she was there she went to the sunny -bedroom in the bungalow—the bedroom that had been -her mother’s—and knelt beside the bed and poured forth -her heart in blind faith that her mother heard. She did -not grieve, for she held that sublime faith in the hereafter -which many profess and few possess—the faith which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -taught her that her mother was happier than she had ever -been before. Her sorrow had been in her own loss, -and this she fought down as selfishness. She realized that -her greatest anguish lay in vain regrets; and such -thoughts she sought to stifle, knowing their uselessness.</p> - -<p>Sometimes she prayed there—prayed for strength to -cast off the bonds of her servitude. Ineffectual prayers -she knew them to be, for the only power that could free -her had lain within herself, and that power the drug had -undermined and permanently weakened. Her will had -degenerated to impotent wishes.</p> - -<p>And now the time had come when she must definitely -set a date for her departure. She had determined to -retain the orchard, not alone because she had seen that -it would prove profitable, but because it would always -constitute a link between her and the people whom she -had come to love. No matter what the future held, she -could always feel that a part of her remained here, -where she would that all of her might be; but she knew -that she must go, and she determined to tell them on the -following day that she would return to the city within -the week.</p> - -<p>It was going to be hard to announce her decision, for -she was not blind to the fact that they had grown fond -of her, and that her presence meant much to Eva, who, -since Grace’s departure, had greatly missed the companionship -of a girl near her own age. Mrs. Pennington -and the colonel had been a mother and father to her, and -Custer a big brother and a most charming companion.</p> - -<p>She passed that night without recourse to the white -powders, for she must be frugal of them if they were to -last through the week. The next morning she rode with -the Penningtons and the Evanses as usual. She would -tell them at breakfast.</p> - -<p>When she came to the table she found a pair of silver -spurs beside her plate, and when she looked about in -astonishment they were all smiling.</p> - -<p>“For me?” she cried.</p> - -<p>“From the Penningtons,” said the colonel. “You’ve<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> -won ’em, my dear. You ride like a trooper already.”</p> - -<p>The girl choked, and the tears came to her eyes.</p> - -<p>“You are all so lovely to me!” she said. Walking -around the table to the colonel, she put her arms about -his neck, and, standing on tiptoe, kissed his cheek. “How -can I ever thank you?”</p> - -<p>“You don’t have to, child. The spurs are nothing.”</p> - -<p>“They are everything to me. They are a badge of -honor that—that—I don’t deserve!”</p> - -<p>“But you do deserve them. You wouldn’t have got -them if you hadn’t. We might have given you something -else—a vanity case or a book, perhaps; but no one gets -spurs from the Penningtons who does not <em>belong</em>.”</p> - -<p>After that she simply couldn’t tell them then that she -was going away. She would wait until to-morrow; but -she laid her plans without reference to the hand of fate.</p> - -<p>That afternoon, immediately after luncheon, they were -all seated in the patio, lazily discussing the chief topic -of thought—the heat. It was one of those sultry days -that are really unusual in southern California. The heat -was absolutely oppressive, and even beneath the canvas -canopy that shaded the patio there was little relief.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know why we sit here,” said Custer. “It’s -cooler in the house. This is the hottest place on the -ranch a day like this!”</p> - -<p>“Wouldn’t it be nice under one of those oaks up the -cañon?” suggested Shannon.</p> - -<p>He looked at her and smiled.</p> - -<p>“Phew! It’s too hot even to think of getting there.”</p> - -<p>“<em>That</em> from a Pennington!” she cried in mock astonishment -and reproach.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to say that you’d ride up there through -this heat?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“Of course I would. I haven’t christened my new -spurs yet.”</p> - -<p>“I’m game, then, if you are,” Custer announced.</p> - -<p>She jumped to her feet.</p> - -<p>“Come on, then! Who else is going?”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span></p> - -<p>Shannon looked around at them questioningly. Mrs. -Pennington shook her head, smiling.</p> - -<p>“Not I. Before breakfast is enough for me in the -summer time.”</p> - -<p>“I have to dictate some letters,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“And I suppose little Eva has to stay at home and -powder her nose,” suggested Custer, grinning at his -sister.</p> - -<p>“Little Eva is going to drive over to Ganado with -Guy Thackeray Evans, the famous author,” said the girl. -“He expects an express package—his story’s coming back -again. Horrid, stupid old editors! They don’t know a -real story when they see one. I’m in it—Guy put me in. -You all ought to read it—oh, it’s simply radiant! I’m -<em>Hortense</em>—tall and willowy and very dignified——” Eva -made a grimace.</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s you, unmistakably,” said Custer. “Tall -and willowy and very dignified—Guy’s some hot baby at -character delineation!”</p> - -<p>Eva ignored the interruption.</p> - -<p>“I swoon when the villain enters my room and carries -me off. Then the hero—he’s <em>Bruce Bellinghame</em>, tall -and slender, with curly <span class="locked">hair——”</span></p> - -<p>“Is he very dignified, too?”</p> - -<p>“And then the hero pursues and rescues me just as the -villain is going to hurl me off a cliff—oh, it’s gorgeristic!”</p> - -<p>“It must be,” commented Custer.</p> - -<p>“You’re horrid,” said Eva. “You ought to have been -an editor.”</p> - -<p>“Tall and slender, with curly hair,” gibed Custer. “Or -was it tall and curly, with slender hair? Come on, Shannon! -I see where we are the only real sports in the -family.”</p> - -<p>“Hot sports is what you’re going to be!” Eva called -after them.</p> - -<p>“The only real sports in the family—in the family!” -The words thrilled her. They had taken her in—they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -had made her a part of their life. It was wonderful. -Oh, God, if it could only last forever!</p> - -<p>It was very hot. The dust rose from the shuffling feet -of their horses. Even the Apache shuffled to-day. His -head was low, and he did not dance. The dust settled on -sweating neck and flank, and filled the eyes of the riders.</p> - -<p>“Lovely day for a ride,” commented Custer.</p> - -<p>“But think how nice it will be under the oak,” she reminded -him.</p> - -<p>“I’m trying to.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly he raised his head as his wandering eyes -sighted a slender column of smoke rising from behind -the ridge beyond Jackknife Cañon. He reined in the -Apache.</p> - -<p>“Fire!” he said to the girl. “Wait here. I’ll notify -the boys, and then we’ll ride on ahead and have a look -at it. It may not amount to anything.”</p> - -<p>He wheeled about and was off at a run—the heat and -the dust forgotten. She watched him go, erect in the -saddle, swinging easily with every motion of his mount—a -part of the horse. In less than five minutes he was -back.</p> - -<p>“Come on!” he cried.</p> - -<p>She swung Baldy in beside the Apache, and they were -off. The loose stones clattered from the iron hoofs, the -dust rose far behind them now, and they had forgotten -the heat. A short cut crossed a narrow wash that meant -a jump.</p> - -<p>“Grab the horn!” he cried to her. “Give him his head!”</p> - -<p>They went over almost stirrup to stirrup, and he -smiled broadly, for she had not grabbed the horn. She -had taken the jump like a veteran.</p> - -<p>She thrilled with the excitement of the pace. The -horses flattened out—their backs seemed to vibrate in a -constant plane—it was like flying. The hot wind blew -in her face and choked her; but she laughed and wanted -to shout aloud and swing a hat.</p> - -<p>More slowly they climbed the side of Jackknife, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span> -just beyond the ridge they saw the flames leaping in a -narrow ravine below them. Fortunately there was no -wind—no more than what the fire itself was making; -but it was burning fiercely in thick brush.</p> - -<p>“There isn’t a thing to do,” he told her, “till the boys -come with the teams and plows and shovels. It’s in a -mean place—too steep to plow, and heavy brush; but -we’ve got to stop it!”</p> - -<p>Presently the “boys”—a wagon full of them—came -with four horses, two walking plows, shovels, a barrel -of water, and burlap sacks. They were of all ages, from -eighteen to seventy. Some of them had been twenty -years on the ranch, and had fought many a fire. They -did not have to be told what to bring or what to do with -what they brought.</p> - -<p>The wagon had to be left in Jackknife Cañon. The -horses dragged the plows to the ridge, and the men carried -the shovels and wet burlaps and buckets of water -from the barrel. Custer dismounted and turned the -Apache over to an old man to hold.</p> - -<p>“Plow down the east side of the ravine. Try to get -all the way around the south side of the fire and then -back again,” he directed the two men with one of the -teams. “I’ll take the other, with Jake, and we’ll try to -cut her off across the top here!”</p> - -<p>“You can’t do it, Cus,” said one of the older men. -“It’s too steep.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve got to try it,” said Pennington. “Otherwise -we’d have to go back so far that it would get away from -us on the east side before we made the circle. Jake, -you choke the plow handles—I’ll drive!”</p> - -<p>Jake was a short, stocky, red-headed boy of twenty, -with shoulders like a bull. He grinned good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>“I’ll choke the tar out of ’em!” he said.</p> - -<p>“The rest of you shovel and beat like hell!” ordered -Custer.</p> - -<p>Shannon watched him as he took the reins and started -the team forward, slowly, quietly. There was no yelling.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span> -They were horsemen, these men of Ganado. The great -Percherons moved ponderously forward. The plow point -bit deep into the earth, but the huge beasts walked on as -if dragging an empty wagon.</p> - -<p>When the girl saw where Custer was guiding them she -held her breath. No, she must be mistaken! He would -turn them up toward the ridge. He could not be thinking -of trying to drive them across the steep, shelving side of -the ravine!</p> - -<p>But he was. They slipped and caught themselves. -Directly below them the burning brush had become a fiery -furnace. If ever they failed to catch themselves, nothing -could save them from that hell of heat.</p> - -<p>Jake, clinging to the plow handles, stumbled and slid, -but the plow steadied him, and the furrow saved his -footing a dozen times in as many yards. Custer, driving, -walked just below the plow. How he kept the team -going was a miracle to the girl.</p> - -<p>The steep sides of the ravine seemed almost perpendicular -in places, with footing fit only for a goat. How -those heavy horses clung there was beyond her. Only implicit -confidence in these men of Ganado, who had handled -them from the time they were foaled, and great courage, -could account for it.</p> - -<p>What splendid animals they were! The crackling of -burning brush, the roaring of the flames, the almost unbearable -heat that swept up to them from below, must -have been terrifying; and yet only by occasional nervous -side glances and uppricked ears did they acknowledge -their instinctive fear of fire.</p> - -<p>At first it had seemed to Shannon a mad thing to attempt, -but as she watched and realized what Custer -sought to accomplish, she understood the wisdom of it. -If he could check the flames here with a couple of furrows, -he might gain time to stop its eastward progress -to the broad pastures filled with the tinder-dry grasses -and brush of late August.</p> - -<p>Already some of the men were working with shovels,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> -just above the furrow that the plow was running, clearing -away the brush and throwing it back. Shannon watched -these men, and there was not a shirker among them. -They worked between the fierce heat of the sun and the -fierce heat of the fire, each one of them as if he owned -the ranch. It was fine proof of loyalty; and she saw an -indication of the reason for it in Custer’s act when he -turned the Apache over to the oldest man, in order that -the veteran might not be called upon to do work beyond -his strength, while young Pennington himself undertook -a dangerous and difficult part in the battle.</p> - -<p>The sight thrilled her; and beside this picture she saw -Wilson Crumb directing a Western scene, sending -mounted men over a steep cliff, while he sat in safety -beside the camera man, hurling taunts and insults at the -poor devils who risked their lives for five dollars a day. -He had killed one horse that time and sent two men to -hospital, badly injured—and the next day he had bragged -about it!</p> - -<p>Now they were across the ravine and moving along -the east side on safer footing. Shannon realized the tension -that had been upon her nerves when reaction followed -the lessening of the strain—she felt limp and -fagged.</p> - -<p>The smoke hid them from her occasionally, as it rose -in cloudlike puffs. Then there would be a break in it, -and she would see the black coats of the Percherons and -the figures of the sweating men. They rounded well -down the east side of the ravine and then turned back -again; for the other team, with easier going, would soon -be up on that side to join its furrow with theirs. They -were running the second furrow just above the first, and -this time the work seemed safer, for the horses had the -first furrow below them should they slip—a ridge of -loose earth that would give them footing.</p> - -<p>They were more than halfway back when it happened. -The off horse must have stepped upon a loose stone, so -suddenly did he lurch to the left, striking the shoulder<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> -of his mate just as the latter had planted his left forefoot. -The ton of weight hurled against the shoulder of the near -horse threw him downward against the furrow. He -tried to catch himself on his right foot, crossed his forelegs, -stumbled over the ridge of newly turned earth, and -rolled down the hill, dragging his mate and the plow after -him toward the burning brush below.</p> - -<p>Jake at the plow handles and Custer on the lines tried -to check the horses’ fall, but both were jerked from their -hands, and the two Percherons rolled over and over into -the burning brush. A groan of dismay went up from -the men. It was with difficulty that Shannon stifled a -scream; and then her heart stood still as she saw Custer -Pennington leap deliberately down the hillside, drawing -the long, heavy trail-cutting knife that he always wore -on the belt with his gun.</p> - -<p>The horses were struggling and floundering to gain -their feet. One of them was screaming with pain. The -girl wanted to cover her eyes with her palms to shut out -the heart-rending sight, but she could not take them from -the figure of the man.</p> - -<p>She saw that the upper horse was so entangled with the -harness and the plow that he could not rise, and that he -was holding the other down. Then she saw the man -leap into the midst of the struggling, terrified mass of -horseflesh, seeking to cut the beasts loose from the tangled -traces and the plow. It seemed impossible that he could -escape the flying hoofs or the tongued flames that licked -upward as if in hungry greed to seize this new prey.</p> - -<p>As Shannon watched, a great light awoke within her, -suddenly revealing the unsuspected existence of a wondrous -thing that had come into her life—a thing which a -moment later dragged her from her saddle and sent her -stumbling down the hill into the burning ravine, to the -side of Custer Pennington.</p> - -<p>He had cut one horse free, seized its headstall, dragged -it to its feet, and then started it scrambling up the hill. -As he was returning to the other, the animal struggled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span> -up, crazed with terror and pain, and bolted after its mate. -Pennington was directly in its path on the steep hillside. -He tried to leap aside, but the horse struck him with its -shoulder, hurling him to the ground, and before he could -stop his fall he was at the edge of the burning brush, -stunned and helpless.</p> - -<p>Every man of them who saw the accident leaped down -the hillside to save him from the flames; but quick as they -were, Shannon Burke was first to his side, vainly endeavoring -to drag him to safety. An instant later strong -hands seized both Custer and Shannon and helped them -up the steep acclivity, for Pennington had already regained -consciousness, and it was not necessary to carry -him.</p> - -<p>Custer was badly burned, but his first thought was for -the girl, and his next, when he found she was uninjured, -for the horses. They had run for only a short distance -and were standing on the ridge above Jackknife, where -one of the men had caught them. One was burned about -the neck and shoulder; the other had a bad cut above the -hock, where he had struck the plow point in his struggles.</p> - -<p>“Take them in and take care of those wounds, Jake,” -said Pennington, after examining them. “You go along,” -he told another of the men, “and bring out Dick and -Dave. I don’t like to risk them in this work, but none -of the colts are steady enough for this.”</p> - -<p>Then he turned to Shannon.</p> - -<p>“Why did you go down into that?” he asked. “You -shouldn’t have done it—with all the men here.”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t help it,” she said. “I thought you were -going to be killed.”</p> - -<p>Custer looked at her searchingly for a moment.</p> - -<p>“It was a very brave thing to do,” he said, “and a -very foolish thing. You might have been badly burned.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind that,” she said. “<em>You</em> have been badly -burned, and you must go to the house at once. Do you -think you can ride?”</p> - -<p>He laughed.</p> - -<p>“I’m all right,” he said. “I’ve got to stay here and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -fight this fire.”</p> - -<p>“You are not going to do anything of the kind.” She -turned and called to the man who held Pennington’s horse. -“Please bring the Apache over here,” she said. “These -men can fight the fire without you,” she told Custer. -“You are going right back with me. You’ve never seen -any one badly burned, or you’d know how necessary it -is to take care of your burns at once.”</p> - -<p>He was not accustomed to being ordered about, and it -amused him. Grace would never have thought of questioning -his judgment in this or any other matter; but this -girl’s attitude implied that she considered his judgment -faulty and his decisions of no consequence. She evidently -had the courage of her convictions, for she caught -up her own horse and rode over to the men, who had -resumed their work, to tell them that Custer was too -badly burned to remain with them.</p> - -<p>“I told him that he must go back to the house and have -his burns dressed; but he doesn’t want to. Maybe he -would pay more attention to you, if you told him.”</p> - -<p>“Sure, we’ll tell him,” cried one of them. “Here comes -Colonel Pennington now. He’ll make him go, if it’s -necessary.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Pennington reined in a dripping horse beside -his son, and Shannon rode over to them. Custer was -telling him about the accident to the team.</p> - -<p>“Burned, was he?” exclaimed the colonel. “Why -damn it, man, <em>you’re</em> burned!”</p> - -<p>“It’s nothing,” replied the younger man.</p> - -<p>“It <em>is</em> something, colonel,” cried Shannon. “Please -make him go back to the house. He won’t pay any attention -to me, and he ought to be cared for right away. -He should have a doctor just as quickly as we can get -one.”</p> - -<p>“Can you ride?” snapped the colonel at Custer.</p> - -<p>“Of course I can ride!”</p> - -<p>“Then get out of here and take care of yourself. Will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span> -you go with him, Shannon? Have them call Dr. Baldwin.”</p> - -<p>His rough manner did not conceal the father’s concern, -or his deep love for his boy. That he could be as -gentle as a woman was evidenced, when he dismounted, -in the way that he helped Custer to his saddle.</p> - -<p>“Take care of him, my dear,” he said to Shannon. “I’ll -stay here and help the boys. Ask Mrs. Pennington to -send the car out with some iced water or lemonade for -them. Take care of yourself, boy!” he called after them -as they rode away.</p> - -<p>As the horses moved slowly along the dusty trail, Shannon, -riding a pace behind the man, watched his profile -for signs of pain, that she knew he must be suffering. -Once, when he winced, she almost gave a little cry, as -if it had been she who was tortured. They were riding -very close, and she laid her hand gently upon his right -arm, in sympathy.</p> - -<p>“I am so sorry!” she said. “I know it must pain you -terribly.”</p> - -<p>He turned to her with a smile on his face, now white -and drawn.</p> - -<p>“It does hurt a little now,” he said.</p> - -<p>“And you did it to save those two dumb brutes. I -think it was magnificent, Custer!”</p> - -<p>He looked at her in mild surprise.</p> - -<p>“What was there magnificent about it? It was my -duty. My father has always taught me that the ownership -of animals entails certain moral obligations which -no honorable man can ignore—that it isn’t sufficient -merely to own them, and feed them, and house them; -but to serve and protect them, even if it entailed sacrifices -to do so.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe he meant that you should give your -life for them,” she said.</p> - -<p>“No, of course not; but I am not giving my life.”</p> - -<p>“You might have.”</p> - -<p>“I really didn’t think there would be any danger to me,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span> -he said. “I guess I didn’t think anything about it. I saw -those two beautiful animals, who had been working there -for me so bravely, helpless at the edge of that fire, and -I couldn’t have helped doing what I did under any circumstances. -You don’t know, Shannon, how we Penningtons -love our horses. It’s been bred in the bone -for generations. Perhaps it’s silly; but we don’t think -so.”</p> - -<p>“Neither do I. It’s fine.”</p> - -<p>By the time they reached the house she could see that -the man was suffering excruciating pain. The stableman -had gone to help the fire fighters, as had every able-bodied -man on the ranch, so that she had to help Custer -from the Apache. After tying the two horses at the -stable, she put an arm about him and assisted him up the -long flight of steps to the house. There Mrs. Pennington -and Hannah came at her call and took him to his room, -while she ran to the office to telephone for the doctor.</p> - -<p>When she returned, they had Custer undressed and -in bed, and were giving such first aid as they could. She -stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him, as -he fought to hide the agony he was enduring. He rolled -his head slowly from side to side, as his mother and -Hannah worked over him; but he stifled even a faint -moan, though Shannon knew that his tortured body -must be goading him to screams. He opened his eyes and -saw her, and tried to smile.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Pennington turned then and discovered her.</p> - -<p>“Please let me do something, Mrs. Pennington, if there -is anything I can do.”</p> - -<p>“I guess we can’t do much until the doctor comes. If -we only had something to quiet the pain until then!”</p> - -<p>If they only had something to quiet the pain. The horror -of it! She had something that would quiet the pain; -but at what a frightful cost to herself must she divulge -it! They would know, then, the sordid story of her vice. -There could be no other explanation of her having such -an outfit in her possession. How they would loathe her!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -To see disgust in the eyes of these friends, whose good -opinion was her one cherished longing, seemed a punishment -too great to bear.</p> - -<p>And then there was the realization of that new force -that had entered her life with the knowledge that she -loved Custer Pennington. It was a hopeless love, she -knew; but she might at least have had the happiness of -knowing that he respected her. Was she to be spared -nothing? Was her sin to deprive her of even the respect -of the man whom she loved?</p> - -<p>She saw him lying there, and saw the muscles of his -jaws tensing as he battled to conceal his pain; and then -she turned and ran up the stairway to her rooms. She -did not hesitate again, but went directly to her bag, unlocked -it, and took out the little black case. Carefully -she dissolved a little of the white powder—a fraction of -what she could have taken without danger of serious results, -but enough to allay his suffering until the doctor -came. She knew that this was the end—that she might -not remain under that roof another night.</p> - -<p>She drew the liquid through the needle into the glass -barrel of the syringe, wrapped it in her handkerchief, -and descended the stairs. She felt as if she moved in a -dream. She felt that she was not Shannon Burke at all, -but another whom Shannon Burke watched with pitying -eyes; for it did not seem possible that she could enter that -room and before his eyes and Mrs. Pennington’s and -Hannah’s reveal the thing that she carried in her -handkerchief.</p> - -<p>Ah, the pity of it! To realize her first love, and in -the same hour to slay the respect of its object with her -own hand! Yet she entered the room with a brave step, -fearlessly. Had he not risked his life for the two dumb -brutes he loved? Could she be less courageous? Perhaps -though, she was braver, for she was knowingly surrendering -what was dearer to her than life.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Pennington turned toward her as she entered.</p> - -<p>“He has fainted,” she said. “My poor boy!”</p> - -<p>Tears stood in his mother’s eyes.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span></p> - -<p>“He is not suffering, then?” asked Shannon, trembling.</p> - -<p>“Not now. For his sake, I hope he won’t recover consciousness -until after the doctor comes.”</p> - -<p>Shannon Burke staggered and would have fallen had -she not grasped the frame of the door.</p> - -<p>It was not long before the doctor came, and then she -went back up the stairs to her rooms, still trembling. She -took the filled hypodermic syringe from her handkerchief -and looked at it. Then she carried it into the bathroom.</p> - -<p>“You can never tempt me again,” she said aloud, as -she emptied its contents into the lavatory. “Oh, dear God, -I love him!”</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">That</span> night Shannon insisted upon taking her turn at -Custer’s bedside, and she was so determined that they -could not refuse her. He was still suffering, but not so -acutely. The doctor had left morphine, with explicit directions -for its administration should it be required. The -burns, while numerous, and reaching from his left ankle -to his cheek, were superficial, and, though painful, not -necessarily dangerous.</p> - -<p>He slept but little, and when he was awake he wanted -to talk. He told her about Grace. It was his first confidence—a -sweetly sad one—for he was a reticent man -concerning those things that were nearest his heart and -consequently the most sacred to him. He had not heard -from Grace for some time, and her mother had had but -one letter—a letter that had not sounded like Grace at -all. They were anxious about her.</p> - -<p>“I wish she would come home!” he said wistfully. -“You would like her, Shannon. We could have such -bully times together! I think I would be content here if -Grace were back; but without her it seems very different, -and very lonely. You know we have always been together, -all of us, since we were children—Grace, Eva, Guy, and -I; and now that you are here it would be all the better, -for you are just like us. You seem like us, at least—as -if you had always lived here, too.”</p> - -<p>“It’s nice to have you say that; but I haven’t always -been here, and, really, you know I don’t <em>belong</em>.”</p> - -<p>“But you do belong!”</p> - -<p>“And I’m going away again pretty soon. I must go -back to the city.”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t go back,” he begged. “You don’t really<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> -have to, do you?”</p> - -<p>“I had intended telling you all this morning; but after -the spurs, I couldn’t.”</p> - -<p>“Do you <em>really</em> have to go?” Custer insisted.</p> - -<p>“I don’t have to, but I think I ought to. Do you want -me to stay—honestly?”</p> - -<p>“Honest Injun!” he said, smiling.</p> - -<p>“Maybe I will.”</p> - -<p>He reached over with his right hand and took hers.</p> - -<p>“Oh, will you?” he exclaimed. “You don’t know how -much we want you—all of us.”</p> - -<p>It was precisely what he might have done or said to -Eva in boyish affection and comradeship.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to stay,” she announced. “I’ve made up -my mind. As soon as you are well I’m going to move -down to my own place and really learn to work it. I’d -love it!”</p> - -<p>“And I’ll come down and help you with what little I -know about oranges. Father will, too. We don’t know -much—citrus growing is a little out of our line, though -we have a small orchard here; but we’ll give you the -best we’ve got. And it’ll be fine for Eva—she loves you. -She cried the other day—the last time you mentioned in -earnest that you might not stay.”</p> - -<p>“She’s a dear!”</p> - -<p>“She is all of that,” he said. “We have always had -our fights—I suppose all brothers and sisters do—and we -kid one another a lot; but there never was a sister like -Eva. Just let any one else say anything against me! -They’d have a fight on their hands right there, if Eva -was around. And sunshine! The old place seems like -a morgue every time she goes away.”</p> - -<p>“She worships you, Custer.”</p> - -<p>“She’s a brick!”</p> - -<p>He could have voiced no higher praise.</p> - -<p>He asked about the fire, and especially about the -horses. He was delighted when she told him that a man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> -had just come down to say that the fire was practically -out, and the colonel was coming in shortly; and that the -veterinary had been there and found the team not seriously -injured.</p> - -<p>“I think that fire was incendiary,” he said; “but now -that Slick Allen is in jail, I don’t know who would set -it.”</p> - -<p>“Who is Slick Allen,” she asked, “and why should he -want to set fire to Ganado?”</p> - -<p>He told her, and she was silent for a while, thinking -about Allen and the last time she had seen him. She -wondered what he would do when he got out of jail. She -would hate to be in Wilson Crumb’s boots then, for she -guessed that Allen was a hard character.</p> - -<p>While she was thinking of Allen, Custer mentioned -Guy Evans. Instantly there came to her mind, for the -first time since that last evening at the Vista del Paso -bungalow, Crumb’s conversation with Allen and the latter’s -account of the disposition of the stolen whisky. His -very words returned to her.</p> - -<p>“Got a young high-blood at the edge of the valley -handling it—a fellow by the name of Evans.”</p> - -<p>She had not connected Allen or that conversation or -the Evans he had mentioned with these people; but now -she knew that it was Guy Evans who was disposing of -the stolen liquor. She wondered if Allen would return -to this part of the country after he was released from jail. -If he did, and saw her, he would be sure to recognize -her, for he must have had her features impressed upon -his memory by the fact that she so resembled some one -he had known.</p> - -<p>If he recognized her, would be expose her? She did -not doubt but that he would. The chances were that he -would attempt to blackmail her; but, worst of all, he -might tell Crumb where she was. That was the thing -she dreaded most—seeing Wilson Crumb again, or having -him discover her whereabouts; for she knew that he -would leave no stone unturned, and hesitate to stoop to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span> -no dishonorable act, to get her back again. She shuddered -when she thought of him—a man whose love, even, -was a dishonorable and dishonoring thing.</p> - -<p>Then she turned her eyes to the face of the man lying -there on the bed beside which she sat. He would never -love her; but her love for him had already ennobled -her.</p> - -<p>If the people of her old life did not discover her hiding -place, she could remain here on her little grove, near -Ganada, and see Custer often—nearly every day. He -would not guess her love—no one would guess it; but -she should be happy just to be near him. Even if Grace -returned, it would make no difference—even if Grace and -Custer were married. Shannon knew that he was not for -her—no honorable man was for her, after what she had -been—but there was no moral law to be transgressed by -her secret love for him.</p> - -<p>She felt no jealousy for Grace. He belonged to Grace, -and even had she thought she might win him she would -not have attempted it, for she had always held in contempt -those who infringed selfishly upon settled affections. -It would be hard for her, of course, when Grace -returned; but she was determined to like her, even to -love her. She would be untrue to this new love that had -transfigured her should she fail to love what <em>he</em> loved.</p> - -<p>Custer moved restlessly. Again he was giving evidence -of suffering. She laid a cool palm upon his forehead, -and stroked it. He opened his eyes and smiled up at -her.</p> - -<p>“It’s bully of you to sit with me,” he said; “but you -ought to be in bed. You’ve had a pretty hard day, and -you’re not as used to it as we are.”</p> - -<p>“I am not tired,” she said, “and I should like to stay—if -you would like to have me.”</p> - -<p>He took her hand from his forehead and kissed it.</p> - -<p>“Of course I like to have you here, Shannon—you’re -just like a sister. It’s funny, isn’t it, that we should all -feel that way about you, when we’ve only known you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -a few weeks? It must have been because of the way you -fitted in. You belonged right from the start—you were -just like us.”</p> - -<p>She turned her head away suddenly, casting her eyes -upon the floor and biting her lip to keep back the tears.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“I am not like you, Custer; but I have tried hard to -be.”</p> - -<p>“Why aren’t you like us?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“I—why, I—couldn’t ride a horse,” she explained -lamely.</p> - -<p>“Don’t make me laugh, please; my face is burned,” he -pleaded in mock irony. “Do you think that’s all we know, -or think of, or possess—our horsemanship? We have -hearts, and minds, such as they are—and souls, I hope. -It was of these things that I was thinking. I was thinking, -too, that we Penningtons demand a higher standard -in women than is customary nowadays. We are a little -old-fashioned, I guess. We want the blood of our horses -and the minds of our women pure. Here is a case in -point—I can tell you, because you don’t know the girl -and never will. She was the daughter of a friend of -Cousin William—our New York cousin. She was spending -the winter in Pasadena, and we had her out here on -Cousin William’s account. She was a pippin of a -looker, and I suppose she was all right morally; but she -didn’t have a clean mind. I discovered it about the first -time I talked with her alone; and then Eva asked me a -question about something that she couldn’t have known -about at all except through this girl. I didn’t know what -to do. She was a girl, and so I couldn’t talk about her -to any one, not even my father or mother; but I didn’t -want her around Eva. I wondered if I was just a -narrow prig, and if, after all, there was nothing that any -one need take exception to in the girl. I got to analyzing -the thing, and I came to the conclusion that I would be -ashamed of mother and Eva if they talked or thought -along such lines. Consequently, it wasn’t right to expose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -Eva to that influence. That was what I decided, -and I don’t just <em>think</em> I was right—I <em>know</em> I was.”</p> - -<p>“And what did you do?” Shannon asked in a very -small voice.</p> - -<p>“I did what under any other circumstances would have -been unpardonable. I went to the girl and asked her to -make some excuse that would terminate her visit. It -was a very hard thing to do; but I would do more than -that—I would sacrifice my most cherished friendship—for -Eva.”</p> - -<p>“And the girl—did you tell her why you asked her to -go?”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t want to, but she insisted, and I told her.”</p> - -<p>“Did she understand?”</p> - -<p>“She did not.”</p> - -<p>They were silent for some time.</p> - -<p>“Do you think I did wrong?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“No. There is mental virtue as well as physical. It -is as much your duty to protect your sister’s mind as to -protect her body.”</p> - -<p>“I knew you’d think as I do about it; but let me tell -you it was an awful jolt to the cherished Pennington -hospitality. I hope I never have to do it again!”</p> - -<p>“I hope you never do.”</p> - -<p>He commenced to show increasing signs of suffering, -presently, and then he asked for morphine.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to take it unless I have to,” he explained.</p> - -<p>“No,” she said, “do not take it unless you have to.”</p> - -<p>She prepared and administered it, but she felt no desire -for it herself. Then Eva came to relieve her, and she -bade them good night and went up to bed. She awoke -about four o’clock in the morning, and immediately -thought of the little black case; but she only smiled, -turned over, and went back to sleep again.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">It</span> was several weeks before Custer could ride again, -and in the meantime Shannon had gone down to her -own place to live. She came up every day on Baldy, -who had been loaned to her until Custer should be able -to select a horse for her. She insisted that she would own -nothing but a Morgan, and that she wanted one of the -Apache’s brothers.</p> - -<p>“You’ll have to wait, then, until I can break one for -you,” Custer told her. “There are a couple of four-year-olds -that are saddle-broke and bridle-wise in a way; but -I wouldn’t want you to ride either of them until they’ve -had the finishing touches. I want to ride them enough -to learn their faults, if they have any. In the meantime -you just keep Baldy down there and use him. How’s -ranching? You look as if it agreed with you. Nobody’d -know you for the same girl. You look like an Indian, -and how your cheeks have filled out!”</p> - -<p>The girl smiled happily.</p> - -<p>“I never knew before what it was to live,” she said. -“I have never been sickly; but on the other hand I never -<em>felt</em> health before, to know it was a tangible, enjoyable -possession that one experienced and was conscious of -every moment. People fill themselves with medicines, or -drugs, or liquors, to induce temporarily a poor imitation -of what they might enjoy constantly if they only would. -A man who thinks that a drink is the only thing that -can make one feel like shouting and waving one’s hat -should throw a leg over one of your Morgans before -breakfast one of these cool September mornings, and give -him his head and let him go. Oh, <em>boy</em>!” she cried. -“<em>There’s</em> intoxication for you!”</p> - -<p>Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dancing. She was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -a picture of life and health and happiness; and Custer’s -eyes were sparkling, too.</p> - -<p>“Gee!” he exclaimed. “You’re a regular Pennington!”</p> - -<p>“I wish I were!” the girl thought to herself. “You -honor me,” was what she said aloud.</p> - -<p>Custer laughed.</p> - -<p>“That sounded rotten, didn’t it? But you know what -I meant—it’s nice to have people whom we like like -the same things we do. It doesn’t necessarily mean that -we think our likes are the best in the world. I didn’t -mean to be egotistical.”</p> - -<p>Eva had just entered the patio.</p> - -<p>“Listen to him, the radiant child!” she exclaimed. “Do -you know, Shannon, that dear little brother just hates -himself!”</p> - -<p>She walked over and perched on his knee and kissed -him.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Custer, “brother hates himself. He spends -hours powdering his nose. Mother found a lip stick and -an eyebrow pencil, or whatever you call it, in his dressing -table recently; and when he goes to L. A. he has -his eyebrows plucked.”</p> - -<p>Eva jumped from his knee and stamped her foot.</p> - -<p>“I <em>never</em> had my eyebrows plucked!” she cried. -“They’re naturally this way.”</p> - -<p>“Why the excitement, little one? Did I say you did -have them plucked?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you tried to make Shannon think so. I got -the lip stick and the other things so that if we have any -amateur theatricals this winter I’ll have them. Do you -know, I think I’ll go on the stage or the screen—wouldn’t -it be splishous, though?—‘Miss Eva Pennington is starring -in the new and popular success based on the story -by Guy Thackeray Evans, the eminent author!’”</p> - -<p>“Eminent! He isn’t even imminent,” said Custer.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Eva!” cried Shannon, genuine concern in her -tone. “Surely you wouldn’t <em>think</em> of the screen, would -you? You’re not serious?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Custer. “She’s serious—serious is her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span> -middle name. To-morrow she will want to be a painter, -and day after to-morrow the world’s most celebrated -harpist. Eva is nothing if not serious, while her tenacity -of purpose is absolutely inspiring. Why, once, for one -whole day, she wanted to do the same thing.”</p> - -<p>Eva was laughing with her brother and Shannon.</p> - -<p>“If she were just like every one else, you wouldn’t -love your little sister any more,” she said, running her -fingers through his hair. “Honestly, ever since I met -Wilson Crumb, I have thought I should like to be a movie -star.”</p> - -<p>“Wilson Crumb!” exclaimed Shannon. “What do <em>you</em> -know of Wilson Crumb?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ve met him,” said Eva airily. “Don’t you envy -me?”</p> - -<p>“What do you know about him, Shannon?” asked Custer. -“Your tone indicated that you may have heard something -about him that wasn’t complimentary.”</p> - -<p>“No—I don’t know him. It’s only what I’ve heard. -I don’t think you’d like him.” Shannon almost shuddered -at the thought of this dear child even so much as -knowing Wilson Crumb. “Oh, Eva!” she cried impulsively. -“You mustn’t even think of going into pictures. -I lived in Los Angeles long enough to learn that the life -is oftentimes a hard one, filled with disappointment, disillusionment, -and regrets—principally regrets.”</p> - -<p>“And Grace is there now,” said Custer in a low voice, -a worried look in his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Can’t you persuade her to return?”</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>“It wouldn’t be fair,” he said. “She is trying to succeed, -and we ought to encourage her. It is probably hard -enough for her at best, without all of us suggesting -antagonism to her ambition by constantly urging her to -abandon it, so we try to keep our letters cheerful.”</p> - -<p>“Have you been to see her since she left? No, I know -you haven’t. If I were you, I’d run down to L. A. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span> -might mean a lot to her, Custer; it might mean more than -you can guess.”</p> - -<p>The girl spoke from a full measure of bitter experience. -She realized what it might have meant to her -had there been some man like this to come to her when -she had needed the strong arm of a clean love to drag her -from the verge of the mire. She would have gone away -with such a man—gone back home, and thanked God for -the opportunity. If Grace loved Custer, and was encountering -the malign forces that had arisen from their -own corruption to claw at Shannon’s skirts, she would -come back with him.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, should conditions be what they -ought to be, and what they are in some studios, Custer -would return with a report that would lift a load from -the hearts of all of them, while it left Grace encouraged -and inspired by the active support of those most dear to -her. What it would mean to Shannon, in either event, -the girl did not consider. Her soul was above jealousy. -She was prompted only by a desire to save another from -the anguish she had endured, and to bring happiness to -the man she loved.</p> - -<p>“You really think I ought to go?” Custer asked. “You -know she has insisted that none of us should come. She -said she wanted to do it all on her own, without any help. -Grace is not only very ambitious, but very proud. I’m -afraid she might not like it.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t care what she liked,” said Shannon. -“Either you or Guy should run down there and see her. -You are the two men most vitally interested in her. No -girl should be left alone long in Hollywood without some -one to whom she can look for the right sort of guidance -and—and—protection.”</p> - -<p>“I believe I’ll do it,” said Custer. “I can’t get away -right now; but I’ll run down there before I go on to -Chicago with the show herds for the International.”</p> - -<p>It was shortly after this that Custer began to ride -again, and Shannon usually rode with him. Unconsciously<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span> -he had come to depend upon her companionship -more and more. He had been drinking less on account -of it, for it had broken a habit which he had been forming -since Grace’s departure—that of carrying a flask with -him on his lonely rides through the hills.</p> - -<p>As a small boy, it had been Custer’s duty, as well as -his pleasure, to “ride fence.” He had continued the -custom long after it might have been assigned to an employee, -not only because it had meant long, pleasant hours -in the saddle with Grace, but also to get first-hand knowledge -of the condition of the pastures and the herds, as -well as of the fences. During his enforced idleness, while -recovering from his burns, the duty had devolved upon -Jake.</p> - -<p>On the first day that Custer took up the work again, -Jake had called his attention to a matter that had long -been a subject of discussion and conjecture on the part -of the employees.</p> - -<p>“There’s something funny goin’ on back in them hills,” -said Jake. “I’ve seen fresh signs every week of horses -and burros comin’ and goin’. Sometimes they trail -through El Camino Largo and again through Corto, an’ -they’ve even been down through the old goat corral once, -plumb through the ranch, an’ out the west gate. But -what I can’t tell for sure is whether they come in an’ go -out, or go out an’ come in. Whoever does it is foxy. -Their two trails never cross, an’ they must be made within -a few hours of each other, for I’m not Injun enough to -tell which is freshest—the one comin’ to Ganado or the -one goin’ out. An’ then they muss it up by draggin’ -brush, so it’s hard to tell how many they be of ’em. It’s -got me.”</p> - -<p>“They head for Jackknife, don’t they?” asked Custer.</p> - -<p>“Sometimes, an’ sometimes they go straight up Sycamore, -an’ again they head in or out of half a dozen different -little barrancos comin’ down from the east; but -sooner or later I lose ’em—can’t never follow ’em no -place in particular. Looks like as if they split up.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe it’s only greasers from the valley coming up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -after firewood at night.”</p> - -<p>“Mebbe,” said Jake; “but that don’t sound reasonable.”</p> - -<p>“I know it doesn’t; but I can’t figure out what else it -can be. I found a trail up above Jackknife last spring, -and maybe that had something to do with it. I’ve sure -got to follow that up. The trouble has been that it doesn’t -lead where the stock ever goes, and I haven’t had time -to look into it. Do you think they come up here -regularly?”</p> - -<p>“We got it doped out that it’s always Friday nights. -I see the tracks Saturday mornings, and some of the boys -say they’ve heard ’em along around midnight a couple of -times.”</p> - -<p>“What gates do they go out by?”</p> - -<p>“They use all four of ’em at different times.”</p> - -<p>“H-m! Padlock all the gates to-morrow. This is -Thursday. Then we’ll see what happens.”</p> - -<p>They did see, for on the following Saturday, when -Custer rode fence, he found it cut close by one of the -padlocked gates—the gate that opened into the mouth -of Horse Camp Cañon. Shannon was with him, and she -was much excited at this evidence of mystery so close at -home.</p> - -<p>“What in the world do you suppose they can be doing?” -she asked.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know; but it’s something they shouldn’t be -doing, or they wouldn’t go to so much pains to cover -their tracks. They evidently passed in and out at this -point, but they’ve brushed out their tracks on both sides, -so that you can’t tell which way they went last. Look -here! On both sides of the fence the trail splits. It’s -hard to say which was made first, and where they passed -through the fence. One track must have been on top -of the other, but they’ve brushed it out.”</p> - -<p>He had dismounted, and was on his knees, examining -the spoor beyond the fence.</p> - -<p>“I believe,” he said presently, “that the fresher trail<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span> -is the one going toward the hills, although the other one -is heavier. Here’s a rabbit track that lies on top of -the track of a horse’s hoof pointed toward the valley, -and over here a few yards the same rabbit track is obliterated -by the track of horses and burros coming up -from the valley. The rabbit must have come across -here after they went down, stepping on top of their -tracks, and when they came up again they crossed on -top of his. That’s pretty plain, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; but the tracks going down are much plainer -than those going up. Wouldn’t that indicate that they -were fresher?”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I thought until I saw this evidence introduced -by Brer Rabbit—and it’s conclusive, too. Let’s -look along here a little farther. I have an idea that I -have an idea.”</p> - -<p>“One of Eva’s ‘dapper little ideas,’ perhaps!”</p> - -<p>He bent close above first one trail and then another, -following them down toward the valley. Shannon walked -beside him, leading Baldy. Sometimes, as they knelt -above the evidence imprinted in the dusty soil, their -shoulders touched. The contact thrilled the girl with -sweet delight, and the fact that it left him cold did not -sadden her. She knew that he was not for her. It was -enough that she might be near him and love him. She -did not want him to love her—that would have been the -final tragedy of her life.</p> - -<p>For the most part the trail was obliterated by brush, -which seemed to have been dragged behind the last horse; -but here and there was the imprint of the hoof of a horse, -or, again, of a burro, so that the story that Custer pieced -out was reasonably clear—as far as it went.</p> - -<p>“I think I’ve got a line on it,” he said presently. “Two -men rode along here on horses. One horse was shod, -the other was not. One rider went ahead, the other -brought up the rear, and between them were several -burros. Going down, the burros carried heavy loads; -coming back, they carried nothing.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know all that?” she asked rather incredulously.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t <em>know</em> it, but it seems the most logical deduction -from these tracks. It is easy to tell the horse tracks -from those of the burros, and to tell that there were at -least two horses, because it is plain that a shod horse -and an unshod horse passed along here. That one horse—the -one with shoes—went first is evident from the -fact that you always see the imprints of burro hoofs, or -the hoofs of an unshod horse, or both superimposed on -his. That the other horse brought up the rear is equally -plain from the fact that no other tracks lie on top of his. -Now, if you will look close, and compare several of these -horse tracks, you will notice that there is little or no difference -in the appearance of those leading into the valley -and those leading out; but you can see that the burro -tracks leading down are more deeply imprinted than -those leading up. To me that means that those burros -carried heavy loads down and came back light. How -does it sound?”</p> - -<p>“It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “It is all that I can -do to see that anything has been along here.”</p> - -<p>“It’s not wonderful,” he replied. “An experienced -tracker would tell you how many horses there were, -how many burros, how many hours had elapsed since -they came down out of the hills, how many since they -returned, and the names of the grandmothers of both -riders.”</p> - -<p>Shannon laughed.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad you’re not an experienced tracker, then,” she -said, “for now I can believe what you have told me. -And I still think it very wonderful, and very delightful, -too, to be able to read stories—true stories—in the -trampled dust where men and animals have passed.”</p> - -<p>“There is nothing very remarkable about it. Just look -at the Apache’s hoofprints, for instance. See how the -hind differ from the fore.”</p> - -<p>Custer pointed to them as he spoke, calling attention<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> -to the fact that the Apache’s hind shoes were squared off -at the toe.</p> - -<p>“And now compare them with Baldy’s,” he said. “See -how different the two hoofprints are. Once you know -them, you could never confuse one with the other. But -the part of the story that would interest me most I can’t -read—who they are, what they were packing out of the -hills on these burros, where they came from, and where -they went. Let’s follow down and see where they went -in the valley. The trail must pass right by the Evanses’ -hay barn.”</p> - -<p>The Evanses’ hay barn! A great light illuminated -Shannon’s memory. Allen had said, that last night at -the bungalow, that the contraband whisky was hauled -away on a truck, that it was concealed beneath hay, and -that a young man named Evans handled it.</p> - -<p>What was she to do? She dared not reveal this knowledge -to Custer, because she could not explain how she -came into possession of it. Nor, for the same reason, -could she warn Guy Evans, had she thought that necessary—which -she was sure it was not, since Custer would -not expose him. She concluded that all she could do -was to let events take their own course.</p> - -<p>She followed Custer as he traced the partially obliterated -tracks through a field of barley stubble. A hundred -yards west of the hay barn the trail entered a -macadam road at right angles, and there it disappeared. -There was no telling whether the little caravan had -turned east or west, for it left no spoor upon the hard -surface of the paved road.</p> - -<p>“Well, <em>Watson</em>!” said Custer, turning to her with a -grin. “What do you make of this?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing? <em>Watson</em>, I am surprised. Neither do I.” -He turned his horse back toward the cut fence. “There’s -no use looking any farther in this direction. I don’t -know that it’s even worth while following the trail back -into the hills, for the chances are that they have it well<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> -covered. What I’ll do is to lay for them next Friday -night. Maybe they’re not up to any mischief, but it -looks suspicious; and if they are, I’d rather catch them -here with the goods than follow them up into the hills, -where about all I’d accomplish would probably be to -warn them that they were being watched. I’m sorry now -I had those gates locked, for it will have put them on -their guard. We’ll just fix up this fence, and then we’ll -ride about and take all the locks off.”</p> - -<p>On the way home, an hour later, he asked Shannon not -to say anything about their discovery or his plan to -watch for the mysterious pack train the following -Friday.</p> - -<p>“It would only excite the folks needlessly,” he explained. -“The chances are that there’ll be some simple -explanation when I meet up with these people. As I -told Jake, they may be greasers who work all the week -and come up here at night for firewood. Still more likely, -it’s people who don’t know they can get permission to -gather deadwood for the asking, and think they are stealing -it. Putting themselves to a lot of trouble for nothing, -I’ll say!”</p> - -<p>“You’ll not wait for them alone?” she asked, for she -knew what he did not—that they were probably unscrupulous -rascals who would not hesitate to commit any -crime if they thought themselves in danger of discovery.</p> - -<p>“Why not?” he asked. “I only want to ask them what -they are doing on Ganado, and why they cut our fence.”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t!” she begged. “You don’t know who -they are or what they have been doing. They might be -very desperate men, for all we know.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” he agreed. “I’ll take Jake with me.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you get Guy to go along, too?” she suggested, -for she knew that he would be safer if Guy -knew of his intention, since then there would be little -likelihood of his meeting the men.</p> - -<p>“No,” he replied. “Guy would have to have a big -camp fire, an easy chair, and a package of cigarettes if he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> -was going to sit up that late out in the hills. Jake’s the -best for that sort of work.”</p> - -<p>“Guy isn’t a bit like you, is he?” she asked. “He’s -lived right here and led the same sort of life, and yet he -doesn’t seem to be a part of it, as you are.”</p> - -<p>“Guy’s a dreamer, and he likes to be comfortable all -the time,” laughed Custer. “They’re all that way a little. -Mr. Evans was, so father says. He died while we were -all kids. Mrs. Evans likes to take it easy, too, and even -Grace wasn’t much on roughing it, though she could stand -more than the others. None of them seemed to take to -it the way you do. I never saw any one else but a -Pennington such a glutton for a saddle and the outdoors -as you are. I don’t like ’em any the less for it,” he -hastened to add. “It’s just the way people are, I guess. -The taste for such things is inherited. The Evanses, up -to this generation, all came from the city; the Penningtons -all from the country. Father thinks that horsemen, -if not the descendants of a distinct race, at least spring -from some common ancestors who inhabited great plains -and were the original stock raisers of the human race. -He thinks they mingled with the hill and mountain people, -who also became horsemen through them; but that the -forest tribes and the maritime races were separate and -distinct. It was the last who built the cities, which the -horsemen came in from the plains and conquered.”</p> - -<p>“But perhaps Guy would like the adventure of it,” -she insisted. “It might give him material for a story. I’m -going to ask him.”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t. The less said about it the better, for -if it’s talked about it may get to the men I want to -catch. Word travels fast in the country. Just as we -don’t know who these men are or what they are doing, -neither do we know but what some of them may be -on friendly terms with our employees, or the Evanses, or -yours.”</p> - -<p>The girl made no reply.</p> - -<p>“You won’t mention it to him, please?” Custer insisted.</p> - -<p>“Not if you don’t wish it,” she said.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span></p> - -<p>They were silent for a time, each absorbed in his or -her own thoughts. The girl was seeking to formulate -some plan that would prevent a meeting between Custer -and Allen’s confederates, who she was sure were the -owners of the mysterious pack train; while the man indulged -in futile conjectures as to their identity and the -purpose of their nocturnal expeditions.</p> - -<p>“That trail above Jackknife Cañon is the key to the -whole business,” he declared presently. “I’ll just lay low -until after next Friday night, so as not to arouse their -suspicions, and then, no matter what I find out, I’ll ride -that trail to its finish, if it takes me clear to the ocean!”</p> - -<p>They had reached the fork in the road, one branch of -which led down to Shannon’s bungalow, the other to the -Ganado saddle-horse stables.</p> - -<p>“I thought you were coming up to lunch,” said Custer, -as Shannon reined her horse into the west road.</p> - -<p>“Not to-day,” she said. “I’ll come to dinner, if I may, -though.”</p> - -<p>“We all miss you when you’re not there,” he said.</p> - -<p>“How nice! Now I’ll surely come.”</p> - -<p>“And this afternoon—will you ride with me again?”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to be very busy this afternoon,” she replied.</p> - -<p>His face dropped, and then, almost immediately, he -laughed.</p> - -<p>“I hadn’t realized how much of your time I have been -demanding. Why, you ride with me every day, and now -when you want an afternoon off I start moping. I’m -afraid you’ve spoiled me; but you mustn’t let me be a -nuisance.”</p> - -<p>“I ride with you because I like to,” she replied. “I -should miss our rides terribly if anything should occur -to prevent them.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s hope nothing will prevent them. I’m afraid I’d -be lost without you now, Shannon. You can never know -what it has meant to me to have you here. I was sort -of going to pot after Grace left—blue and discouraged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span> -and discontented; and I was drinking too much. I don’t -mind telling you, because I know you’ll understand—you -seem to understand everything. Having you to ride with -and talk to pulled me together. I owe you a lot, so don’t -let me impose on your friendship and your patience. Any -time you want an afternoon off,” he concluded, laughing, -“don’t be afraid to ask for it—I’ll see that you get it -with full pay!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t <em>want</em> any afternoons off, because I enjoy the -rides as much as you, and they have meant even more to -me. I intend to see that nothing prevents them, if I can.”</p> - -<p>She was touched and pleased with Custer’s sudden -burst of confidence, and thankful for whatever had betrayed -him into one of those rare revelations of his heart. -She wanted to be necessary to him, in the sweet and unemotional -way of friendship, so that they might be together -without embarrassment or constraint.</p> - -<p>They had been standing at the fork, talking, and now, -as she started Baldy again in the direction of her own -place, Custer reined the Apache to accompany her.</p> - -<p>“You needn’t come down with me,” she said. “It’s -nearly lunch time now, and it would only make you late.”</p> - -<p>“But I want to.”</p> - -<p>“No!” She shook her head. “You go right home.”</p> - -<p>“Please!”</p> - -<p>“This is my afternoon off,” she reminded him, “and -I’d really rather you wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p>“All right! I’ll drive down in the car early, and we’ll -have a swim before dinner.”</p> - -<p>“Not too early—I’ll telephone you when I’m ready. -Good-by!”</p> - -<p>He waved his hat as she cantered off, and then sat the -Apache for a moment, watching her. How well she rode! -What grace and ease in every motion of that supple body! -He shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Some girl, Shannon!” he mused aloud as he wheeled -the Apache and rode toward the stables.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Shannon Burke</span> did not ride to her home after she -left Custer. She turned toward the west at the road -above the Evans place, continued on to the mouth of -Horse Camp Cañon, and entered the hills. For two miles -she followed the cañon trail to El Camino Largo, and -there, turning to the left, she followed this other trail -east to Sycamore Cañon. Whatever her mission, it was -evident that she did not wish it known to others. Had -she not wished to conceal it, she might have ridden directly -up Sycamore Cañon from Ganado with a saving of -several miles.</p> - -<p>Crossing Sycamore, she climbed the low hills skirting -its eastern side. There was no trail here, and the brush -was thick and oftentimes so dense that she was forced -to make numerous detours to find a way upward; but -at last she rode out upon the western rim of the basin -meadow above Jackknife. Thence she picked her way -down to more level ground, and, putting spurs to Baldy, -galloped east, her eyes constantly scanning the ground just -ahead of her.</p> - -<p>Presently she found what she sought—a trail running -north and south across the basin. She turned Baldy into -it, and headed him south toward the mountains. She was -nervous and inwardly terrified, and a dozen times she -would have turned back had she not been urged on by a -power infinitely more potent than self-interest.</p> - -<p>Personally, she had all to lose by the venture and naught -to gain. The element of physical danger she knew to be -far from inconsiderable, while it appalled her to contemplate -the after effects, in the not inconceivable contingency -of the discovery of her act by the Penningtons.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span> -Yet she urged Baldy steadily onward, though she felt -her flesh creep as the trail entered a narrow barranco at -the southern extremity of the meadow and wound upward -through dense chaparral, which shut off her range -of vision in all directions for more than a few feet.</p> - -<p>At the upper end of the barranco the trail turned back -and ascended a steep hillside, running diagonally upward -through heavy brush—without which, she realized, the -trail would have appeared an almost impossible one, since -it clung to a nearly perpendicular cliff. The brush lent -a suggestion of safety that was more apparent than real, -and at the same time it hid the sheer descent below.</p> - -<p>Baldy, digging his toes into the loose earth, scrambled -upward, stepping over gnarled roots and an occasional -bowlder, and finding, almost miraculously, the least precarious -footing. There were times when the girl shut -her eyes tightly and sat with tensed muscles, her knees -pressing her horse’s sides until her muscles ached. At -last the doughty Morgan topped the summit of the hogback, -and Shannon drew a deep breath of relief—which -was alloyed, however, by the realization that in returning -she must ride down this frightful trail, which now, as -if by magic, disappeared.</p> - -<p>The hogback was water-washed and gravel-strewn, and -as hard-baked beneath the summer’s sun as a macadam -road. To Shannon’s unaccustomed eyes it gave no clew -as to the direction of the trail. She rode up and down -in both directions until finally she discovered what appeared -to be a trail leading downward into another barranco -upon the opposite side of the ridge. The descent -seemed less terrifying than that which she had just negotiated, -and as it was the only indication of a trail that -she could find, she determined to investigate it.</p> - -<p>Baldy, descending carefully, suddenly paused and with -uppricked ears emitted a shrill neigh. So sudden and so -startling was the sound that Shannon’s heart all but -stood still, gripped by the cold fingers of terror. And -then from below came an answering neigh.</p> - -<p>She had found what she sought, but the fear that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> -rode her all but sent her panic-stricken in retreat. It was -only the fact that she could not turn Baldy upon that -narrow trail that gave her sufficient pause to gain mastery -over the chaos of her nerves and drive them again into -the fold of reason. It required a supreme effort of will -to urge her horse onward again, down into that -mysterious ravine, where she knew there might lurk for -her a thing more terrible than death. That she did it -bespoke the greatness of the love that inspired her -courage.</p> - -<p>The ravine below her was both shallower and wider -than that upon the opposite side of the ridge, so that it -presented the appearance of a tiny basin. From her -vantage point she looked out across the tops of spreading -oaks to the brush-covered hillside that bounded the basin -on the south; but what lay below, what the greenery of -the trees concealed from her sight, she could only surmise.</p> - -<p>She knew that the Penningtons kept no horses here, so -she guessed that the animal that had answered Baldy’s -neigh belonged to the men she sought. Slowly she rode -downward. What would her reception be? If her conclusions -as to the identity of the men camped below were -correct, she could imagine them shooting first and investigating -later. The idea was not a pleasant one, but -nothing could deter her now.</p> - -<p>After what seemed a long time she rode out among -splendid old oaks, in view of a soiled tent and a picket -line where three horses and a half dozen burros were -tethered. Nowhere was there sign of the actual presence -of men, yet she had an uncanny feeling that they were -there, and that from some place of concealment they -were watching her.</p> - -<p>She sat quietly upon her horse for a moment, waiting. -Then, no one appearing, she called aloud.</p> - -<p>“Hello, there! I want to speak with you.”</p> - -<p>Her voice sounded strange and uncanny in her ears.</p> - -<p>For what seemed a long time there was no other sound<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span> -than the gently moving leaves about her, the birds, and -the heavy breathing of Baldy. Then, from the brush -behind her, came another voice. It came from the direction -of the trail down which she had ridden. She -realized that she must have passed within a few feet of -the man who now spoke.</p> - -<p>“What do you want?”</p> - -<p>“I have come to warn you. You are being watched.”</p> - -<p>“You mean you are not alone? There are others with -you? Then tell them to go away, for we have our rifles. -We have done nothing. We’re tending our bees—they’re -just below the ridge above our camp.”</p> - -<p>“There is no one with me. I do not mean that others -are watching you now, but that others know that you -come down out of the hills with something each Friday -night, and they want to find out what it is you bring.”</p> - -<p>There was a rustling in the brush behind her, and she -turned to see a man emerge, carrying a rifle ready in his -hands. He was a Mexican, swarthy and ill-favored, his -face pitted by smallpox.</p> - -<p>Almost immediately two other men stepped from the -brush at other points about the camp. The three walked -to where Shannon sat upon her mount. All were armed, -and all were Mexicans.</p> - -<p>“What do you know about what we bring out of the -hills? Should we not bring our honey out?” asked the -pock-marked one.</p> - -<p>“I know what you bring out,” she said. “I am not -going to expose you. I am here to warn you.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“I know Allen.”</p> - -<p>Immediately their attitude changed.</p> - -<p>“You have seen Allen? You bring a message from -him?”</p> - -<p>“I have not seen him. I bring no message from him; -but for reasons of my own I have come to warn you not -to bring down another load next Friday night.”</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">The</span> pock-marked Mexican stepped close to Shannon -and took hold of her bridle reins.</p> - -<p>“You think,” he said in broken English, “we are damn -fool? If you do not come from Allen, you come for -no good to us. You tell us the truth, damn quick, or you -never go back to tell where you find us and bring policemen -here!”</p> - -<p>His tone was ugly and his manner threatening.</p> - -<p>There was no harm in telling these men the truth, -though it was doubtful whether they would believe her. -She realized that she was in a predicament from which -it might not be easy to extricate herself. She had told -them that she was alone, and if they suspected her motives -they might easily do away with her. She knew -how lightly the criminal Mexican esteems life—especially -the life of the hated gringo.</p> - -<p>“I have come to warn you because a friend of mine is -going to watch for you next Friday night. He does not -know who you are, or what you bring out of the hills. -I do, and so I know that rather than be caught you -might kill him, and I do not want him killed. That is all.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know what we bring out of the hills?”</p> - -<p>“Allen told me.”</p> - -<p>“Allen told you? I do not believe you. Do you know -where Allen is?”</p> - -<p>“He is in jail in Los Angeles. I heard him telling a -man in Los Angeles last July.”</p> - -<p>“Who is the friend of yours that is going to watch for -us?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Pennington.”</p> - -<p>“You have told him about us?”</p> - -<p>“I have told you that he knows nothing about you.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span> -All he knows is that some one comes down with burros -from the hills, and that they cut his fence last Friday -night. He wants to catch you and find out what you are -doing.”</p> - -<p>“Why have you not told him?”</p> - -<p>She hesitated.</p> - -<p>“That can make no difference,” she said presently.</p> - -<p>“It makes a difference to us. I told you to tell the -truth, <span class="locked">or——”</span></p> - -<p>The Mexican raised his rifle that she might guess the -rest.</p> - -<p>“I did not want to have to explain how I knew about -you. I did not want Mr. Pennington to know that I knew -such men as Allen.”</p> - -<p>“How did you know Allen?”</p> - -<p>“That has nothing to do with it at all. I have warned -you so that you can take steps to avoid discovery and -capture. I shall tell no one else about you. Now let me -go.”</p> - -<p>She gathered Baldy and tried to rein him about, but -the man clung to her bridle.</p> - -<p>“Not so much of a hurry, <i xml:lang="es" lang="es">señorita</i>! Unless I know -how Allen told you so much, I cannot believe that he told -you anything. The police have many ways of learning -things—sometimes they use women. If you are a friend -to Allen, all right. It you are not, you know too damn -much for to be very good for your health. You had -better tell me all the truth, or you shall not ride away -from here—ever!”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” she said. “I met Allen in a house in -Hollywood where he sold his ‘snow,’ and I heard him -telling the man there how you disposed of the whisky -that was stolen in New York, brought here to the coast -in a ship, and hidden in the mountains.”</p> - -<p>“What is the name of the man in whose house you -met Allen?”</p> - -<p>“Crumb.”</p> - -<p>The man raised his heavy brows.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span></p> - -<p>“How long since you been there—in that house in -Hollywood?”</p> - -<p>“Not since the last of July. I left the house the -same time Allen did.”</p> - -<p>“You know how Allen he get in jail?” the Mexican -asked.</p> - -<p>The girl saw that a new suspicion had been aroused -in the man, and she judged that the safer plan was to -be perfectly frank.</p> - -<p>“I do not know, for I have seen neither Crumb nor -Allen since; but when I read in the paper that he had -been arrested that night, I guessed that Crumb had done -it. I heard Crumb ask him to deliver some snow to a -man in Hollywood. I know that Crumb is a bad man, -and that he was trying to steal your share of the money -from Allen.”</p> - -<p>The man thought in silence for several minutes, the -lines of his heavy face evidencing the travail with which -some new idea was being born. Presently he looked -up, the light of cunning gleaming in his evil eyes.</p> - -<p>“You go now,” he said. “I know you! Allen tell -me about you a long time ago. You Crumb’s woman, -and your name is Gaza. You will not tell anything about -us to your rich friends the Penningtons—you bet you -won’t!”</p> - -<p>The Mexican laughed loudly, winking at his -companions.</p> - -<p>Shannon could feel the burning flush that suffused her -face. She closed her eyes in what was almost physical -pain, so terrible did the humiliation torture her pride, -and then came the nausea of disgust. The man had -dropped her reins, and she wheeled Baldy about.</p> - -<p>“You will not come Friday night?” she asked, wishing -some assurance that her sacrifice had not been entirely -unavailing.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Pennington will not find us Friday night, and -so he will not be shot.”</p> - -<p>She rode away then; but there was a vague suspicion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span> -lurking in her mind that there had been a double meaning -in the man’s final words.</p> - -<p>Custer Pennington, occupied in the office for a couple -of hours after lunch, had just come from the house, and -was standing on the brow of the hill looking out over -the ranch toward the mountains. His gaze, wandering -idly at first, was suddenly riveted upon a tiny speck -moving downward from the mouth of a distant ravine—a -moving speck which he recognized, even at that distance, -to be a horseman, where no horseman should have been. -For a moment he watched it, and then, returning to the -house, he brought out a pair of binoculars.</p> - -<p>Now the speck had disappeared; but he knew that it -was down in the bottom of the basin, hidden by the ridge -above Jackknife Cañon, and he waited for the time when -it would reappear on the crest. For five, ten, fifteen -minutes he watched the spot where the rider should -come into view once more. Then he saw a movement in -the brush and leveled his glasses upon the spot, following -the half seen figure until it emerged into a space clear -of chaparral. Now they were clearly revealed by the -powerful lenses, the horse and its rider—Baldy and -Shannon!</p> - -<p>Pennington dropped the glasses at his side, a puzzled -expression on his face, as he tried to find some explanation -of the fact that the binoculars had revealed. From -time to time he caught glimpses of her again as she rode -down the cañon; but when, after a considerable time, she -did not emerge upon the road leading to the house, he -guessed that she had crossed over El Camino Corto. Why -she should do this he could not even conjecture. It was -entirely out of her way, and a hilly trail, while the other -was a wagon road leading almost directly from Sycamore -to her house.</p> - -<p>Presently he walked around the house to the north -side of the hill, where he had a view of the valley spreading -to the east and the west and the north. Toward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span> -the west he could see the road that ran above the Evanses’ -house all the way to Horse Camp Cañon.</p> - -<p>He did not know why he stood there watching for -Shannon. It was none of his affair where she rode, or -when. It seemed strange, though, that she should have -ridden alone into the hills after having refused to ride -with him. It surprised him, and troubled him, too, for -it was the first suggestion that Shannon could commit -even the most trivial act of underhandedness.</p> - -<p>After a while he saw her emerge from Horse Camp -Cañon and follow the road to her own place. Custer -ran his fingers through his hair in perplexity. He was -troubled not only because Shannon had ridden without -him, after telling him that she could not ride that afternoon, -but also because of the direction in which she -had ridden—the trail of which he had told her that he -thought it led to the solution of the mystery of the nocturnal -traffic. He had told her that he would not ride it -before Saturday, for fear of arousing the suspicions of -the men he wished to surprise in whatever activity they -might be engaged upon; and within a few hours she -had ridden deliberately up into the mountains on that -very trail.</p> - -<p>The more Custer considered the matter, the more perplexed -he became. At last he gave it up in sheer disgust. -Doubtless Shannon would tell him all about it -when he called for her later in the afternoon. He tried -to forget it; but the thing would not be forgotten.</p> - -<p>Several times he realized, with surprise, that he was -hurt because she had ridden without him. He tried to -argue that he was not hurt, that it made no difference -to him, that she had a perfect right to ride with or without -him as she saw fit, and that he did not care a straw -one way or the other.</p> - -<p>No, it was not that that was troubling him—it was -something else. He didn’t know what it was, but a drink -would straighten it out; so he took a drink. He realized -that it was the first he had had in a week, and almost<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span> -decided not to take it; but he changed his mind. After -that he took several more without bothering his conscience -to any appreciable extent. When his conscience -showed signs of life, he reasoned it back to innocuous -desuetude by that unanswerable argument:</p> - -<p>“What’s the use?”</p> - -<p>By the time he left to call for Shannon he was miserably -happy and happily miserable; yet he showed no -outward sign that he had been drinking, unless it was -that he swung the roadster around the curves of the -driveway leading down the hill a bit more rapidly than -usual.</p> - -<p>Shannon was ready and waiting for him. She came -out to the car with a smile—a smile that hid a sad and -frightened heart; and he greeted her with another that -equally belied his inward feelings. As they rode up to -the castle on the hill, he gave her every opportunity to -mention and explain her ride, principally by long silences, -though never by any outward indication that he thought -she had aught to explain. If she did not care to have -him know about it, she should never know from him that -he already knew; but the canker of suspicion was already -gnawing at his heart, and he was realizing, perhaps for -the first time, how very desirable this new friendship -had grown to be.</p> - -<p>Again and again he insisted to himself that what she -had done made no difference—that she must have had -some excellent reason. Perhaps she had just wanted -to be alone. He often had experienced a similar longing. -Even when Grace had been there, he had occasionally -wanted to ride off into the hills with nothing but his own -thoughts for company.</p> - -<p>Yet, argue as he would, the fact remained that it had -made a difference, and that he was considering Shannon -now in a new light. Just what the change meant he probably -could not have satisfactorily explained, had he tried; -but he did not try. He knew that there was a difference, -and that his heart ached when it should not ache. It made<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span> -him angry with himself, with the result that he went to his -room and had another drink.</p> - -<p>Shannon, too, felt the difference. She thought that it -was her own guilty conscience, though why she should -feel guilt for having risked so much for his sake she did -not know. Instinctively she was honest, and so to deceive -one whom she loved, even for a good purpose, troubled -her.</p> - -<p>Something else troubled her, too. She knew that Custer -had been drinking again, and she recalled what he had said -to her, that morning, of the help she had been to him in -getting away from his habit. She knew too well herself -what it meant to fight for freedom from a settled vice, -and she had been glad to have been instrumental in aiding -him. She had had to fight her own battle alone; she did -not want him to face a similar ordeal.</p> - -<p>She wondered why he had been drinking that afternoon. -Could it have been because she had not been able to ride -with him, and thus left alone he had reverted to the old -habit? The girl reproached herself, even though she felt, -after her interview with the Mexicans, that she had undoubtedly -saved Custer’s life.</p> - -<p>The Evanses, mother and son, were also at the Penningtons’ -for dinner that night. Shannon had noticed that -it was with decreasing frequency that Grace’s name was -mentioned of late. She knew the reason. Letters had -become fewer and fewer from the absent girl. She had -practically ceased writing to Custer. Her letters to Mrs. -Evans were no longer read to the Penningtons, for there -had crept into them a new and unpleasant note that was as -foreign as possible to the girl who had gone away months -before. They showed a certain carelessness and lack of -consideration that had pained them all.</p> - -<p>They always asked after the absent girl, but her present -life and her career were no longer discussed, since the -subject brought nothing but sorrow to them all. That she -had been disappointed and disillusioned seemed probable, -since she had obtained only a few minor parts in mediocre<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> -pictures; and now she no longer mentioned her ambition, -and scarcely ever wrote of her work.</p> - -<p>At dinner that night Eva was unusually quiet until the -colonel, noticing it, asked if she was ill.</p> - -<p>“There!” she cried. “You all make life miserable for -me because I talk too much, and then, when I give you a -rest, you ask if I am ill. What shall I do? If I talk, -I pain you. If I fail to talk, I pain you; but if you must -know, I am too thrilled to talk just now—I am going to be -married!”</p> - -<p>“All alone?” inquired Custer.</p> - -<p>A sickly purplish hue, threatening crimson complications, -crept from beneath Guy’s collar and enveloped -his entire head. He reached for his water goblet and ran -the handle of his fork up his sleeve. The ensuing disentanglement -added nothing to his equanimity, though it all -but overturned the goblet. Custer was eying him with a -seraphic expression that boded ill.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, Guy—measles?” he asked with a -beatific smile.</p> - -<p>Guy grinned sheepishly, and was about to venture an -explanation when Eva interrupted him. The others at the -table were watching the two with amused smiles.</p> - -<p>“You see, momsy,” said Eva, addressing her mother, -“Guy has sold a story. He got a thousand dollars for it—a -thousand!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not a thousand!” expostulated Guy.</p> - -<p>“Well, it was nearly a thousand—if it had been three -hundred dollars more it would have been—and so now -that our future is assured we are going to be married. I -hadn’t intended to mention it until Guy had talked with -popsy, but this will be very much nicer, and easier for -Guy.”</p> - -<p>Guy looked up appealingly at the colonel.</p> - -<p>“You see, sir, I was summing to key you—I mean I -<span class="locked">was——”</span></p> - -<p>“You see what it is going to mean to have an author -in the family,” said Custer. “He’s going to talk away<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span> -above our heads. We won’t know what he’s talking about -half the time. I don’t know. Do you, Guy?”</p> - -<p>“For pity’s sake, Custer, leave the boy alone!” laughed -Mrs. Pennington. “You’re enough to rattle a stone image. -And now, Guy, you know you don’t have to feel embarrassed. -We have all grown accustomed to the idea -that you and Eva would marry, so it is no surprise. It -makes us very happy.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Pennington,” said the boy. “It -wasn’t that it was hard to tell you. It was the way Eva -wanted me to do it—like a book. I was supposed to come -and ask the colonel for her hand in a very formal manner, -and it made me feel foolish, the more I thought of it—and -I have been thinking about it all day. So, you see, -when Eva blurted it out, I thought of my silly speech -and <span class="locked">I——”</span></p> - -<p>“It wasn’t a silly speech,” interrupted Eva. “It was -simplimetic gorgeristic. You thought so yourself when -you made <em>Bruce Bellinghame</em> ask <em>Hortense’s</em> father for -her. ‘<em>Mr. Le Claire</em>,’ he said, squaring his manly shoulders, -‘it is with emotions of deepest solemnity and a full -realization of my unworthiness that I approach you upon -this beautiful day in May——’”</p> - -<p>“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Eva, <em>please</em>!” begged Guy.</p> - -<p>They were all laughing now, including Eva and Guy. -The tears were rolling down Custer’s cheeks.</p> - -<p>“That editor was guilty of grand larceny when he -offered you seven hundred berries for the story. Why, -the gem alone is easily worth a thousand. Adieu, Mark -Twain! Farewell, Bill Nye! You’ve got ’em all nailed -to the post, Guy Thackeray!”</p> - -<p>The colonel wiped his eyes.</p> - -<p>“I gather,” he said, “that you two children wish to get -married. Do I surmise correctly?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, popsy, you’re just wonderful!” exclaimed Eva.</p> - -<p>“Yes, how did you guess it, father?” asked Custer. -“Marvelous deductive faculties for an old gentleman, -I’ll say!”</p> - -<p>“That will be about all from you, Custer,” admonished<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span> -the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Any time that I let a chance like this slip!” returned -young Pennington. “Do you think I have forgotten how -those two imps pestered the life out of Grace and me -a few short years ago? Nay, nay!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t blame Custer a bit,” said Mrs. Evans. “Guy -and Eva certainly did make life miserable for him and -Grace.”</p> - -<p>“That part of it is all right—it is Guy’s affair and -Eva’s; but did you hear him refer to me as an old gentleman?”</p> - -<p>They all laughed.</p> - -<p>“But you <em>are</em> a gentleman,” insisted Custer.</p> - -<p>The colonel, his eyes twinkling, turned to Mrs. Evans.</p> - -<p>“Times have changed, Mae, since we were children. -Imagine speaking thus to our fathers!”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad they have changed, Custer. It’s terrible to -see children afraid of their parents. It has driven so -many of them away from home.”</p> - -<p>“No danger of that here,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>“It is more likely to be the other way around,” suggested -Mrs. Pennington. “In the future we may hear -of parents leaving home because of the exacting tyranny -of their children.”</p> - -<p>“My children shall be brought up properly,” announced -Eva, “with proper respect for their elders.”</p> - -<p>“Guided by the shining example of their mother,” -said Custer.</p> - -<p>“And their Uncle Cutie,” she retorted.</p> - -<p>“Come, now,” interrupted the colonel, “let’s hear something -about your plans. When are you going to be -married?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” offered Custer. “Now that the seven hundred -dollars has assured their future, there is no reason why -they shouldn’t be married at once and take a suite at the -Ambassador. I understand they’re as low as thirty-five -hundred a month.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, I have more than the seven hundred,” said Guy.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span> -“I’ve been saving up for a long time. We’ll have plenty -to start with.”</p> - -<p>Shannon noticed that he flushed just a little as he -made the statement, and she alone knew why he flushed. -It was too bad that Custer’s little sister should start her -married life on money of that sort!</p> - -<p>Shannon felt that at heart Guy was a good boy—that -he must have been led into this traffic originally without -any adequate realization of its criminality. Her own misfortune -had made her generously ready to seek excuses -for wrong-doing in others; but she dreaded to think what -it was going to mean to Eva and the other Penningtons if -ever the truth became known. From her knowledge of -the sort of men with whom Guy was involved, she was -inclined to believe that the menace of exposure or blackmail -would hang over him for many years, even if the -former did not materialize in the near future; for she -was confident that if his confederates were discovered -by the authorities, they would immediately involve him, -and would try to put the full burden of responsibility -upon his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want the financial end of matrimony to worry -either of you,” the colonel was saying. “Guy has chosen -a profession in which it may require years of effort to -produce substantial returns. All I shall ask of my -daughter’s husband is that he shall honestly apply himself -to his work. If you do your best, Guy, you will -succeed, and in the meantime I’ll take care of the -finances.”</p> - -<p>“But we don’t want it that way,” said Eva. “We don’t -want to live on charity.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think that what I give to my little girl would -be given in a spirit of charity?” the colonel asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, popsy, I know you wouldn’t feel that it was; -but can’t you see how Guy would feel? I want him to be -independent. I’d rather get along with a little, and feel -that he had earned it all.”</p> - -<p>“It may take a long time, Eva,” said Custer; “and in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span> -the meantime the best part of your lives would be spent -in worry and scrimping. I know how you feel; but -there’s a way around it that has the backing of established -business methods. Let father finance Guy’s writing -ability, just as inventive genius is sometimes financed. -When Guy succeeds, he can pay back with interest.”</p> - -<p>“What a dapper little thought!” exclaimed the girl. -“That would fix everything, wouldn’t it? You radiant -man!”</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">On</span> the following Monday a pock-marked Mexican -appeared at the county jail in Los Angeles, during visitors’ -hours, and asked to be permitted to see Slick Allen. -The two stood in a corner and conversed in whispers. -Allen’s face wore an ugly scowl when his visitor told -him of young Pennington’s interference with their plans.</p> - -<p>“It’s getting too hot for us around there,” said Allen. -“We got to move. How much junk you got left?”</p> - -<p>“About sixty cases of booze. We got rid of nearly -three hundred cases on the coast side, without sending -’em through Evans. There isn’t much of the other junk -left—a couple pounds altogether, at the outside.”</p> - -<p>“We got to lose the last of the booze,” said Allen; -“but we’ll get our money’s worth out of it. Now you -listen, and listen careful, Bartolo.”</p> - -<p>He proceeded very carefully and explicitly to explain -the details of a plan which brought a grin of sinister -amusement to the face of the Mexican. It was not an -entirely new plan, but rather an elaboration and improvement -of one that Allen had conceived some time before -in the event of a contingency similar to that which had -now arisen.</p> - -<p>“And what about the girl?” asked Bartolo. “She -should pay well to keep the Penningtons from knowing.”</p> - -<p>“Leave her to me,” replied Allen. “I shall not be in -jail forever.”</p> - -<p>During the ensuing days of that late September week, -when Shannon and Custer rode together, there was a -certain constraint in their relations that was new and -depressing. The girl was apprehensive of the outcome -of his adventure on the rapidly approaching Friday,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -while he could not rid himself of the haunting memory -of her solitary and clandestine ride over the mysterious -trail that led into the mountains.</p> - -<p>It troubled him that she should have kept the thing -a secret, and it troubled him that he should care. What -difference could it make to him where Shannon Burke -rode? He asked himself that question a hundred times; -but though he always answered that it could make no -difference, he knew perfectly well that it <em>had</em> made a -difference.</p> - -<p>He often found himself studying her face, as if he -would find there either an answer to his question, or a -refutation of the suspicion of trickery and deceit which -had arisen in his mind and would not down. What a -beautiful face it was—not despite its irregular features, -but because of them, and because of the character and -individuality they imparted to her appearance. Custer -could not look upon that face and doubt her.</p> - -<p>Several times she caught him in the act of scrutinizing -her thus, and she wondered at it, for in the past he had -never appeared to be consciously studying her. She was -aware, too, that he was troubled about something. She -wished that she might ask him—that she might invite -his confidence, for she knew the pain of unshared sorrows; -but he gave her no opening. So they rode together, -often in silence; and though their stirrups touched -many a time, yet constantly they rode farther and farther -apart, just because chance had brought Custer Pennington -from the office that Saturday afternoon to look out over -the southern hills at the moment when Shannon had -ridden down the trail into the meadow above Jackknife -Cañon.</p> - -<p>At last Friday came. Neither had reverted, since the -previous Saturday, to the subject that was uppermost -in the mind of each; but now Shannon could not refrain -from seeking once more to deter Custer from his project. -She had not been able to forget the sinister smile of the -Mexican, or to rid her mind of an intuitive conviction<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span> -that the man’s final statement had concealed a hidden -threat.</p> - -<p>They were parting at the fork of the road—she had -hesitated until the last moment.</p> - -<p>“You still intend to try to catch those men to-night?” -she asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes—why?”</p> - -<p>“I had hoped you would give it up. I am afraid -something may happen. I—oh, please don’t go, Custer!” -She wished that she might add: “For my sake.”</p> - -<p>He laughed shortly.</p> - -<p>“I guess there won’t be any trouble. If there is, I -can take care of myself.”</p> - -<p>She saw that it was useless to insist further.</p> - -<p>“Let me know if everything is all right,” she asked. -“Light the light in the big cupola on the house when you -get back—I can see it from my bedroom window—and -then I shall know that nothing has happened. I shall -be watching for it.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” Custer promised, and they parted.</p> - -<p>He wondered why she should be so perturbed about -his plans for the night. There was something peculiar -about that—something that he couldn’t understand or -explain, except in accordance with a single hypothesis—a -hypothesis which he scorned to consider, yet which rode -his thoughts like a veritable <em>Little Old Man of the Sea</em>. -Had he known the truth, it would all have been quite -understandable; but how was he to know that Shannon -Burke loved him?</p> - -<p>When he reached the house, the ranch bookkeeper came -to tell him that the Los Angeles operator had been trying -to get him all afternoon.</p> - -<p>“Somebody in L. A. wants to talk to you on important -business,” said the bookkeeper. “You’re to call back the -minute you get here.”</p> - -<p>Five minutes later he had his connection. An unfamiliar -voice asked if he were the younger Mr. Pennington.</p> - -<p>“I am,” he replied.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span></p> - -<p>“Some one cut your fence last Friday. You like to -know who he is?”</p> - -<p>“What about it? Who are you?”</p> - -<p>“Never mind who I am. I was with them. They -double-crossed me. You want to catch ’em?”</p> - -<p>“I want to know who they are, and why they cut my -fence, and what the devil they’re up to back there in the -hills.”</p> - -<p>“You listen to me. You <i xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">sabe</i> Jackknife Cañon?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“To-night they bring down the load just before dark. -They do that every Friday, and hide the burros until -very late. Then they come down into the valley while -every one is asleep. To-night they hide ’em in Jackknife. -They tie ’em there an’ go away. About ten o’clock they -come back. You be there nine o’clock, and you catch ’em -when they come back. <i xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">Sabe?</i>”</p> - -<p>“How many of ’em are there?”</p> - -<p>“Only two. You don’t have to be afraid—they don’t -pack no guns. You take gun an’ you catch ’em all alone.”</p> - -<p>“But how do I know that you’re not stringing me?”</p> - -<p>“You listen. They double-cross me. I get even. You -no want to catch ’em, I no care—that’s all. Good-by!”</p> - -<p>Custer turned away from the phone, running his fingers -through his hair in a characteristic gesture signifying -perplexity. What should he do? The message sounded -rather fishy, he thought; but it would do no harm to -have a look into Jackknife Cañon around nine o’clock. -If he was being tricked, the worst he could fear was that -they had taken this method of luring him to Jackknife -while they brought the loaded burros down from the -hills by some other route. If they had done that, it was -very clever of them; but he would not be fooled a second -time.</p> - -<p>Custer Pennington didn’t care to be laughed at, and so, -if he was going to be hoaxed that night, he had no intention -of having a witness to his idiocy. For that reason<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span> -he did not take Jake with him, but rode alone up Sycamore -when all the inmates of the castle on the hill thought -him in bed and asleep. It was a clear night. Objects -were plainly discernible at short distances, and when he -passed the horse pasture he saw the dim bulks of the -brood mares a hundred yards away. A coyote voiced its -uncanny cry from a near hill. An owl hooted dismally -from a distance; but these sounds, rather than depressing -him, had the opposite effect, for they were of the -voices of the nights that he had known and loved since -childhood.</p> - -<p>When he turned into Jackknife, he reined the Apache -in and sat for a moment listening. From farther up the -cañon, out of sight, there came the shadow of a sound. -That would be the tethered burros, he thought, if the -whole thing was not a trick; but he was certain that he -heard the sound of something moving there.</p> - -<p>He rode on again, but he took the precaution of loosening -his gun in its holster. There was, of course, the bare -possibility of a sinister motive behind the message he -had received. As he thought of it now, it occurred to -him that his informant was perhaps a trifle too insistent -in assuring him that it was safe to come up here alone. -Well, the man had put it over cleverly, if that had been -his intent.</p> - -<p>Now Custer saw a dark mass beneath a sycamore. He -rode directly toward it, and in another moment he saw -that it represented half a dozen laden burros tethered to -the tree. He moved the Apache close in to examine them. -There was no sign of men about.</p> - -<p>He examined the packs, leaning over and feeling one. -What they contained he could not guess; but it was not -firewood. They evidently consisted of six wooden boxes -to each burro, three on a side.</p> - -<p>He reined the Apache in behind the burros in the darkness -of the tree’s shade, and there he waited for the -coming of the men. He did not like the look of things -at all. What could those boxes contain? There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -was no legitimate traffic through or out of those hills -that could explain the weekly trip of this little pack -train; and if the men in charge of it were employed -in any illegitimate traffic, they would not be surrendering -to a lone man as meekly as his informant had -suggested. The days of smuggling through the hills -from the ocean was over—or at least Custer had thought -it was over; but this thing commenced to look like a -recrudescence of the old-time commerce.</p> - -<p>As he sat there waiting, he had ample time to think. -He speculated upon the identity and purpose of the -mysterious informant who had called him up from Los -Angeles. He speculated again upon the contents of the -packs. He recalled the whisky that Guy had sold him -from time to time, and wondered if the packs might not -contain liquor. He had gathered from Guy that his -supply came from Los Angeles, and he had never given -the matter a second thought; but now he recalled the -fact, and concluded that if this was whisky, it was not -from the same source as Guy’s.</p> - -<p>All the time he kept thinking of Shannon and her mysterious -excursion into the hills. He recalled her anxiety -to prevent him from coming up here to-night, and he -tried to find reasonable explanations for it. Of course, -it was the obvious explanation that did not occur to him; -but several did occur that he tried to put from his -mind.</p> - -<p>Then from the mouth of Jackknife he heard the sound -of horses’ hoofs. The Apache pricked up his ears, and -Custer leaned forward and laid a hand upon his nostrils.</p> - -<p>“Quiet, boy!” he admonished, in a low whisper.</p> - -<p>The sounds approached slowly, halting occasionally. -Presently two horsemen rode directly past him on the -far side of the cañon. They rode at a brisk trot. Apparently -they did not see the pack train, or, if they saw -it, they paid no attention to it. They disappeared in -the darkness, and the sound of their horses’ hoofs -ceased. Pennington knew that they had halted. Who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span> -could they be? Certainly not the drivers of the pack -train, else they would have stopped with the burros.</p> - -<p>He listened intently. Presently he heard horses walking -slowly toward him from up the cañon. The two who -had passed were coming back—stealthily.</p> - -<p>“I sure have got myself in a pretty trap!” he soliloquized -a moment later, when he heard the movement of -mounted men in the cañon below him.</p> - -<p>He drew his gun and sat waiting. It was not long -that he had to wait. A voice coming from a short distance -down the cañon addressed him.</p> - -<p>“Ride out into the open and hold up your hands!” it -said. “We got you surrounded and covered. If you -make a break, we’ll bore you. Come on, now, step -lively—and keep your hands up!”</p> - -<p>It was the voice of an American.</p> - -<p>“Who in thunder are you?” demanded Pennington.</p> - -<p>“I am a United States marshal,” was the quick reply.</p> - -<p>Pennington laughed. There was something convincing -in the very tone of the man’s voice—possibly because -Custer had been expecting to meet Mexicans. Here was -a hoax indeed; but evidently as much on the newcomers -as on himself. They had expected to find a lawbreaker. -They would doubtless be angry when they discovered -that they had been duped.</p> - -<p>Custer rode slowly out from beneath the tree.</p> - -<p>“Hold up your hands, Mr. Pennington!” snapped the -marshal.</p> - -<p>Custer Pennington was nonplused. They knew who -he was, and yet they demanded that he should hold up -his hands like a common criminal.</p> - -<p>“Hold on there!” he cried. “What’s the joke? If -you know who I am, what do you want me to hold up my -hands for? How do I know you’re a marshal?”</p> - -<p>“You don’t know it; but I know that you’re armed, -and that you’re in a mighty bad hole. I don’t know -what you might do, and I ain’t taking no chances. So -stick ’em up, and do it quick. If anybody’s going to get<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span> -bored around here it’ll be you, and not none of my men!”</p> - -<p>“You’re a damned fool,” said Pennington succinctly; -but he held his hands before his shoulders, as he had been -directed.</p> - -<p>Five men rode from the shadows and surrounded him. -One of them dismounted and disarmed him. He lowered -his hands and looked about at them.</p> - -<p>“Would you mind,” he said, “showing me your authority -for this, and telling me what in hell it’s all about?”</p> - -<p>One of the men threw back his coat, revealing a silver -shield.</p> - -<p>“That’s my authority,” he said; “that, and the goods -we got on you.”</p> - -<p>“What goods?”</p> - -<p>“Well, we expect to get ’em when we examine those -packs.”</p> - -<p>“Look here!” said Custer. “You’re all wrong. I have -nothing to do with that pack train or what it’s packing. -I came up here to catch the fellows who have been bringing -it down through Ganado every Friday night, and -who cut our fence last week. I don’t know any more -about what’s in those packs than you do—evidently not -as much.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, Mr. Pennington. You’ll probably -get a chance to tell all that to a jury. We been laying for -you since last spring. We didn’t know it was you until -one of your gang squealed; but we knew that this stuff -was somewhere in the hills above L. A., and we aimed -to get it and you sooner or later.”</p> - -<p>“Me?”</p> - -<p>“Well, not you particularly, but whoever was bootlegging -it. To tell you the truth, I’m plumb surprised to -find who it is. I thought all along it was some gang of -cheap greasers; but it don’t make no difference who it -is to your Uncle Sam.”</p> - -<p>“You say some one told you it was I?” asked Custer.</p> - -<p>“Sure! How else would we know it? It don’t pay to -double-cross your pals, Mr. Pennington.”</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do with me?” he asked.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span></p> - -<p>“We’re going to take you back to L. A. and get you -held to the Federal grand jury.”</p> - -<p>“To-night?”</p> - -<p>“We’re going to take you back to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Can I stop at the house first?”</p> - -<p>“No. We got a warrant to search the place, and we’re -going to leave a couple of my men here to do it the first -thing in the morning. I got an idea you ain’t the only -one around there that knows something about this -business.”</p> - -<p>As they talked, one of the deputies had taken a case -from a pack and opened it.</p> - -<p>“Look here!” he called. “It’s it, all right!”</p> - -<p>“It’s what?” asked Custer.</p> - -<p>“Oh, pe-ru-na, of course!” replied the deputy facetiously. -“What did you think it was? I hope you never -thought it none of that hootch stolen from a government -bonded warehouse in New York!”</p> - -<p>The others laughed at his joke.</p> - -<p>“It’s too bad,” said the marshal, not at all unkindly, -“for a decent young fellow like you to get mixed up in -a nasty business like this.”</p> - -<p>“I agree with you,” said Pennington.</p> - -<p>His mind traveled like lightning, flashing a picture of -Shannon Burke riding out of the hills and across the -meadow above Jackknife Cañon; of her inquiry that very -afternoon as to whether he was coming up here to-night. -Had she really wished to dissuade him, or had she only -desired to make sure of his intentions? The light would -not shine from the big cupola to-night. What message -would the darkness carry to Shannon Burke?</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">They</span> took Custer down to the village of Ganado, -where they had left their cars and obtained horses. Here -they left the animals, including the Apache, with instructions -that he should be returned to the Rancho del Ganado -in the morning.</p> - -<p>The inhabitants of the village, almost to a man, had -grown up in neighborly friendship with the Penningtons. -When he from whom the officers had obtained their -mounts discovered the identity of the prisoner, his surprise -was exceeded only by his anger.</p> - -<p>“If I’d known who you was after,” he said, “you’d never -have got no horses from me. I’d ’a’ hamstrung ’em first! -I’ve known Cus Pennington since he was knee high to -a grasshopper, and whatever you took him for he never -done it. Wait till the colonel hears of this. You won’t -have no more job than a jack rabbit!”</p> - -<p>The marshal turned threateningly toward the speaker.</p> - -<p>“Shut up!” he advised. “If Colonel Pennington hears -of this before morning, you’ll wish to God you was a -jack rabbit, and could get out of the country in two -jumps! Now you get what I’m telling you—you’re to -keep your trap closed until morning. Hear me?”</p> - -<p>“I ain’t deaf, but sometimes I’m a leetle mite dumb.” -The last he added in a low aside to Pennington, accompanying -it with a wink; and aloud: “I’m mighty sorry, -Cus—<em>mighty</em> sorry. If I’d only knowed it was you! By -gosh, I’ll never get over this—furnishin’ horses to help -arrest a friend, and a Pennington!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry about that for a minute, Jim. I haven’t -done anything. It’s just a big mistake.”</p> - -<p>The officers and their prisoner were in the car ready -to start. The marshal pointed a finger at Jim.</p> - -<p>“Don’t forget what I told you about keeping your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span> -mouth shut until morning,” he admonished.</p> - -<p>They drove off toward Los Angeles. Jim watched -them for a moment, as the red tail light diminished in -the distance. Then he turned into the office of his feed -barn and took the telephone receiver from its hook. -“Gimme Ganado No. 1,” he said to the sleepy night -operator.</p> - -<p>It was five minutes before continuous ringing brought -the colonel to the extension telephone in his bedroom. -He seemed unable to comprehend the meaning of what -Jim was trying to tell him, so sure was he that Custer -was in bed and asleep in a near-by room; but at last he -was half convinced, for he had known Jim for many -years, and well knew his stability and his friendship.</p> - -<p>“If it was anybody but you, Jim, I’d say you were a -damned liar,” he commented in characteristic manner; -“but what in hell did they take the boy for?”</p> - -<p>“They wouldn’t say. Just as I told ’em. I don’t -know what he done, but I know he never done it.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right, Jim—my boy couldn’t do a crooked -thing!”</p> - -<p>“I’m just like you, colonel—I know there ain’t a -crooked hair in Cus Pennington’s head. If there’s anything -I can do, colonel, you jest let me know.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll bring the Apache up in the morning? Thank -you again, Jim, and good-by.”</p> - -<p>He hung up the receiver. While he dressed hastily, -he explained to his wife the purport of the message he -had just received.</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do, Custer?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to Los Angeles, Julia. Unless that marshal’s -driving a racing car, I’ll be waiting for him when -he gets there!”</p> - -<p>Shortly before breakfast the following morning two -officers, armed with a warrant, searched the castle on -the hill. In Custer Pennington’s closet they found something -which seemed to fill them with elation—two full<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span> -bottles of whisky and an empty bottle, each bearing a -label identical with those on the bottles they had found -in the cases borne by the burros. With this evidence -and the laden pack train, they started off toward the -village.</p> - -<p>Shannon Burke had put in an almost sleepless night. -For hours she had lain watching the black silhouette of -the big cupola against the clear sky, waiting for the light -which would announce that Custer had returned home in -safety; but no light had shone to relieve her anxiety. She -had strained her ears through the long hours of the -night for the sound of shooting from the hills; but only -the howling of coyotes and the hooting of owls had disturbed -the long silence. She sought to assure herself -that all was well—that Custer had returned and forgotten -to switch on the cupola light—that he had not -forgotten, but that the bulb was burned out. She manufactured -probable and improbable explanations by the -score; but always a disturbing premonition of evil dispersed -the cohorts of hope.</p> - -<p>She was up early in the morning, and in the saddle -at the first streak of dawn, riding directly to the stables -of the Rancho del Ganado. The stableman was there, -saddling the horses while they fed.</p> - -<p>“No one has come down yet?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“The Apache’s gone,” he replied. “I don’t understand -it. He hasn’t been in his box all night. I was just -thinkin’ of goin’ up to the house to see if Custer was -there. Don’t seem likely he’d be ridin’ all night, does it?”</p> - -<p>“No,” she said. Her heart was in her mouth. She -could scarcely speak. “I’ll ride up for you,” she managed -to say.</p> - -<p>Wheeling Baldy, she put him up the steep hill to the -house. The iron gate that closed the patio arch at night -was still down, so she rode around to the north side of -the house and <em>coo-hooed</em> to attract the attention of some -one within. Mrs. Pennington, followed by Eva, came to -the door. Both were fully dressed. When they saw<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span> -who it was, they came out and told Shannon what had -happened.</p> - -<p>He was not injured, then. The sudden sense of relief -left her weak, and for a moment she did not consider the -other danger that confronted him. He was safe! That -was all she cared about just then. Later she commenced -to realize the gravity of his situation, and the innocent -part that she had taken in involving him in the toils of -the scheme which her interference must have suggested -to those actually responsible for the traffic in stolen liquor, -the guilt of which they had now cleverly shifted to the -shoulders of an innocent man. Intuitively she guessed -Slick Allen’s part in the unhappy contretemps of the -previous night; for she knew of the threats he had made -against Custer Pennington, and of his complicity in the -criminal operations of the bootleggers.</p> - -<p>How much she knew! More than any other, she knew -all the details of the whole tragic affair. She alone could -untangle the knotted web, and yet she dared not until there -was no other way. She dared not let them guess that she -knew more of the matter than they. She could not admit -such knowledge without revealing the source of it -and exposing herself to the merited contempt of these -people whose high regard had become her obsession, -whose friendship was her sole happiness, and the love -she had conceived for one of them the secret altar at -which she worshiped.</p> - -<p>In the last extremity, if there was no alternative, she -would sacrifice everything for him. To that her love -committed her; but she would wait until there was no -other way. She had suffered so grievously through no -fault of her own that she clung with desperation to the -brief happiness which had come into her life, and which -was now threatened, once again because of no wrong-doing -on her part.</p> - -<p>Fate had been consistently unkind to her. Was it -fair that she should suffer always for the wickedness of -another? She had at least the right to hope and wait.</p> - -<p>But there was something that she could do. When<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> -she turned Baldy down the hill from the Penningtons’, -she took the road home that led past the Evanses’ ranch, -and, turning in, dismounted and tied Baldy at the fence. -Her knock was answered by Mrs. Evans.</p> - -<p>“Is Guy here?” asked Shannon.</p> - -<p>Hearing her voice, Guy came from his room, drawing -on his coat.</p> - -<p>“You’re getting as bad as the Penningtons,” he said, -laughing. “They have no respect for Christian hours!”</p> - -<p>“Something has happened,” she said, “that I thought -you should know about. Custer was arrested last night -by government officers and taken to Los Angeles. He -was out on the Apache at the time. No one seems to -know where he was arrested, or why; but the supposition -is that they found him in the hills, for the man who runs -the feed barn in the village—Jim—told the colonel that -the officers got horses from him and rode up toward -the ranch, and that it was a couple of hours later that -they brought Custer back on the Apache. The stableman -just told me that the Apache had not been in his stall all -night, and I know—Custer told me not to tell, but it -will make no difference now—that he was going up into -the hills last night to try to catch the men who have been -bringing down loads on burros every Friday night for -a long time, and who cut his fence last Friday.”</p> - -<p>She looked straight into Guy’s eyes as she spoke; but -he dropped his as a flush mounted his cheek.</p> - -<p>“I thought,” she continued, “that Guy might want to -go to Los Angeles and see if he could help Custer in -any way. The colonel went last night.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go now,” said Guy. “I guess I can help him.”</p> - -<p>His voice was suddenly weary, and he turned away with -an air of dejection which assured Shannon that he intended -to do the only honorable thing that he could do—assume -the guilt that had been thrown upon Custer’s -shoulders, no matter what the consequences to himself. -She had had little doubt that Guy would do this, for she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -realized his affection for Custer, as well as the impulsive -generosity of his nature, which, however marred by weakness, -was still fine by instinct.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later, after a hasty breakfast, young -Evans started for Los Angeles, while his mother and -Shannon, standing on the porch of the bungalow, waved -their good-bys as his roadster swung through the gate -into the county road. Mrs. Evans had only a vague idea -as to what her son could do to assist Custer Pennington -out of his difficulty; but Shannon Burke knew that Pennington’s -fate lay in the hands of Guy Evans, unless she -chose to tell what she knew.</p> - -<p>Colonel Pennington had overtaken the marshal’s car before -the latter reached Los Angeles, but after a brief parley -on the road he had discovered that he could do nothing -to alter the officer’s determination to place Custer in the -county jail pending his preliminary hearing before a -United States commissioner. Neither the colonel’s plea -that his son should be allowed to accompany him to a -hotel for the night, nor his assurance that he would be -personally responsible for the young man’s appearance -before the commissioner on the following morning, -availed to move the obdurate marshal from his stand; -nor would he permit the colonel to talk with the prisoner.</p> - -<p>This was the last straw. Colonel Pennington had managed -to dissemble outward indications of his rising ire, -but now an amused smile lighted his son’s face as he -realized that his father was upon the verge of an explosion. -He caught the older man’s eye and shook his head.</p> - -<p>“It’ll only make it worse,” he cautioned.</p> - -<p>The colonel directed a parting glare at the marshal, -muttered something about homeopathic intellects, and -turned back to his roadster.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">During</span> the long ride to Los Angeles, and later in his -cell in the county jail, Custer Pennington had devoted -many hours to seeking an explanation of the motives -underlying the plan to involve him in a crime of which -he had no knowledge, nor even a suspicion of the identity -of its instigators. To his knowledge, he had no enemies -whose hostility was sufficiently active to lead them to -do him so great a wrong. He had had no trouble with -any one recently, other than his altercation with Slick -Allen several months before; yet it was obvious that he -had been deliberately sacrificed for some ulterior purpose. -What that purpose was he could only surmise.</p> - -<p>The most logical explanation, he finally decided, was -that those actually responsible, realizing that discovery -was imminent, had sought to divert suspicion from themselves -by fastening it upon another. That they had -selected him as the victim might easily be explained on -the ground that his embarrassing interest in their movements -had already centered their attention upon him, -while it also offered the opportunity for luring him into -the trap without arousing his suspicions.</p> - -<p>It was, then, just a combination of circumstances that -had led him into his present predicament; but there still -remained unanswered one question that affected his -peace of mind more considerably than all the others combined. -Who had divulged to the thieves his plans for the -previous night?</p> - -<p>Concurrently with that question there arose before his -mind’s eye a picture of Shannon Burke and Baldy as -they topped the summit above Jackknife from the trail -that led across the basin meadow back into the hills, he -knew not where.</p> - -<p>“I can’t believe that it was she,” he told himself for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span> -hundredth time. “She could not have done it. I won’t -believe it! She could explain it all if I could ask her; -but I can’t ask her. There is a great deal that I cannot -understand, and the most inexplicable thing is that she -could possibly have had any connection whatever with the -affair.”</p> - -<p>When his father came with an attorney, in the morning, -the son made no mention of Shannon Burke’s ride -into the hills, or of her anxiety, when they parted in the -afternoon, to learn if he was going to carry out his -plan for Friday night.</p> - -<p>“Did any one know of your intention to watch for -these men?” asked the attorney.</p> - -<p>“No one,” he replied; “but they might have become -suspicious from the fact that the week before I had -all the gates padlocked on Friday. They had to cut the -fence that night to get through. They probably figured -that it was getting too hot for them, and that on the following -Friday I would take some other steps to discover -them. Then they made sure of it by sending me that -message from Los Angeles. Gee, but I bit like a sucker!”</p> - -<p>“It is unfortunate,” remarked the attorney, “that you -had not discussed your plans with some one before you -undertook to carry them out on Friday night. If we -could thus definitely establish your motive for going alone -into the hills, and to the very spot where you were discovered -with the pack train, I think it would go much -further toward convincing the court that you were there -without any criminal intent than your own unsupported -testimony to that effect!”</p> - -<p>“But haven’t you his word for it?” demanded the -colonel.</p> - -<p>“I am not the court,” replied the attorney, smiling.</p> - -<p>“Well, if the court isn’t a damned fool it’ll know he -wouldn’t have padlocked the gates the week before to -keep himself out,” stated the colonel conclusively.</p> - -<p>“The government might easily assume that he did that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -purposely to divert suspicion from himself. At least, -it is no proof of innocence.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Pennington snorted.</p> - -<p>“The best thing to do now,” said the attorney, “is to -see if we can get an immediate hearing, and arrange for -bail in case he is held to the grand jury.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go with you,” said the colonel.</p> - -<p>They had been gone but a short time when Guy Evans -was admitted to Custer’s cell. The latter looked up and -smiled when he saw who his visitor was.</p> - -<p>“It was bully of you to come,” he said. “Bringing -condolences, or looking for material, old thing?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t joke, Cus,” exclaimed Evans. “It’s too rotten -to joke about, and it’s all my fault.”</p> - -<p>“Your fault?”</p> - -<p>“I am the guilty one. I’ve come down to give myself -up.”</p> - -<p>“Guilty! Give yourself up! What are you talking -about?”</p> - -<p>“God, Cus, I hate to tell you. It didn’t seem such an -awful thing to do until this happened. Every one’s buying -booze, or selling booze, or making booze. Every one’s -breaking the damned old Eighteenth Amendment, and -it’s got so it don’t seem like committing a crime, or anything -like that. You know, Cus, that I wouldn’t do anything -criminal, and, oh, God, what’ll Eva think?”</p> - -<p>Guy covered his face with his hands and choked back -a sob.</p> - -<p>“Just what the devil are you talking about?” inquired -Pennington. “Do you mean to tell me that you have -been mixed up in—well, what do you know about that?” -A sudden light had dawned upon Custer’s understanding. -“That hootch that you’ve been getting me—that I joked -you about—it was really the stuff that was stolen from a -bonded warehouse in New York? It wasn’t any joke -at all?”</p> - -<p>“You can see for yourself now how much of a joke it -was,” replied Evans.</p> - -<p>“I’ll admit,” returned Custer ruefully, “that it does<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -require considerable of a sense of humor to see it in this -joint!”</p> - -<p>“What do you suppose they’ll do to me?” asked Guy. -“Do you suppose they’ll send me to the penitentiary?”</p> - -<p>“Tell me the whole thing from the beginning—who -got you into it, and just what you’ve done. Don’t omit -a thing, no matter how much it incriminates you. I don’t -need to tell you, old man, that I’m for you, no matter what -you’ve done.”</p> - -<p>“I know that, Cus; but I’m afraid no one can help -me. I’m in for it. I knew it was stolen from the start. -I have been selling it since last May—seven thousand -seven hundred and seventy-six quarts of it—and I made -a dollar on every quart. It was what I was going to -start housekeeping on. Poor little Eva!” Again a sob -half choked him. “It was Slick Allen that started me. -First he sold me some; then he got me to sell you a bottle, -and bring him the money. Then he had me, or at least -he made me think so; and he insisted on my handling it -for them out in the valley. It wasn’t hard to persuade -me, for it looked safe, and it didn’t seem like such a rotten -thing to do, and I wanted the money the worst way. -I know they’re all bum excuses. I shan’t make any excuses—I’ll -take my medicine; but it’s when I think of -Eva that it hurts. It’s only Eva that counts!”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Pennington, laying his hand affectionately -on the other’s shoulder. “It is only Eva who counts; and -because of Eva, and because you and I love her so much, -you cannot go to the penitentiary.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean—cannot go?”</p> - -<p>“Have you told any one else what you have just told -me?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t. Go back home, and keep your mouth shut,” -said Custer.</p> - -<p>“You mean that you will take a chance of going up -for what I did? Nothing doing! Do you suppose I’d let<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -you, Cus, the best friend I’ve got in the world, go to the -pen for me—for something I did?”</p> - -<p>“It’s not for you, Guy. I wouldn’t go to the pen for -you or any other man; but I’d go to the pen for Eva, and -so would you.”</p> - -<p>“I know it, but I can’t let you do it. I’m not rotten, -Cus!”</p> - -<p>“You and I don’t count. To see her unhappy and -humiliated would be worse for me than spending a few -years in the penitentiary. I’m innocent. No matter if -I am convicted, I’ll know I’m innocent, and Eva’ll know -it, and so will all the rest at Ganado; but, Guy, they’ve got -too much on you if they ever suspect you, and the fact -that you voluntarily admitted your guilt would convince -even my little sister. If you were sent up it might ruin -her life—it <em>would</em> ruin it. Things could never be the -same for her again; but if I was sentenced for a few -years, it would only be the separation from a brother -whom she knew to be innocent, and in whom she still -had undiminished confidence. She wouldn’t be humiliated—her -life wouldn’t be ruined; and when I came -back everything would be just as it was before. -If you go, things will not be the same when you -come back—they can never be the same again. You cannot -go!”</p> - -<p>“I cannot let you go, and be punished for what I did, -while I remain free!”</p> - -<p>“You’ve got to—it’s the easiest way. We’ve all got -to be punished for what you did—those who love us are -always punished for our sins; but let me tell you that I -don’t think you are going to escape punishment if I go up -for this. You’re going to suffer more than I. You’re -going to suffer more than you would if you went up -yourself; but it can’t be helped. The question is, are you -man enough to do this for Eva? It is your sacrifice -more than mine.”</p> - -<p>Evans swallowed hard and tried to speak. It was a -moment before he succeeded.</p> - -<p>“My God, Cus, I’d rather go myself!”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span></p> - -<p>“I know you would.”</p> - -<p>“I can never have any self-respect again. I can never -look a decent man in the face. Every time I see Eva, or -your mother, or the colonel, I’ll think: ‘You dirty cur, -you let their boy go to the pen for something you did!’ -Oh, Cus, please don’t ask me to do it! There must be -some other way. And—and, Cus, think of Grace. We’ve -been forgetting Grace. What’ll it mean to Grace if you -are sent up?”</p> - -<p>“It won’t mean anything to Grace, and you know it. -None of us mean much to Grace any more.”</p> - -<p>Guy looked out of the little barred window, and tears -came to his eyes.</p> - -<p>“I guess you’re right,” he said.</p> - -<p>“You’re going to do it, Guy—for Eva?”</p> - -<p>“For Eva—yes.”</p> - -<p>Pennington brightened up as if a great load had been -lifted from his shoulders.</p> - -<p>“Good!” he cried. “Now the chances are that I’ll not -be sent up, for they’ve nothing on me—they can’t have; -but if I am, you’ve got to take my place with the folks. -You’ve had your lesson. I know you’ll never pull another -fool stunt like this again. And quit drinking, Guy. I -haven’t much excuse for preaching; but you’re the sort -that can’t do it. Leave it alone. Good-by, now; I’d -rather you were not here when father comes back—you -might weaken.”</p> - -<p>Evans took the other’s hand.</p> - -<p>“I envy you, Cus—on the level, I do!”</p> - -<p>“I know it; but don’t feel too bad about it. It’s one -of those things that’s done, and it can’t be undone. -Roosevelt would have called what you’ve got to do -‘grasping the nettle.’ Grasp it like a man!”</p> - -<p>Evans walked slowly from the jail, entered his car, -and drove away. Of the two hearts his was the heavier; -of the two burdens his the more difficult to bear.</p> - -<p>Custer Pennington, appearing before a United States<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span> -commissioner that afternoon for his preliminary hearing, -was held to the Federal grand jury, and admitted to bail. -The evidence brought by the deputies who had searched -the Pennington home, taken in connection with the circumstances -surrounding his arrest, seemed to leave the -commissioner no alternative. Even the colonel had to -admit that to himself, though he would never have admitted -it to another. The case would probably come up -before the grand jury on the following Wednesday.</p> - -<p>The colonel wanted to employ detectives at once to -ferret out those actually responsible for the theft and -bootlegging of the stolen whisky; but Custer managed -to persuade him not to do so, on the ground that it would -be a waste of time and money, since the government -was already engaged upon a similar pursuit.</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry, father,” he said. “They haven’t a shred -of evidence that I stole the whisky, or that I ever sold -any. They found me with it—that is all. I can’t be -hanged for that. Let them do the worrying. I want to -get home in time to eat one of Hannah’s dinners. I’ll say -they don’t set much of a table in the sheriff’s boarding -house!”</p> - -<p>“Where did you get the three bottles they found in -your room?”</p> - -<p>“I bought them.”</p> - -<p>“I asked where, not how.”</p> - -<p>“I might get some one else mixed up in this if I were -to answer that question. I can’t do it.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said the colonel, “you can’t. When you buy -whisky, nowadays, you are usually compounding a felony. -It’s certainly a rotten condition to obtain in the land of -the free; but you’ve got to protect your accomplices. I -shall not ask you again; but they’ll ask you in court, my -boy.”</p> - -<p>“All the good it’ll do them!”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so; but I’d hate to see my boy sent to the -penitentiary.”</p> - -<p>“You’d hate to be in court and hear him divulge the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span> -name of a man who had trusted him sufficiently to sell -him whisky.”</p> - -<p>“I’d rather see you go to the penitentiary!” the colonel -said.</p> - -<p>That night, at dinner, Custer made light of the charge -against him, yet at the same time he prepared them for -what might happen, for the proceedings before the commissioner -had impressed him with the gravity of his case, -as had also the talk he had had with his attorney afterward.</p> - -<p>“No matter what happens,” he said to them all, “I shall -know that you know I am not guilty.”</p> - -<p>“My boy’s word is all I need,” replied his mother.</p> - -<p>Eva came and put her arms about him.</p> - -<p>“They wouldn’t send you to jail, would they?” she -demanded. “It would break my heart!”</p> - -<p>“Not if you knew I was innocent.”</p> - -<p>“N-no, not then, I suppose; but it would be awful. If -you were guilty, it would kill me. I’d never want to live -if my brother was convicted of a crime, and was guilty -of it. I’d kill myself first!”</p> - -<p>Her brother drew her face down and kissed her tenderly.</p> - -<p>“That would be foolish, dear,” he said. “No matter -what one of us does, such an act would make it all the -worse—for those who were left.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t help it,” she said. “It isn’t just because I -have had the honor of the Penningtons preached to -me all my life. It’s because it’s in me—the Pennington -honor. It’s a part of me, just as it’s a part of you, and -mother, and father. It’s a part of the price we have to -pay for being Penningtons. I have always been proud -of it, Custer, even if I am only a silly girl.”</p> - -<p>“I’m proud of it, too, and I haven’t jeopardized it; but -even if I had, you mustn’t think about killing yourself on -my account, or any one’s else.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I know you’re not guilty, so I don’t have to.”</p> - -<p>“Good! Let’s talk about something pleasant.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you see Grace while you were in Los<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -Angeles?”</p> - -<p>“I tried to. I called up her boarding place from the -lawyer’s office. I understood the woman who answered -the phone to say that she would call her, but she came -back in a couple of minutes and said that Grace was -out on location.”</p> - -<p>“Did you leave your name?”</p> - -<p>“I told the woman who I was when she answered the -phone.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry you didn’t see her,” said Mrs. Pennington. -“I often think that Mrs. Evans, or Guy, should run down -to Los Angeles occasionally and see Grace.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what Shannon says,” said Custer. “I’ll try to -see her next week, before I come home.”</p> - -<p>“Shannon was up nearly all afternoon waiting to hear -if we received any word from you. When you telephoned -that you had been held to the Federal grand jury, she -would scarcely believe it. She said there must be some -mistake.”</p> - -<p>“Did she say anything else?”</p> - -<p>“She asked whether Guy got there before you were held -and I told her that you said Guy visited you in the jail. -She seems so worried about the affair—just as if she -were one of the family. She is such a dear girl! I think -I grow to love her more and more every day.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Custer, non-committally.</p> - -<p>“She asked me one rather peculiar question,” Eva -went on.</p> - -<p>“What was that?”</p> - -<p>“She asked if I was <em>sure</em> that it was <em>you</em> who had -been held to the grand jury.”</p> - -<p>“That was odd, wasn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“She’s so sure of your innocence—just as sure as we -are,” said Eva.</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s very nice of her,” remarked Custer.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">The</span> next morning he saw Shannon, who came to ride -with them, the Penningtons, as had been her custom. She -looked tired, as if she had spent a sleepless night. She -had—she had spent two sleepless nights, and she had had -to fight the old fight all over again. It had been very -hard, even though she had won, for it had shown her -that the battle was not over. She had thought that she -had conquered the craving; but that had been when she -had had no troubles or unhappiness to worry her mind -and nerves. The last two days had been days of suffering -for her, and the two sleepless nights had induced -a nervous condition that begged for the quieting influence -of the little white powder.</p> - -<p>Custer noticed immediately that something was amiss. -The roses were gone from her cheeks, leaving a suggestion -of the old pallor; and though she smiled and greeted -him happily, he thought that he detected an expression -of wistfulness and pain in her face when she was not -conscious that others were observing her.</p> - -<p>There was a strange suggestion of change in their relations, -which Custer did not attempt to analyze. It was -as if he had been gone a long time, and, returning, had -found Shannon changed through the natural processes -of time and separation. She was not the same girl—she -could never be the same again, nor could their relations -ever be the same.</p> - -<p>The careless freedom of their association, which had -resembled that of a brother and sister more than any -other relationship between a man and a woman, had gone -forever. What had replaced it Custer did not know. -Sometimes he thought that it was a suspicion of Shannon -that clung to his mind in spite of himself, but again and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span> -again he assured himself that he held no suspicion of -her.</p> - -<p>He wished, though, that she would explain that which -was to him inexplicable. He had the faith to believe -that she could explain it satisfactorily; but would she do -so? She had had the opportunity, before this thing had -occurred, and had not taken advantage of it. He would -give her another opportunity that day, and he prayed -that she would avail herself of it. Why he should care -so much, he did not try to reason. He did not even -realize how much he did care.</p> - -<p>Presently he turned toward her.</p> - -<p>“I am going to ride over to the east pasture after breakfast,” -he said, and waited.</p> - -<p>“Is that an invitation?”</p> - -<p>He smiled and nodded.</p> - -<p>“But not if it isn’t perfectly convenient,” he added.</p> - -<p>“I’d love to come with you. You know I always do.”</p> - -<p>“Fine! And you’ll breakfast with us?”</p> - -<p>“Not to-day. I have a couple of letters to write that I -want to get off right away; but I’ll be up between eight -thirty and nine. Is that too late?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll ride down after breakfast and wait for you—if -I won’t be in the way.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you won’t. It will take me only a few -minutes to write my letters.”</p> - -<p>“How are you going to mail them? This is Sunday.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Powers is going to drive in to Los Angeles to-day. -He’ll mail them in the city.”</p> - -<p>“Who looks after things when Mr. and Mrs. Powers -are away?”</p> - -<p>“Who looks after things? Why, I do.”</p> - -<p>“The chickens, and the sow, and Baldy—you take care -of them all?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, and I have more than that now.”</p> - -<p>“How’s that?”</p> - -<p>“Nine little pigs! They came yesterday. They’re -perfect beauties.”</p> - -<p>The man laughed.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span></p> - -<p>“What are you laughing about?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“The idea of you taking care of chickens and pigs and -a horse!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see anything funny about it, and it’s lot of -fun. Did you think I was too stupid?”</p> - -<p>“I was just thinking what a change two months have -made. What would you have done if you’d been left -alone two months ago with a hundred hens, a horse, and -ten pigs to care for?”</p> - -<p>“The question then would have been what the hens, -the horse, and the pigs would have done; but now I -know pretty well what to do. The two letters I have -to write are about the little pigs. I don’t know much -about them, and so I am writing to Berkeley and Washington -for the latest bulletins.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you ask <em>us</em>?”</p> - -<p>“Gracious, but I do! I am forever asking the colonel -questions, and the boys at the hog house must hate to see -me coming. I’ve spent hours in the office, reading Lovejoy -and Colton; but I want something for ready reference. -I’ve an idea that I can raise lots more hogs than I -intended by fencing the orchard and growing alfalfa between -the rows, for pasture. There’s something solid -and substantial about hogs that suggests a bank balance -even in the years when the orange crop may be short or -a failure, or the market poor.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve got the right idea,” said Custer. “There isn’t -a rancher or an orchardist, big or little, in the valley -who couldn’t make more money year in and year out if -he’d keep a few brood sows.”</p> - -<p>“What’s Cus doing?” asked Eva, who had reined back -beside them. “Preaching hog raising again? That’s his -idea of a dapper little way to entertain a girl—hogs, Herefords -and horses! Wouldn’t he make a hit in society? -Regular little tea pointer, I’ll say!”</p> - -<p>“I knew you were about to say something,” remarked -her brother. “You’ve been quiet for all of five minutes.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been thinking,” said Eva. “I’ve been thinking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span> -how lonely it will be when you have to go away to jail.”</p> - -<p>“Why, they can’t send me to jail—I haven’t done anything,” -he tried to reassure her.</p> - -<p>“I’m so afraid, Cus!” The tears came to her eyes. -“I lay awake for hours last night, thinking about it. Oh, -Cus, I just couldn’t stand it if they sent you to jail! -Do you think the men who did it would let you go -for something they did? Could any one be so wicked? -I never hated any one in my life, but I could hate them, -if they don’t come forward and save you. I could <em>hate</em> -them, <em>hate</em> them, <em>hate</em> them! Oh, Cus, I believe that I -could <em>kill</em> the man who would do such a thing to my -brother!”</p> - -<p>“Come, dear, don’t worry about it. The chances are -that they’ll free me. Even if they don’t, you mustn’t -feel quite so bitterly against the men who are responsible. -There may be reasons that you know nothing of that -would keep them silent. Let’s not talk about it. All we -can do now is to wait and see what the grand jury is -going to do. In the meantime I don’t intend to worry.”</p> - -<p>Shannon Burke, her heart heavy with shame and sorrow, -listened as might a condemned man to the reading -of his death sentence. She felt almost the degradation -that might have been hers had she deliberately planned -to ensnare Custer Pennington in the toils that had been -laid for him.</p> - -<p>She determined that she would go before the grand -jury and tell all she knew. Then she would go away. -She would not have to see the contempt and hatred they -must surely feel for her after she had recited the cold -facts that she must lay before the jury, unmitigated by -any of those extenuating truths that must lie forever -hidden in the secret recesses of her soul. They would -know only that she might have warned Custer, and did -not; that she might have cleared him at his preliminary -hearing, and did not. The fact that she had come to his -rescue at the eleventh hour would not excuse her, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span> -their minds, of the guilt of having permitted the Pennington -honor to be placed in jeopardy needlessly; nor could -it explain her knowledge of the crime, or those associations -of her past life that had made it possible for her to -have gained such knowledge.</p> - -<p>No, she could never face them again after the following -Wednesday; but until then she would cling to the -brief days of happiness that remained to her before the -final catastrophe of her life, for it was thus that she -thought of it—the moment and the act that would forever -terminate her intercourse with the Penningtons, that -would turn the respect of the man she loved to loathing.</p> - -<p>She counted the hours before the end. There would be -two more morning rides—to-morrow and Tuesday. -They would ask her to dinner, or to lunch, or to breakfast -several times in the ensuing three days, and there would -be rides with Custer. She would take all the happy -memories that she could into the bleak and sunless future.</p> - -<p>Their ride that morning was over a loved and familiar -trail that led across El Camino Corto over low hills into -Horse Camp Cañon, and up Horse Camp to Coyote -Springs; then over El Camino Largo to Sycamore Cañon -and down beneath the old, old sycamores to the ranch. -She felt that she knew each bush and tree and bowlder, -and they held for her the quiet restfulness of the familiar -faces of old friends. She should miss them, but she -would carry them in her memory forever.</p> - -<p>When they came to the fork in the road, she would not -let Custer ride home with her.</p> - -<p>“At eight thirty, then,” he called to her, as she urged -Baldy into a canter and left them with a gay wave of -the hand that gave no token of the heavy sorrow in her -heart.</p> - -<p>As was her custom, she ate breakfast with Mr. and -Mrs. Powers at the little tenant cottage a couple of hundred -yards in rear of her own bungalow—a practice which -gave her an opportunity to discuss each day’s work in -advance with her foreman, and at the same time to add<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span> -to her store of information concerning matters of ranching -and citrus culture. Her knowledge of these things -had broadened rapidly, and was a constant source of -surprise to Powers, who took great pride in bragging -about it to his friends; for Shannon had won as great -a hold upon the hearts of these two as she had upon -all who were fortunate enough to know her well.</p> - -<p>After breakfast, as she was returning to her bungalow -to write her letters, she saw a Mexican boy on a bicycle -turn in at her gate. They met in front of the bungalow.</p> - -<p>“Are you Miss Burke?” he asked. “Bartolo says for -you to come to his camp in the mountains this morning, -sure,” he went on, having received an affirmative reply.</p> - -<p>“Who is Bartolo?”</p> - -<p>“He says you know. You went to his camp a week -ago yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“Tell him I do not know him and will not go.”</p> - -<p>“He says to tell you that he only wants to talk to -you about your friend who is in trouble.”</p> - -<p>The girl thought for a moment. Possibly here was a -way out of her dilemma. If she could force Bartolo by -threats of exposure, he might discover a way to clear -Custer Pennington without incriminating himself. She -turned to the boy.</p> - -<p>“Tell him I will come.”</p> - -<p>“I do not see him again. He is up in his camp now. -He told me this yesterday. He also told me to tell you -that he would be watching for you, and if you did not -come alone you would not find him.”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” she said, and turned into the bungalow.</p> - -<p>She wrote her letters, but she was not thinking about -them. Then she took them over to Powers to take to the -city for her. After that she went to the telephone and -called the Rancho del Ganado, asking for Custer when -she got the connection.</p> - -<p>“I’m terribly disappointed,” she said, when he came to -the telephone. “I find I simply can’t ride this morning; -but if you’ll put it off until <span class="locked">afternoon——”</span></p> - -<p>“Why, certainly! Come up to lunch and we’ll ride<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span> -afterward,” he told her.</p> - -<p>“You won’t go, then, until afternoon?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I’ll ride over to the east pasture this morning, and -we’ll just take a ride any old place that you want to -go this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” she replied.</p> - -<p>She had hoped that he would not ride that morning. -There was a chance that he might see her, even though -the east pasture was miles from the trail she would ride, -for there were high places on both trails, where a horseman -would be visible for several miles.</p> - -<p>“This noon at lunch, then,” he said.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Half</span> an hour later Custer Pennington swung into the -saddle and headed the Apache up Sycamore Cañon.</p> - -<p>The trail to the east pasture led through Jackknife. As -he passed the spot where he had been arrested on the -previous Friday night, the man made a wry face—more -at the recollection of the ease with which he had been -duped than because of the fact of his arrest. Being free -from any sense of guilt, he could view with a certain -lightness of spirit that was almost levity the mere physical -aspects of possible duress. The reality of his service to -Eva could not but tend to compensate for any sorrow he -must feel because of the suffering his conviction and -imprisonment might bring to his family, so much greater -must be their sorrow should Eva be permitted to learn the -truth.</p> - -<p>When Shannon had broken their engagement for the -morning, he had felt a disappointment entirely out of -proportion to its cause—a thing which he had realized -himself, but had been unable to analyze. Now, in anticipation -of seeing her at noon and riding with her after -lunch, he experienced a rise in spirits that was equally -unaccountable. He liked her very much, and she was -excellent company—which, of course, would account for -the pleasure he derived from being with her. To-day, -too, he hoped for an explanation of her ride into the -mountains the week before, so that there might be no -longer any shadow on his friendship for her.</p> - -<p>The more he thought about it, the more convinced he -was that this afternoon she would explain the whole -matter quite satisfactorily, and presently he found himself -whistling as if there were no such places as jails -or penitentiaries in the whole wide and beautiful world.</p> - -<p>Just then he reached the summit of the trail leading<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span> -out of Jackknife Cañon toward the east pasture. As was -his wont, the Apache stopped to breathe after the hard -climb, and, as seems to be the habit of all horses in like -circumstances, he turned around and faced in the opposite -direction from that in which his rider had been going.</p> - -<p>Below and to Custer’s right the ranch buildings lay -dotted about in the dust like children’s toys upon a gray -rug. Beyond was the castle on the hill, shining in the -sun, and farther still the soft-carpeted valley, in grays and -browns and greens. Then the young man’s glance -wandered to the left and out over the basin meadow, and -instantly the joy died out of his heart and the happiness -from his eyes. Straight along the mysterious trail loped -a horse and rider toward the mountains, and even at that -distance he recognized them as Baldy and Shannon.</p> - -<p>The force of the shock was almost equivalent to an -unexpected blow in the face. What could it mean? He -recalled her questions. She had deliberately sought to -learn his plans, as she had that other day, and then, -as before, she had hastened off to some mysterious rendezvous -in the hills.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a hot wave of anger surged through him. -Quiet and self-controlled as he usually was, there were -times when the Pennington temper seized and dominated -him so completely that he himself was appalled by the -acts it precipitated. Under its spell a Pennington might -commit murder. Now Custer did what was almost as -foreign to his nature—he cursed the girl who rode on, -unconscious of his burning eyes upon her, toward the -mountains. He cursed her aloud, searching his memory -for opprobrious epithets and anathemas to hurl after -her.</p> - -<p>This was the end. He was through with her forever. -What did he know about her? What did any of them -know about her? She had never mentioned her life or -associations in the city—he recalled that now. She had -known no one whom they knew, and they had taken her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span> -in and treated her as a daughter of the house, without -knowing anything of her; and this was their reward!</p> - -<p>She was doubtless a hireling of the gang that had -stolen the whisky and disposed of it through Guy. They -had sent her here to spy on Guy and to watch the Penningtons. -It was she who had set the trap in which he -had been caught, not to save Guy, but to throw the -suspicion of guilt upon Custer.</p> - -<p>But for what reason? There was no reason except -that he had been selected from the first to be the scapegoat -when the government officers were too hot upon -their trail. She had watched him carefully. God, but -she had been cunning and he credulous! There had been -scarce a day that she had not been with him. She had -ridden the hills with him, and she had kept him from -following the mysterious trail—so he reasoned in his rage, -though as a matter of fact she had done nothing of the -sort; but anger and hate are blind, and Custer Pennington -was angry and filled with hate. Unreasoning rage -consumed him.</p> - -<p>He believed that he never had hated before as he hated -this girl now, so far to the other extreme had the shock -of her duplicity driven his regard for her. He would -see her just once more, and he would tell her what he -thought of her, so that there might be no chance that -she would ever again enter the home of the Penningtons. -He must see to that before he went away, that -Eva might not be exposed to the influence of such a -despicable character.</p> - -<p>But he could not see her to-day. He could not trust -himself to see her, for even in his anger he remembered -that she was a woman, and that when he saw her he -must treat her as a woman. If she had been within reach -when he first discovered her, a moment since, he could -have struck her, choked her.</p> - -<p>With the realization, the senseless fury of his anger -left him. He turned the Apache away, and headed him -again toward the east pasture; but deep within his heart<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -was a cold anger that was quite as terrible, though in -a different way.</p> - -<p>Shannon Burke rode up the trail toward the camp of -the smugglers, all unconscious that there looked down -upon her from a high ridge behind eyes filled with hate -and loathing—the eyes of the man she loved.</p> - -<p>She put Baldy up the steep trail that had so filled her -with terror when she first scaled it, and down upon the -other side into the grove of oaks that had hidden the -camp; but now there was no camp there—only the debris -that always marks the stopping place of men.</p> - -<p>As she reached the foot of the trail, she saw Bartolo -standing beneath a great oak, awaiting her. His pony -stood with trailing reins beneath the tree. A rifle butt -protruded from a boot on the right of the saddle. He -came forward as she guided Baldy toward the tree.</p> - -<p>“<i xml:lang="es" lang="es">Buenos dias, señorita</i>,” he greeted her, twisting his -pock-marked face into the semblance of a smile.</p> - -<p>“What do you want of me?” Shannon demanded.</p> - -<p>“I need money,” he said. “You get money from Evans. -He got all the money from the hootch we take down two -weeks ago. We never get no chance to get it from -him.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll get you nothing!”</p> - -<p>“You get money now—and whenever I want it,” said -the Mexican, “or I tell about Crumb. You Crumb’s -woman. I tell how you peddle dope. I know! You -do what I tell you, or you go to the pen. <i xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">Sabe?</i>”</p> - -<p>“Now listen to me,” said the girl. “I didn’t come up -here to take orders from you. I came to give you orders.”</p> - -<p>“What?” exclaimed the Mexican, and then he laughed -aloud. “You give me orders? That is damn funny!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is funny. You will enjoy it immensely when -I tell you what you are to do.”</p> - -<p>“Hurry, then; I have no time to waste.”</p> - -<p>He was still laughing.</p> - -<p>“You are going to find some way to clear Mr. Pennington -of the charge against him. I don’t care what the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -way is, so long as it does not incriminate any other innocent -person. If you can do it without getting yourself -in trouble, well and good. I do not care; but you must -see that there is evidence given before the grand jury -next Wednesday that will prove Mr. Pennington’s -innocence.”</p> - -<p>“Is that all?” inquired Bartolo, grinning broadly.</p> - -<p>“That is all.”</p> - -<p>“And if I don’t do it—eh?”</p> - -<p>“Then I shall go before the grand jury and tell them -about you, and Allen—about the opium and the morphine -and the cocaine—how you smuggled the stolen booze -from the ship off the coast up into the mountains.”</p> - -<p>“You think you would do that?” he asked. “But how -about me? Wouldn’t I be telling everything I know -about you? Allen would testify, too, and they would -make Crumb come and tell how you lived with him. -Oh, no, I guess you don’t tell the grand jury nothing!”</p> - -<p>“I shall tell them everything. Do you think I care -about myself? I will tell them all that Allen or Crumb -could tell; and listen, Bartolo—I can tell them something -more. There used to be five men in your gang. There -were three when I came up last week, and Allen is in -jail; but where is the other?”</p> - -<p>The man’s face went black with anger, and perhaps -with fear, too.</p> - -<p>“What you know about that?” he demanded sharply.</p> - -<p>“Allen told Crumb the first time he came to the Hollywood -bungalow that he was having trouble among his -gang, that you were a hard lot to handle, and that already -one named Bartolo had killed one named Gracial. How -would you like me to tell that to the grand jury?”</p> - -<p>“You never tell that to no one!” growled the Mexican. -“You know too damn much for your health!”</p> - -<p>He had stepped suddenly forward and seized her wrist. -She struck at him and at the same time put the spurs to -Baldy—in her fear and excitement more severely than -she had intended. The high-spirited animal, unused to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span> -such treatment, leaped forward past the Mexican, who, -clinging to the girl’s wrist, dragged her from the saddle. -Baldy turned, and feeling himself free, ran for the trail -that led toward home.</p> - -<p>“You know too damn much!” repeated Bartolo. “You -better off up here alongside Gracial!”</p> - -<p>The girl had risen to her feet and stood facing him. -There was no fear in her eyes. She was very beautiful, -and her beauty was not lost upon the Mexican.</p> - -<p>“You mean that you would kill me to keep me from -telling the truth about you?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Why not? Should I die instead? If you had kept -your mouth shut, you would have been all right; but now”—he -shrugged suggestively—“you better off up here beside -Gracial.”</p> - -<p>“They’ll get you and hang you for it,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Who will know?”</p> - -<p>“The boy who brought me the message from you.”</p> - -<p>“He will not tell. He my son.”</p> - -<p>“I wrote a note and left it in my desk before I came -up here, telling everything, for fear of something of this -sort,” she said.</p> - -<p>“You lie!” he accused, correctly; “but for fear you -did, I go down and burn your house to-night, after I get -through with you. The ground pretty hard after the -hot weather—it take me long time to dig a hole beside -Gracial!”</p> - -<p>The girl was at her wits’ end now. Her pitiful little -lie had not availed. She began to realize that nothing -would avail. She had made the noose, stuck her head into -it, and sprung the trap. It was too late to alter the consequences. -The man had the physique of a bull—she could -not hope to escape him by recourse to any power other -than her wits, and in the first effort along that line she -had failed miserably and put him on his guard.</p> - -<p>Her case appeared hopeless. She thought of pleading -with him, but realized the futility of it. The fact that -she did not do so indicated her courage, which had not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span> -permitted her to lose her head. She saw that it was -either his life or hers, as he saw the matter, and that it -was going to be hers was obvious.</p> - -<p>The man stood facing her, holding her by the wrist. -His eyes appraised her boldly.</p> - -<p>“You damn good-looking,” he said, and pulled the -girl toward him. “Before I kill you, <span class="locked">I——”</span></p> - -<p>He threw an arm about her roughly, and, leaning far -over her as she pulled away, he sought to reach her lips -with his.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">The</span> Apache had taken but a few steps on the trail -toward the east pasture when Custer reined him in suddenly -and wheeled him about.</p> - -<p>“I’ll settle this thing now,” he muttered. “I’ll catch -her with them. I’ll find out who the others are. By -God, I’ve got her now, and I’ve got them!”</p> - -<p>He spurred the Apache into a lope along the steep -and dangerous declivity leading downward into the basin. -The horse was surprised. Never before had he been allowed -to go down hill faster than a walk—his sound -forelegs attested the careful horsemanship of his rider.</p> - -<p>Where the trail wound around bushes, he took perilous -jumps on the steep hillside, for his speed was too great -to permit him to make the short turns. He cleared them, -and somehow he stuck to the trail beyond. His iron -shoes struck fire from half embedded bowlders.</p> - -<p>A rattler crossing the trail ahead coiled, buzzing its -warning. The hillside was steep—there was no footing -above or below the snake. The Apache could not have -stopped in time to save himself from those poisoned -fangs. A coward horse would have wheeled and gone -over the cliff; but the Morgan is no coward.</p> - -<p>The rider saw the danger at the instant the horse did. -The animal felt the spurs touch him lightly, he heard -a word of encouragement from the man he trusted. As -the snake struck, he rose, gathering his four feet close -to his belly, and cleared the danger spot far out of reach -of the needle-like fangs.</p> - -<p>The trail beyond was narrow, rocky, and shelving—the -thing could not have happened in a worse place. The -Apache lit, stumbled, slipped. His off hind foot went -over the edge. He lunged forward upon his knees.</p> - -<p>Only the cool horsemanship of his rider saved them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span> -both. A pound of weight thrown in the wrong direction -would have toppled the horse to the bottom of the rocky -gorge; a heavy hand upon the bit would have accomplished -the same result. Pennington sat easily the balanced -seat that gave the horse the best chance to regain -his footing. His touch upon the bit was only sufficient -to impart confidence to his mount, giving the animal’s -head free play, as nature intended, as he scrambled back -to the trail again.</p> - -<p>At last they reached the safer footing of the basin, and -were off in a straight line for the ravine into which led -the mysterious trail. The Apache knew that there was -need for haste—an inclination of his master’s body, a -closing of the knees against his barrel, the slight raising -of the bridle hand, had told him this more surely than -loud cries of the punishment of steel rowels. He flattened -out and flew.</p> - -<p>The cold rage that gripped Pennington brooked no -delay. He was glad, though, that he was unarmed; for -he knew that when he came face to face with the men -with whom Shannon Burke had conspired against him, -he might again cease to be master of his anger.</p> - -<p>They reached the foot of the acclivity terminating at -the summit of the ridge beyond which lay the camp of -the bootleggers. Again the man urged his mount to the -necessity of speed. The powerful beast leaped upward -along the steep trail, digging his toes deep into the sun-baked -soil, every muscle in his body strained to the limit -of its powers.</p> - -<p>At the summit they met Baldy, head and tail erect, -snorting and riderless. The appearance of the horse and -his evident fright bespoke something amiss. Custer had -seen him just as he was emerging from the upper end -of the dim trail leading down the opposite side of the -hogback. He turned the Apache into it and headed him -down toward the oaks.</p> - -<p>Below, Shannon was waging a futile fight against<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span> -the burly Bartolo. She struck at his face and attempted -to push him from her, but he only laughed his crooked -laugh and pushed her slowly toward the trampled dust -of the abandoned camp.</p> - -<p>“Before I kill you——” he repeated again and again, -as if it were some huge joke.</p> - -<p>He heard the sound of the Apache’s hoofs upon the -trail above, but he thought it the loose horse of the girl. -Custer was almost at the bottom of the trail when the -Mexican glanced up and saw him. With a curse, he -hurled Shannon aside and leaped toward his pony.</p> - -<p>At the same instant the girl saw the Apache and his -rider, and in the next she saw Bartolo seize his rifle and -attempt to draw it from its boot. Leaping to her feet, -she sprang toward the Mexican, who was cursing frightfully -because the rifle had stuck and he could not readily -extricate it from the boot. As she reached him, he succeeded -in jerking the weapon free. Swinging about, he -threw it to his shoulder and fired at Pennington, just -as Shannon threw herself upon him, clutching at his arms -and dragging the muzzle of the weapon downward. He -struck at her face, and tried to wrench the rifle from her -grasp; but she clung to it with all the desperation that the -danger confronting the man she loved engendered.</p> - -<p>Custer had thrown himself from the saddle and was -running toward them. Bartolo saw that he could not -regain the rifle in time to use it. He struck the girl a -terrible blow in the face that sent her to the ground. -Then he turned and vaulted into his saddle, and was away -across the bottom and up the trail on the opposite side -before Pennington could reach him and drag him from -his pony.</p> - -<p>Custer turned to the girl lying motionless upon the -ground. He knelt and raised her in his arms. She had -fainted, and her face was very white. He looked down -into it—the face of the girl he hated. He felt his arms -about her, he felt her body against his, and suddenly a -look of horror filled his eyes.</p> - -<p>He laid her back upon the ground, and stood up. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span> -was trembling violently. As he had held her in his -arms, there had swept over him an almost irresistible desire -to crush her to him, to cover her eyes and cheeks -with kisses, to smother her lips with them—the girl he -hated!</p> - -<p>A great light had broken upon his mental horizon—a -light of understanding that left all his world in the dark -shadow of despair. He loved Shannon Burke!</p> - -<p>Again he knelt beside her, and very gently he lifted -her in his arms until he could support her across one -shoulder. Then he whistled to the Apache, who was -nibbling the bitter leaves of the live oak. When the horse -came to him, he looped the bridle reins about his arm -and started on foot up the trail down which he had just -ridden, carrying Shannon across his shoulder. At the -summit of the ridge he found Baldy grazing upon the -sparse, burned grasses of late September.</p> - -<p>It was then that Shannon Burke opened her eyes. At -first, confused by the rush of returning recollections, she -thought that it was the Mexican who was carrying her; -but an instant later she recognized the whipcord riding -breeches and the familiar boots and spurs of the son -of Ganado. Then she stirred upon his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“I am all right now,” she said. “You may put me -down. I can walk.”</p> - -<p>He lowered her to the ground, but he still supported -her as they stood facing each other.</p> - -<p>“You came just in time,” she said. “He was going -to kill me.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad I came,” was all that he said.</p> - -<p>She noticed how tired and pinched Custer’s face looked, -as if he had risen from a sick bed after a long period of -suffering. He looked older—very much older—and oh, so -sad! It wrung her heart; but she did not question him. -She was waiting for him to question her, for she knew -that he must wonder why she had come here, and what -the meaning of the encounter he had witnessed; but he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span> -did not ask her anything, beyond inquiring whether she -thought she was strong enough to sit her saddle if he -helped her mount.</p> - -<p>“I shall be all right now,” she assured him.</p> - -<p>He caught Baldy and assisted her into the saddle. -Then he mounted the Apache and led the way along the -trail toward home. They were halfway across the basin -meadow before either spoke. It was Shannon who broke -the silence.</p> - -<p>“You must have wondered what I was doing up there,” -she said, with a backward nod of her head.</p> - -<p>“That would not be strange, would it?”</p> - -<p>“I will tell you.”</p> - -<p>“No,” he said. “It is bad enough that you went there -to-day and the Saturday before I was arrested. Anything -more that you could tell me would only make it -worse. Do you remember that girl I told you about—that -friend of Cousin William—who visited us?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“I followed you up here to-day to tell you the same -thing I told her.”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” she said.</p> - -<p>“You do not understand,” he snapped, almost angrily. -“You understand nothing. I only said that I followed -to tell you that. I have not told you, have I? Well, I -don’t intend to tell you; but my shame that I don’t is -enough without you telling me any more to add to it. -There can be no honorable excuse for your having come -here that other time, or this time, either. There is no -reason in the world why a woman should have any dealings -with criminals, or any knowledge that would make -dealings with them possible. That is the reason I don’t -want you to tell me more. Oh, Shannon”—his voice -broke—“I don’t want to hear anything bad about you!... -Please!”</p> - -<p>She had been upon the verge of just anger until then. -Even now she did not understand—only that he wanted -to believe in her, however much he doubted her, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -that their friendship had meant more to him than she -had imagined.</p> - -<p>“But I must tell you, Custer,” she insisted. “Now -that you have learned this much, I can see that your -suspicions wrong me more than I deserve. I came here -the Saturday before you were arrested to warn them -that you were going to watch for them on the following -Friday. Though I did not know the men, I knew what -sort they were, and that they would kill you the moment -they found that they were discovered. It was only -to save your life that I came that other time, and this -time I came to try to force them to go before the grand -jury and clear you of the charge against you; but when -I threatened the man, and he found what I knew about -him, he said that he would kill me.”</p> - -<p>“You did not know that I was going to be arrested -that night?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Custer, how could you believe that of me?” exclaimed -Shannon.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t want to believe it.”</p> - -<p>“I came into all this information—about the work of -this gang—by accidentally overhearing a conversation -in Hollywood, months ago. I know the names of the -principals, I know Guy’s connection with them. To-day -I was trying to keep Guy’s name out, too, if that were -possible; but he is guilty and you are not. I cannot -understand how he could come back from Los Angeles -without telling them the truth and removing the suspicion -from you.”</p> - -<p>“I would not let him,” said Pennington.</p> - -<p>“You would not let him? You would go to the penitentiary -for the crime of another?”</p> - -<p>“Not for him, but for Eva. Guy and I thrashed it -all out. He wanted to give himself up—he almost demanded -that I should let him; but it can’t be done. Eva -must never know.”</p> - -<p>“But, Custer, you can’t go! It wouldn’t be fair—it -wouldn’t be right. I won’t let you go! I know enough to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span> -clear you, and I shall go before the grand jury on Wednesday -and tell all I know.”</p> - -<p>“No,” he said. “You must not. It would involve -Guy.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t mention Guy.”</p> - -<p>“But you will mention others, and they will mention -Guy—don’t doubt that for a minute.” He turned suddenly -toward her. “Promise me, Shannon, that you will -not go—that you will not mention what you know to a -living soul. I would rather go to the pen for twenty -years than see Eva’s life ruined. You don’t know her. -She’s gay and happy and frivolous on the outside; but -deep within her is a soul of wondrous sensitiveness and -beauty, which is fortified and guarded by her pride and -her honor. Strike down one of these, and you will have -given her soul a wound from which it may never recover. -She can understand neither meanness nor depravity -in men and women. Should she ever learn that -Guy had been connected with this gang, and that the -money upon which they were to start their married life -was the fruits of his criminality, it would break her -heart. I know that Guy isn’t criminally inclined, and -that this will be a lesson that will keep him straight as -long as he lives; but she wouldn’t look at it that way. -Now do you see why you must not tell what you know?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you are right, but it seems to me she would -not suffer any more if Guy went than if her brother went. -She loves you very much.”</p> - -<p>“But she will know that I am innocent. If Guy went, -she would know that he was guilty.”</p> - -<p>Shannon had no answer to this, and they were silent -for a while.</p> - -<p>“You will help me to keep this from Eva?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>She was thinking of the futility of her sacrifice, and -wondering what explanation he was putting upon her -knowledge of the activities of the criminals. He had said -that there could be no reason in the world why a woman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span> -should have any dealings with such men, or any knowledge -that would make dealings with them possible. What -would he think of her if he knew the truth?</p> - -<p>The man’s mind was a chaos of conflicting thoughts—the -sudden realization of a love that was as impossible -as it was unwelcome—recollection of his vows to Grace, -which were as binding upon his honor as the marriage -vows themselves would have been—doubts as to the -character and antecedents of this girl who rode at his -side to-day, and whose place in his life had suddenly -assumed an importance beyond that of any other.</p> - -<p>Then he turned a little, his eyes rested upon her profile, -and he found it hard to doubt her.</p> - -<p>Shannon felt his eyes upon her, and looked up.</p> - -<p>“You have been so good to me, Custer, all of you—you -can never know how I have valued the friendship of -the Penningtons, or what it has meant to me, or how I -have striven to deserve it. I would have done anything -to repay a part, at least, of what it has done for me. -That was what I was trying to do—that is why I wanted -to go before the grand jury, no matter what the cost -to me; but I failed, and perhaps I have only made it -worse. I do not even know that you believe me.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you, Shannon,” he said. “There is much -that I do not understand; but I believe that what you did -was done in our interests. There is nothing more that -any of us can do now but keep still about what we know, -for the moment one of those actually responsible is -threatened with exposure Guy’s name will be divulged—you -may rest assured of that. They would be only too -glad to shift the responsibility to his shoulders.”</p> - -<p>“But you will make some effort to defend yourself?”</p> - -<p>“I shall simply plead not guilty, and tell the truth about -why I was up there when the officers arrested me.”</p> - -<p>“You will make no other defense?”</p> - -<p>“What other defense can I make that would not risk -incriminating Guy?” Custer asked her.</p> - -<p>She shook her head. It seemed quite hopeless.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Federal</span> officers, searching the hills found the camp -above Jackknife Cañon. They collected a number of -empty bottles bearing labels identical with those on the -bottles in the cases carried by the burros, and those -found in Custer Pennington’s room. That was all -they discovered, except that the camp was located on -the Pennington property.</p> - -<p>The district attorney, realizing the paucity of evidence -calculated to convict the prisoner on any serious charge, -was inclined to drop the prosecution; but the prohibition -enforcement agents, backed by a band of women, most -of whom had never performed a woman’s first duty to -the state and society, and therefore had ample time to -meddle in affairs far beyond the scope of their intellects, -seized upon the prominence of the Pennington name to -gain notoriety for themselves on the score that the conviction -of a member of a prominent family would have -an excellent moral effect upon the community at large.</p> - -<p>Just how they arrived at this conclusion it is difficult -to discern. Similarly one might argue that if it could -be proved that the Pope was a pickpocket, it would be -tremendously effective in regenerating the morals of the -world.</p> - -<p>Be that as it may, the works of the righteous were not -without fruit, for on the 12th of October Custer Pennington -was found guilty and sentenced to six months in the -county jail for having had several hundred dollars’ worth -of stolen whisky in his possession. He was neither surprised -nor disheartened. His only concern was for the -sensibilities of his family, and these—represented at the -trial in the person of his father—seemed far from overwhelmed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -for the colonel was unalterably convinced of -his son’s innocence.</p> - -<p>Eva, who had remained at home with her mother, was -more deeply affected than the others, though through a -sense of injustice rather than of shame. Shannon, depressed -by an unwarranted sense of responsibility for the -wrong that Custer had suffered, and chagrined that force -of circumstances should have prevented her from saving -the Penningtons from a stain upon their escutcheon, found -it increasingly difficult to continue her intimacy with these -loved friends. Carrying in her heart the knowledge and -the proof of his innocence, she regarded herself as a -traitor among them, and in consequence held herself more -and more aloof from their society, first upon one pretext -and then upon another.</p> - -<p>At a loss to account for her change toward them, -Eva, in a moment of depression, attributed it to the disgrace -of Custer’s imprisonment.</p> - -<p>“She is ashamed to associate with the family of a—a—jailbird!” -she cried.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe anything of the kind,” replied the -colonel. “Shannon’s got too much sense, and she’s too -loyal. That’s all damned poppycock!”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure she couldn’t feel that way,” said Mrs. Pennington. -“She has been just as positive in her assertions of -Custer’s innocence as any of us.”</p> - -<p>“You might as well think the same about Guy,” said -the colonel. “He’s scarcely been up here since Custer’s -arrest.”</p> - -<p>“He’s very busy on a new story. Anyway, I asked -him about that very thing, and offered to break the engagement -if he felt our disgrace too keenly to want to -marry into the family.”</p> - -<p>The colonel drew her down to his knee.</p> - -<p>“You silly little girl!” he said. “Do you suppose that -this has made any difference in the affection that Guy or -any other of our real friends feel for us? Not in the -slightest. Even if Cus were guilty, they would not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span> -change. Those who did we would be better off not to -know. I am rather jealous of the Pennington honor -myself, but I have never felt that this affair is any reflection -upon it, and you need not.”</p> - -<p>“But I can’t help it, popsy. My brother, my dear -brother, in jail with a lot of thieves and murderers and -horrible people like that! It is just too awful! I lie -awake at night thinking about it. I am ashamed to go -to the village, for fear some one will point at me and -say, ‘There goes the girl whose brother is in jail!’”</p> - -<p>“You are taking it much too hard, dear,” said her -mother. “One would think that our boy was really -guilty.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, if he really were, I should kill myself!”</p> - -<p>The only person, other than the officious reformers, to -derive any happiness from young Pennington’s fate was -Slick Allen. He occupied a cell not far from Custer’s, -and there were occasions when they were thrown together. -Several times Allen saw fit to fling gibes at his former -employer, much to the amusement of his fellows. They -were usually indirect.</p> - -<p>One day, as Custer was passing, Allen remarked in a -loud tone:</p> - -<p>“There’s a lot more of these damn fox-trottin’ dudes -that put on airs, but ain’t nothin’ but common thieves!”</p> - -<p>Pennington turned and faced him.</p> - -<p>“You remember what you got the last time you tried -calling me names, Allen? Well, don’t think for a minute -that just because we’re in jail I won’t hand you the -same thing again some day, if you get too funny. The -trouble with you, Allen, is that you are laboring under -the misapprehension that you are a humorist. You’re -not, and if I were you I wouldn’t make faces at the only -man in this jail who knows about you, and Bartolo, and—Gracial. -Don’t forget Gracial!”</p> - -<p>Allen paled, and his eyes closed to two very narrow -slits. He made no more observations concerning Pennington; -but he devoted much thought to him, trying to arrive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span> -at some reasonable explanation of the man’s silence, when -it was evident that he must have sufficient knowledge of -the guilt of others to clear himself of the charge upon -which he had been convicted.</p> - -<p>To Allen’s hatred of Custer was now added a real -fear, for he had been present when Bartolo killed Gracial. -The other two witnesses had been Mexicans, and Allen -had no doubt but that if Bartolo were accused, the three -of them would swear that the American committed the -murder.</p> - -<p>One of the first things to do, when he was released -from jail, would be to do away with Bartolo. Bartolo -disposed of, the other witnesses would join with Allen -to lay the guilt upon the departed. Such pleasant thoughts -occupied the time and mind of Slick Allen, as did also -his plans for paying one Wilson Crumb a little debt he -felt due this one-time friend.</p> - -<p>Nor was Crumb free from apprehension for the time -that would see Allen’s jail sentence fulfilled. He well -knew the nature of the man. It is typical of drug addicts -to disregard the effect of their acts further than -the immediate serving of their own interests, and the -director had encompassed Allen’s arrest merely to meet -the emergency of the moment. Later, as time gave him -the opportunity to consider what must inevitably follow -Allen’s release, he began to take thought as to means -whereby he might escape the just deserts of his treachery.</p> - -<p>He knew enough of Allen’s activities to send the man -to a Federal prison for a long term, but these matters he -could not divulge without equally incriminating himself. -There was, however, one little item of Allen’s past which -might be used against him without signal danger to -Crumb, and that was the murder of Gracial. It would -not be necessary for Crumb to appear in the matter at -all. An anonymous letter to the police would suffice to -direct suspicion of the crime toward Allen, and to insure -for Crumb, if not permanent immunity, at least a period -of reprieve.</p> - -<p>With the natural predilection of the weak for avoiding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span> -or delaying the consummation of their intentions, Crumb -postponed the writing of this letter of accusation. There -was no cause for hurry, he argued, since Allen’s time -would not expire until the 6th of the following August.</p> - -<p>Crumb led a lonely life after the departure of Gaza. -His infatuation for the girl had as closely approximated -love as a creature of his type could reach. He had come -to depend upon her, and to look forward to finding her at -the Vista del Paso bungalow on his return from the studio. -Since her departure his evenings had been unbearable, -and with the passing weeks he developed a hatred for -the place that constantly reminded him of his loss. He -had been so confident that she would have to return to -him after she had consumed the small quantity of morphine -he had allotted her that only after the weeks had -run into months did he realize that she had probably -gone out of his life forever. How she had accomplished -it he could not understand, unless she had found means -of obtaining the narcotic elsewhere.</p> - -<p>Not knowing where she had gone, he had no means -of searching for her. In his own mind, however, he -was convinced that she must have returned to Los -Angeles. Judging others by himself, he could conceive -of no existence that would be supportable beyond the -limits of a large city, where the means for the gratification -of his vice might be obtained.</p> - -<p>That Gaza de Lure had successfully thrown off the -fetters into which he had tricked her never for a moment -entered his calculations. Finally, however, it was borne -in upon him that there was little likelihood of her returning; -and so depressing had become the familiar and -suggestive furnishings of the Vista del Paso bungalow -that he at last gave it up, stored his furniture, and took -a room at a local hotel. He took with him, carefully -concealed in a trunk, his supply of narcotics—which he -did not find it so easy to dispose of since the departure -of his accomplice.</p> - -<p>During the first picture in which Grace Evans had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span> -worked with him, Crumb had become more and more -impressed with her beauty and the subtle charm of her -refinement, which appealed to him by contrast with the -ordinary surroundings and personalities of the K. K. S. -studio. There was a quiet restfulness about her which -soothed his diseased nerves, and after Gaza’s desertion -he found himself more and more seeking her society. As -was his accustomed policy, his attentions were at first -so slight, and increased by such barely perceptible degrees, -that, taken in connection with his uniform courtesy, they -gave the girl no warning of his ultimate purposes.</p> - -<p>The matter of the test had shocked and disgusted her -for the moment; but the thing having been done, and -no harm coming from it, she began to consider even that -with less revulsion than formerly. The purpose of it -she had never been able to fathom; but if Crumb had -intended it to place him insidiously upon a plane of -greater intimacy with the girl, he had succeeded. That -the effect was subjective rendered it none the less -effective.</p> - -<p>Added to these factors in the budding intimacy between -the director and the extra girl was the factor which is -always most potent in similar associations—the fear that -the girl holds of offending a potent ally, and the hope of -propitiating a power in which lies the potentiality of success -upon the screen.</p> - -<p>Lunches at Frank’s, dinners at the Ship, dances at the -Country Club, led by easy gradations to more protracted -parties at the Sunset Inn and the Green Mill. The purposes -of Crumb’s shrewdly conceived and carefully executed -plan were twofold. Primarily, he sought a companionship -to replace that of which Gaza de Lure had -robbed him. Secondarily, he needed a new tool to assist -in the disposal of the considerable store of narcotics that -he had succeeded in tricking Allen and his accomplices -into delivering to him with the understanding that he -would divide the profits of the sales with them—which,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span> -however, Crumb had no intention of doing if he could -possibly avoid it.</p> - -<p>In much the same manner that he had tricked Gaza de -Lure, he tricked Grace Evans into the use of cocaine; -and after that the rest was easy. Renting another and -less pretentious bungalow on Circle Terrace, he installed -the girl there, and transferred the trunk of narcotics to -her care, retaining his room at the hotel for himself.</p> - -<p>Grace’s fall was more easily accomplished than in the -case of Gaza, and was more complete, for the former -had neither the courage nor the strength of character that -had enabled the other to withstand the more degrading -advances of her tempter. To assume that the girl made -no effort to oppose his importunings would be both unfair -and unjust, for both heredity and training had endowed -her with a love of honor and a horror of the sordidness -of vice; but the gradual undermining of her will -by the subtle inroads of narcotics rendered her powerless -to withstand the final assault upon the citadel of her -scruples.</p> - -<p>One evening, toward the middle of October, they were -dining together at the Winter Garden. Crumb had -bought an evening paper on the street, and was glancing -through it as they sat waiting for their dinner to be -served. Presently he looked up at the girl seated opposite -him.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you come from a little jerk-water place up the -line, called Ganado?” he asked.</p> - -<p>She nodded affirmatively.</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Here’s a guy from there been sent up for bootlegging—fellow -by the name of Pennington.”</p> - -<p>She half closed her eyes, as if in pain.</p> - -<p>“I know,” she said. “It has been in the newspapers -for the last couple of weeks.”</p> - -<p>“Did you know him?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—he has been out to see me since his arrest, and -he called up once.”</p> - -<p>“Did you see him?”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span></p> - -<p>“No—I would be ashamed to see any decent person!”</p> - -<p>“Decent!” snorted Crumb. “You don’t call a damned -bootlegger decent, do you?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe he ever did it,” said the girl. “I have -known him all my life, and his family. I’m certain that -he couldn’t have done it.”</p> - -<p>A sudden light came into Crumb’s eye.</p> - -<p>“By God!” he exclaimed, bringing his fist down upon -the table.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter?” Grace inquired.</p> - -<p>“Well, wouldn’t that get you?” he exclaimed. “I -never connected you at all!”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“This fellow Pennington may not be guilty, but I know -who is.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know? I don’t understand you. Why -do you look at me that way?”</p> - -<p>“Well, if that isn’t the best ever!” exclaimed the man. -“And here you have been handing me a long line of talk -about the decent family you came from, and how it -would kill them if they knew you sniffed a little coke -now and then. Well, wouldn’t that get you? You certainly -are a fine one to preach!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand you,” said the girl. “What has -this to do with me? I am not related to Mr. Pennington, -but it would make no difference if I were, for I -know he never did anything of the sort. The idea of -a Pennington bootlegging! Why, they have more money -than they need, and always have had.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t Pennington who ought to be in jail,” he said. -“It’s your brother.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him in surprise, and then she laughed.</p> - -<p>“You must have been hitting it up strong to-day, -Wilson,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, I haven’t; but it’s funny I never thought of -it before. Allen told me a long while ago that a fellow -by the name of Evans was handling the hootch for him.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span> -He said he got a job from the Penningtons as stableman -in order to be near the camp where they had the -stuff cached in the hills. He described Evans as a young -blood, so I guess there isn’t any doubt about it. You -have a brother—I’ve heard you speak of him.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe you,” she said.</p> - -<p>“It don’t make any difference whether you believe me -or not. I could put your brother in the pen, and they’ve -only got Pennington in the county jail. All they could -get on him, according to this article, was having stolen -goods in his possession; but your brother was in on the -whole proposition. It was hidden in his hay barn. He -delivered it to a fellow who came up there every week, -ostensibly to get hay, and your brother collected the -money. Gosh, they’d send him up for sure if I ever -tipped them off to what I know!”</p> - -<p>And thus was fashioned the power he used to force -her to his will.</p> - -<p>A week later the bungalow on Circle Terrace was engaged, -and Grace Evans took up the work of peddling -narcotics, which Shannon Burke had laid down a few -months before. With this difference—Gaza de Lure had -shared in the profits of the traffic, while Grace Evans got -nothing more than her living, and what drugs she craved -for her personal use.</p> - -<p>Her life, her surroundings, every environment of this -new and terrible world into which her ambition had introduced -her, tended rapidly to ravish her beauty. She -faded with a rapidity that was surprising even to Crumb—surprising -and annoying. He had wanted her for her -beauty, and now she was losing it; but still he must keep -her, because of her value in his nefarious commerce.</p> - -<p>As weeks and months went by, he no longer took -pleasure in her society, and was seldom at the bungalow -save when he came to demand an accounting and to collect -the proceeds of her sales. Her pleas and reproaches had -no other effect upon him than to arouse his anger. One -day, when she clung to him, begging him not to desert<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span> -her, he pushed her roughly from him so that she fell, -and in falling she struck the edge of a table and hurt -herself.</p> - -<p>This happened in April. On the following day Custer -Pennington, his term in the county jail expired, was -liberated.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Custer’s</span> long hours of loneliness had often been occupied -with plans against the day of his liberation. That -Grace had not seen him or communicated with him since -his arrest and conviction had been a source of wonder -and hurt to him. He recalled many times the circumstance -of the telephone call, with a growing belief that -Grace had been there, but had refused to talk with him. -Nevertheless, he was determined to see her before he -returned to Ganado.</p> - -<p>He had asked particularly that none of his family -should come to Los Angeles on the day of his release, but -that the roadster should be sent up on the preceding -day and left in a garage for him. He lost no time, after -quitting the jail, in getting his machine and driving out -to Hollywood, to the house where Grace had boarded.</p> - -<p>The woman who answered his ring told him that Grace -no longer lived there. At first she was loath to give him -any information as to the girl’s whereabouts; but after -some persuasion she gave him a number on Circle Terrace, -and in that direction Pennington turned his car.</p> - -<p>As he left his car before the bungalow, and approached -the building, he could see into the interior through the -screen door, for it was a warm day in April, and the -inner door was open. As he mounted the few steps -leading to the porch, he saw a woman cross the living -room, into which the door opened. She moved hurriedly, -disappearing through a doorway opposite and closing -the door after her. Though he had but a brief glimpse -of her in the darkened interior, he knew that it was -Grace, so familiar were every line of her figure and -every movement of her carriage.</p> - -<p>It was several minutes after Custer rang before a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span> -Japanese appeared at the doorway. It was the same -Japanese “schoolboy” who had served as general factotum -at the Vista del Paso bungalow. He opened the screen -door a few inches and looked inquiringly at the caller.</p> - -<p>“I wish to see Miss Evans,” said Custer.</p> - -<p>He took a card case from his pocket and handed a -card to the servant, who looked blankly at the card and -then at the caller, finally shaking his head stupidly and -closing the door.</p> - -<p>“No here,” he said. “Nobody home.”</p> - -<p>Pennington recalled once more the affair of the telephone. -He knew that he had just seen Grace inside the -bungalow. He had come to talk with her, and he intended -to do so.</p> - -<p>He laid his hand on the handle of the door and jerked -it open. The Jap, evidently lacking in discretion, endeavored -to prevent him from entering. First the guardian -clawed at the door in an effort to close it, and -then, very foolishly, he attempted to push Pennington -out on the porch. The results were disastrous to the Jap.</p> - -<p>Crossing the living room, Custer rapped on the door -through which he had seen Grace go, calling her by name. -Receiving no reply, he flung the door open. Facing -him was the girl he was engaged to marry.</p> - -<p>With her back against the dresser, Grace stood at the -opposite end of the room. Her disheveled hair fell about -her face, which was overspread with a sickly pallor. Her -wild, staring eyes were fixed upon him. Her mouth, -drooping at the corners, tremulously depicted a combination -of terror and anger.</p> - -<p>“Grace!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>She still stood staring at him for a moment before -she spoke.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean,” she demanded at last, “by breaking -into my bedroom? Get out! I don’t want to see you. -I don’t want you here!”</p> - -<p>He crossed the room and put a hand upon her shoulder.</p> - -<p>“My God, Grace,” he cried, “what is the matter? What<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span> -has happened to you?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing has happened,” she mumbled. “There is -nothing the matter with me. I suppose you want me to -go back with the rest of the rubes. I am through with -the damned country—and country jakes, too!” she added.</p> - -<p>“You mean that you don’t want me here, Grace? That -you don’t love me?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Love you?” She broke into a disagreeable laugh. -“Why, you poor rube, I never want to see you again!”</p> - -<p>He stood looking at her for a moment longer, and then -he turned slowly and walked out of the bungalow and -down to his car. When he had gone, the girl threw -herself face down upon the bed and burst into uncontrollable -sobs. For the moment she had risen triumphant -above the clutches of her sordid vice. For that brief -moment she had played her part to save the man she -loved from greater torture and humiliation in the future—at -what a price only she could ever know.</p> - -<p>Custer found them waiting for him on the east porch -as he drove up to the ranch house. The new freedom -and the long drive over the beautiful highway through -the clear April sunshine, with the green hills at his left -and the lovely valley spread out upon his right hand, to -some extent alleviated the depression that had followed -the shock of his interview with Grace; and when he -alighted from the car he seemed quite his normal self -again.</p> - -<p>Eva was the first to reach him. She fairly threw herself -upon her brother, laughing and crying in a hysteria -of happiness. His mother was smiling through her tears, -while the colonel blew his nose violently, remarking that -it was “a hell of a time of year to have a damned cold!”</p> - -<p>Custer joked a little about his imprisonment, but he -soon saw that the mere mention of it had a most depressing -effect upon Eva; so he did not revert to the subject -again in her presence. He confined himself to plying -them with a hundred questions about happenings on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -ranch during his long absence, the condition of the stock, -and the crop outlook for the season.</p> - -<p>As he considered the effect his undeserved jail sentence -had produced upon the sensibilities of his sister, he was -doubly repaid for the long months of confinement that -he had suffered in order to save her from the still greater -blow of having the man she was to marry justly convicted -of a far more serious crime. He saw no reason -now why she should ever learn the truth. The temporary -disgrace of his incarceration would soon be forgotten in -the everyday run of work and pleasure that constituted -the life of Ganado, and the specter of her hurt pride -would no longer haunt her.</p> - -<p>Custer was surprised that Guy and Mrs. Evans had -not been of the party that welcomed his return. When -he mentioned this, Eva told him that Mrs. Evans thought -the Penningtons would want to have him all to themselves -for a while, and that their neighbors were coming -up after dinner. And it was not until dinner that he -asked after Shannon.</p> - -<p>“We have seen very little of her since you left,” explained -his mother. “She returned Baldy soon after -that, and bought the Senator from Mrs. Evans.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what is the matter with the child,” said -the colonel. “She is as sweet as ever when we do see -her, and she always asks after you and tells us that she -believes in your innocence. She rides a great deal at -night, but seldom, if ever, in the daytime. I don’t think -it is safe for a woman to ride alone in the hills at night, -and I have told her so; but she says that she is not -afraid, and that she loves the hills as well by night as -by day.”</p> - -<p>“Eva has missed her company very much,” said Mrs. -Pennington. “I was afraid that we might have done -something to offend her, but none of us could think what -it could have been.”</p> - -<p>“I thought she was ashamed of us,” said Eva.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” exclaimed the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Of course that’s nonsense,” said Custer. “She knows<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span> -as well as the rest of you that I was innocent.”</p> - -<p>He was thinking how much more surely Shannon knew -his innocence than any of them.</p> - -<p>During dinner Eva regained her old-time spirit. More -than once the tears came to Mrs. Pennington’s eyes as -she realized that once more their little family was united, -and that the pall of sorrow that had weighed so heavily -upon them for the past six months had at last lifted, revealing -again the sunshine of the daughter’s heart, which -had never been the same since their boy had gone away.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Cus!” exclaimed Eva. “The most scrumptious -thing is going to happen, and I’m so glad that you are -going to be here too. It’s going to be perfectly gorgeristic! -There’s be a whole regiment of them, and they’re -going to be camped right up at the mouth of Jackknife. -I can scarcely wait until they come—can you?”</p> - -<p>“I think I might manage,” said her brother; “at least -until you tell me what you are talking about.”</p> - -<p>“Pictures,” exclaimed Eva. “Isn’t it simplimetic gorgeristic? -And they may be here a whole month!”</p> - -<p>“What in the world is the child talking about?” asked -Custer, appealing to his mother.</p> - -<p>“Your father——” Mrs. Pennington started to explain.</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t tell him”; cried Eva. “I want to tell him -myself.”</p> - -<p>“You have been explaining for several minutes,” said -Custer; “but you haven’t said anything yet.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll start at the beginning, then. They’re going -to have Indians, and cowboys, <span class="locked">and——”</span></p> - -<p>“That sounds more like the finish,” suggested Custer.</p> - -<p>“Don’t interrupt me! They’re going to take a picture -on Ganado.”</p> - -<p>Custer turned toward his father with a look of surprise.</p> - -<p>“You needn’t blame papa,” said Eva. “It was all my -fault—or, rather, I should say our good fortune is all -due to me. You see, papa wasn’t going to let them come -at first, but the cutest man came up to see him—a nice,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -short, fat little man, and he rubbed his hands together -and said: ‘Vell, colonel?’ Papa told him that he had -never allowed any picture companies on the place; but -I happened to be there, and that was all that saved us, -for I teased and teased and teased until finally papa said -that they could come, provided they didn’t take any pictures -up around the house. They didn’t want to do that, -for they’re making a Western picture, and they said the -scenery at the back of the ranch is just what they want. -They’re coming up in a few days, and it’s going to be -perfectly radiant, and maybe I’ll get in the pictures!”</p> - -<p>“If I thought so,” said Custer, “I’d put a can of -nitroglycerine under the whole works the moment they -drove on to the property!” He was thinking of what the -pictures had done for Grace Evans. “I am surprised that -you permitted it, father,” he said, turning to the colonel.</p> - -<p>“I’m rather surprised myself,” admitted the older -Pennington; “but what was I to do, with that suave -little location manager rubbing his hands and oiling me -on one side, and this little rascal here pestering the life -out of me on the other? I simply had to give in. I -don’t imagine any harm will come from it. They’ve -promised to be very careful of all the property, and -whenever any of our stock is used it will be handled by -our own men.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose they are going to pay you handsomely -for it,” suggested Custer.</p> - -<p>The colonel smiled.</p> - -<p>“Well, that wasn’t exactly mentioned,” he said; “but I -have a recollection that the location manager said something -about presenting us with a fine set of stills of the -ranch.”</p> - -<p>“Generous of them!” said Custer. “They’ll camp all -over the shop, use our water, burn our firewood, and -trample up our pasture, and in return they’ll give us a -set of photographs. Their liberality is truly marvelous!”</p> - -<p>“Well, to tell you the truth,” said the colonel, “after -I found how anxious Eva was, I wouldn’t have dared<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -mention payment, for fear they might refuse to come -and this young lady’s life might be ruined in consequence!”</p> - -<p>“What outfit is it?” asked the son.</p> - -<p>“It’s a company from the K. K. S., directed by a man -by the name of Crumb.”</p> - -<p>“Wilson Crumb, the famous actor-director,” added -Eva. “How perfectly radiant! I danced with him in -Los Angeles a year ago.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s the fellow, is it?” said Custer. “I have -a hazy recollection that you were mad about him for -some fifteen minutes after you reached home, but I have -never heard you mention him since.”</p> - -<p>“Well, to tell you the truth,” said Eva, “I had forgotten -all about him until that perfectly gorgeous little loquacious -manager mentioned him.”</p> - -<p>“Location manager,” corrected her father.</p> - -<p>“He was both.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he was,” said the colonel. “I rather hope he -comes back. I haven’t enjoyed any one so much since -the days of Weber and Fields.”</p> - -<p>It was after eight o’clock when the Evanses arrived. -Mrs. Evans was genuinely affected at seeing Custer again, -for she was as fond of him as if he had been her own -son. In Guy, Custer discovered a great change. The -boy that he had left had become suddenly a man, quiet -and reserved, with a shadow of sadness in his expression. -His lesson had been a hard one, Custer knew, and the -price that he had had to pay for it had left its indelible -mark upon his sensitive character.</p> - -<p>Guy’s happiness at having Custer back again was overshadowed -to some extent by the shame that he must always -feel when he looked into the face of the man who -had shouldered his guilt and taken the punishment which -should have been his. The true purpose of Pennington’s -sacrifice could never alter young Evans’s realization of -the fact that the part he had been forced to take had -been that of a coward, a traitor, and a cad.</p> - -<p>The first greetings over, Mrs. Evans asked Custer if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span> -he had seen Grace before he left Los Angeles.</p> - -<p>“I saw her,” he said, “and she is not at all well. I -think Guy should go up there immediately, and try to -bring her back. I meant to speak to him about it this -evening.”</p> - -<p>“She is not seriously ill?” exclaimed Mrs. Evans.</p> - -<p>“I cannot say,” replied Custer. “I doubt if she is -seriously ill in a physical sense, but she is not well. I -could see that. She has changed a great deal. I think -you should lose no time, Guy,” he added, turning to -Grace’s brother, “in going to Los Angeles and getting -her. She has been gone almost a year. It is time she -knew whether her dreams are to come true or not. From -what I saw of her, I doubt if they have materialized.”</p> - -<p>“I will go to-morrow,” said young Evans.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">The</span> six months that had just passed had been months -of indecision and sadness for Shannon Burke. Constantly -moved by a conviction that she should leave the -vicinity of Ganado and the Penningtons, she was held -there by a force that she had not the power to overcome.</p> - -<p>Never before since she had left her mother’s home in -the Middle West had she experienced the peace and content -and happiness that her little orchard on the highway -imparted to her life. The friendship of the Penningtons -had meant more to her than anything that had hitherto -entered her life; and to be near them, even if she saw -them but seldom, constituted a constant bulwark against -the assaults of her old enemy, which still occasionally -assailed the ramparts of her will.</p> - -<p>After the departure of Custer she had conscientiously -observed what she considered to be his wishes as expressed -in his reference comparing her with the girl friend of -Cousin William, whom he had practically ordered out of -the house. She had as far as possible avoided Eva’s -society; and though contemplation of the cause of this -avoidance filled her with humiliation, and with a sense of -the injustice of all that it implied, she nevertheless -felt it a duty to the man she loved to respect his every -wish, however indirectly suggested.</p> - -<p>That she might put herself in Eva’s way as seldom as -possible, Shannon had formed the habit of riding at those -hours at which the Penningtons were not accustomed to -ride. The habit of solitude grew upon her, and she -loved the loneliness of the hills. They never oppressed -her—she never feared them. They drew her to them -and soothed her as a mother might have done. There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span> -she forgot her sorrows, and hope was stimulated to new -life.</p> - -<p>Especially when the old craving seized her did she -long for the hills, and it was because of this that she -first rode at night—on a night of brilliant moonlight that -imparted to familiar scenes the weird beauties of a -strange world. The experience was unique. It assumed -the proportions of an adventure, and it lured her to other -similar excursions.</p> - -<p>Even the Senator felt the spell of enchantment. He -stepped daintily with uppricked ears and arched neck, -peering nervously into the depth of each shadowy bush. -He leaped suddenly aside at the movement of a leaf, or -halted, trembling and snorting, at the moon-bathed outlines -of some jutting rock that he had passed a hundred -times, unmoved, by day.</p> - -<p>The moonlight rides led Shannon to others on moonless -nights, so that she was often in the saddle when the -valley slept. She invariably followed the same trail on -these occasions, with the result that both she and the -Senator knew every foot of it so well that they had -traversed it beneath the blackness of heavy clouds, or -when low fogs obliterated all but the nearest objects.</p> - -<p>Never, in the hills, could her mind dwell upon depressing -thoughts. Only cheerful reflections were her -companions of those hours of solitude. She thought of -the love that had come into her life, of the beauty -of it, and of all that it had done to make life more -worth the living; of the Penningtons and the example -of red-blooded cleanliness that they set—decency without -prudery; of her little orchard and the saving problems -it had brought to occupy her mind and hands; of her -horse and her horsemanship, two never-failing sources of -companionship and pleasure which the Penningtons had -taught her to love and enjoy.</p> - -<p>On the morning after Custer’s return, Guy started -early for Los Angeles, while Custer—Shannon not having -joined them on their morning ride—resaddled the Apache<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span> -after breakfast and rode down to her bungalow. He -both longed to see her and dreaded the meeting; for, regardless -of Grace’s attitude and of the repulse she had -given him, his honor bound him to her. Loyalty to the girl -had been engendered by long years of association, during -which friendship had grown into love by so gradual a -process that it seemed to each of them that there had -never been a time when they had not loved. Such attachments, -formed in the heart of youth, hallowed by -time, and fortified by the pride and honor of inherited -chivalry, become a part of the characters of their possessors, -and as difficult to uproot as those other habits -of thought and action which differentiate one individual -from another.</p> - -<p>Custer had realized, in that brief interview of the day -before, that Grace was not herself. What was the cause -of her change he could not guess, since he was entirely -unacquainted with the symptoms of narcotics. Even had -a suspicion of the truth entered his mind, he would have -discarded it as a vile slander upon the girl, as he had -rejected the involuntary suggestion that she might have -been drinking. His position was distressing for a man -to whom honor was a fetish, since he knew that he still -loved Grace, while at the same time realizing a still greater -love for Shannon.</p> - -<p>She saw him coming and came down the driveway -to meet him, her face radiant with the joy of his return, -and with that expression of love that is always patent to -all but the object of its concern.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Custer!” she cried. “I am so glad that you are -home again! It has seemed years and years, rather than -months, to all of us.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad to be home, Shannon. I have missed you, -too. I have missed you all—everything—the hills, the -valley, every horse and cow and little pig, the clean air, -the smell of flowers and sage—all that is Ganado.”</p> - -<p>“You like it better than the city?”</p> - -<p>“I shall never long for the city again,” he said. “Cities<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span> -are wonderful, of course, with their great buildings, their -parks and boulevards, their fine residences, their lawns -and gardens. The things that men have accomplished -there fill a fellow with admiration; but how pitiful they -really are compared with the magnificence that is ours!” -He turned and pointed toward the mountains. “Just -think of those hills, Shannon, and the infinite, unthinkable -power that uplifted such mighty monuments. Think -of the countless ages that they have endured, and then -compare them with the puny efforts of man. Compare -the range of vision of the city dweller with ours. He -can see across the street, and to the top of some tall -building, which may look imposing; but place it beside -one of our hills, and see what becomes of it. Place it -in a ravine in the high Sierras, and you would have difficulty -in finding it; and you cannot even think of it in -connection with a mountain fifteen or twenty thousand -feet in height. And yet the city man patronizes us -country people, deploring the necessity that compels us -to pursue our circumscribed existence.”</p> - -<p>“Pity him,” laughed Shannon. “He is as narrow as -his streets. His ideals can reach no higher than the pall -of smoke that hangs over the roofs of his buildings. I -am so glad, Custer, that you have given up the idea of -leaving the country for the city!”</p> - -<p>“I never really intended to,” he replied. “I couldn’t -have left, on father’s account; but now I can remain on -my own as well as his, and with a greater degree of contentment. -You see that my recent experience was a -blessing in disguise.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad if some good came out of it; but it was a -wicked injustice, and there were others as innocent as -you who suffered fully as much—Eva especially.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” he said. “She has been very lonely since I -left, with Grace away, too; and they tell me that you -have constantly avoided them. Why? I cannot understand -it.”</p> - -<p>He had dismounted and tied the Apache, and they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span> -were walking toward the porch. She stopped, and turned -to look Custer squarely in the eyes.</p> - -<p>“How could I have done otherwise?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“I do not understand,” he replied.</p> - -<p>She could not hold her eyes to his as she explained, -but looked down, her expression changing from happiness -to one of shame and sadness.</p> - -<p>“You forget that girl, the friend of Cousin William?” -she asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Shannon!” he cried, laying a hand impulsively -upon her arm. “I told you that I wouldn’t say that to -you. I didn’t want you to stay away. I have implicit -confidence in you.”</p> - -<p>“No,” she contradicted him. “In your heart you -thought it, and perhaps you were right.”</p> - -<p>“No,” he insisted. “Please don’t stay away—promise -me that you will not! You have hurt them all, and they -are all so fond of you!”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry, Custer. I would not hurt them. I love -them all; but I thought I was doing the thing that you -wished. There was so much that you did not understand—that -you can never understand—and you were away -where you couldn’t know what was going on; so it seemed -disloyal to do the thing I thought you would rather I -didn’t do.”</p> - -<p>“It’s all over now,” he said. “Let’s start over again, -forgetting all that has happened in the last six months -and a half.”</p> - -<p>Again, as his hand lay upon her arm, he was seized -with an almost uncontrollable desire to crush her to -him. Two things deterred him—his loyalty to Grace, and -the belief that his love would be unwelcome to Shannon.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Guy Evans</span> swept over the broad, smooth highway -at a rate that would have won him ten days in the jail -at Santa Ana had his course led him through that village. -The impression that Custer’s words had implanted in his -mind was that Grace was ill, for Pennington had not -gone into the details of his unhappy interview with -the girl, choosing to leave to her brother a realization of -her changed condition, which would have been incredible -to him even from the lips of so trusted a friend as Custer.</p> - -<p>And so it was that when he approached the bungalow -on Circle Terrace, and saw a coupé standing at the curb, -he guessed at what it portended; for though there were -doubtless hundreds of similar cars in the city, there was -that about this one which suggested the profession of its -owner. As Guy hurried up the walk to the front door, -he was as positive that he would find Grace ill and a -doctor in attendance, as if some one had already told -him so.</p> - -<p>There was no response to his ring, and as the inner -door was open he entered. A door on the opposite side -of the living room was ajar. As Guy approached it, a -man appeared in the doorway, and beyond him the visitor -could see Grace lying, very white and still, upon a bed.</p> - -<p>“Who are you—this woman’s husband?” demanded -the man in curt tones.</p> - -<p>“I am her brother. What is the matter? Is she very -ill?”</p> - -<p>“Did you know of her condition?”</p> - -<p>“I heard last night that she was not well, and I hurried -up here. I live in the country. Who are you? What -has happened? She is not—my God, she is <span class="locked">not——”</span></p> - -<p>“Not yet. Perhaps we can save her. I am a doctor.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span> -I was called by a Japanese, who said that he was a servant -here. He must have left after he called me, for -I have not seen him. Her condition is serious, and requires -an immediate operation—an operation of such a -nature that I must learn the name of her own physician -and have him present. Where is her husband?”</p> - -<p>“Husband! My sister is not——” Guy ceased speaking, -and went suddenly white. “My God, doctor, you -don’t mean that she—that my sister—oh, no, not that!”</p> - -<p>He seized the other’s arm beseechingly. The doctor -laid his hand upon the younger man’s shoulder.</p> - -<p>“She had a fall night before last, and an immediate -operation is imperative. Her condition is such that we -cannot even take the risk of moving her to a hospital. I -have my instruments in my car, but I should have help. -Who is her doctor?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll get some one. I have given her something to -quiet her.”</p> - -<p>The doctor stepped to the telephone and gave a number. -Evans entered the room where his sister lay. She -was moving about restlessly and moaning, though it was -evident that she was still unconscious.</p> - -<p>Changed! Guy wondered that he had known her at -all, now that he was closer to her. Her face was pinched -and drawn. Her beauty was gone—every vestige of it. -She looked old and tired and haggard, and there were -terrible lines upon her face that stilled her brother’s -heart and brought the tears to his eyes.</p> - -<p>He heard the doctor summoning an assistant and directing -him to bring ether. Then he heard him go out -of the house by the front door—to get his instruments, -doubtless. The brother knelt by the girl’s bed.</p> - -<p>“Grace!” he whispered, and threw an arm about her.</p> - -<p>Her lids fluttered, and she opened her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Guy!”</p> - -<p>She recognized him—she was conscious.</p> - -<p>“Who did this?” he demanded. “What is his name?”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span></p> - -<p>She shook her head.</p> - -<p>“What is the use?” she asked. “It is done.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me!”</p> - -<p>“You would kill him—and be punished. It would -only make it worse—for—you—and mother. Let it -die with me!”</p> - -<p>“You are not going to die. Tell me, who is he? Do -you love him?”</p> - -<p>“I hate him!”</p> - -<p>“How were you injured?”</p> - -<p>“He threw me—against—a table.”</p> - -<p>Her voice was growing weaker. Choking back tears -of grief and anger, the young man rose and stood beside -her.</p> - -<p>“Grace, I command you to tell me!”</p> - -<p>His voice was low, but it was vibrant with power and -authority. The girl tried to speak. Her lips moved, but -she uttered no sound. Guy thought that she was dying, -and taking her secret to the grave.</p> - -<p>Her eyes moved to something beyond the foot of the -bed, back to his, and back again to whatever she had -been looking at, as if she sought to direct his attention to -something in that part of the room. He followed the -direction of her gaze. There was a dressing table there, -and on it a photograph of a man in a silver frame. Guy -stepped to the table and picked up the picture.</p> - -<p>“This is he?”</p> - -<p>His eyes demanded an answer. Her lips moved soundlessly, -and weakly she nodded an affirmative.</p> - -<p>“What is his name?”</p> - -<p>She was too weak to answer him. She gasped, and -her breath came flutteringly. The brother threw himself -upon his knees beside the bed, and took her in his arms. -His tears mingled with his kisses on her cheek. The -doctor came then and drew him away.</p> - -<p>“She is dead!” said the boy, turning away and covering -his face with his hands.</p> - -<p>“No,” said the doctor, after a brief examination. “She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -is not dead. Get into the kitchen, and get some water -to boiling. I’ll be getting things ready in here. Another -doctor will be here in a few minutes.”</p> - -<p>Glad of something to do, just to help, Guy hastened -into the little kitchen. He found a kettle and a large -pan, and put water in them to boil.</p> - -<p>A moment later the doctor came in. He had removed -his coat and vest and rolled up his sleeves. He placed -his instruments in the pan of water on the stove, and -then he went to the sink and washed his hands. While -he scrubbed, he talked. He was an efficient-looking, -businesslike person, and he inspired Guy with confidence -and hope.</p> - -<p>“She has a fighting chance,” he said. “I’ve seen -worse cases pull through. She’s had a bad time, though. -She must have been lying here for pretty close to twenty-four -hours without any attention. I found her fully -dressed on her bed—fully dressed except for what -clothes she’d torn off in her pain. If some one had called -a doctor yesterday at this time, it might have been all -right. It may be all right even now. We’ll do the best -we can.”</p> - -<p>The bell rang.</p> - -<p>“That’s the doctor. Let him in, please.”</p> - -<p>Guy went to the door and admitted the second physician, -who removed his coat and vest and went directly -to the kitchen. The first doctor was entering the room -where Grace lay. He turned and spoke to his colleague, -greeting him; then he disappeared within the adjoining -room. The second doctor busied himself about the sink, -sterilizing his hands. Guy lighted another burner and -put on another vessel with water in it.</p> - -<p>A moment later the first doctor returned to the kitchen.</p> - -<p>“It will not be necessary to operate, doctor,” he said. -“We were too late!”</p> - -<p>His tone and manner were still very businesslike and -efficient, but there was an expression of compassion in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span> -his eyes as he crossed the room and put his arm about -Guy’s shoulders.</p> - -<p>“Come into the other room, my boy. I want to talk -to you,” he said.</p> - -<p>Guy, dry-eyed, and walking almost as one in a trance, -accompanied him to the little living room.</p> - -<p>“You have had a hard blow,” said the doctor. “What -I am going to tell you may make it harder; but if she had -been my sister I should have wanted to know about it. -She is better off. The chances are that she didn’t want -to live. She certainly made no fight for life—not since -I was called.”</p> - -<p>“Why should she want to die?” Guy asked dully. “We -would have forgiven her. No one would ever have known -about it but me.”</p> - -<p>“There was something else—she was a drug addict. -That was probably the reason why she didn’t want to -live. The morphine I had to give her to quiet her would -have killed three ordinary men.”</p> - -<p>And so Guy Evans came to know the terrible fate -that had robbed his sister of her dreams, of her ambition, -and finally of her life. He placed the full responsibility -upon the man whose picture had stood in its silver frame -upon the girl’s dressing table. As he knelt beside the -dead girl, he swore to search until he had learned the -identity of that man, and found him, and forced from -him the only expiation that could satisfy the honor of a -brother.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">The</span> death of Grace had, of course, its naturally depressing -effect upon the circle of relatives and friends -at Ganado; but her absence of more than a year, the infrequency -of her letters, and the fact that they had already -come to feel that she was lost to them, mitigated to -some degree the keenness of their grief and lessened its -outward manifestations. Her pitiful end could not seriously -interrupt the tenor of their lives, which had long -since grown over the wound of her departure, as a tree’s -growth rolls over the hurt of a severed limb, leaving only -a scar as a reminder of its loss.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Evans, Guy and Custer suffered more than the -others—Mrs. Evans because of the natural instincts of -motherhood, and Custer from a sense of loss that seemed -to have uprooted and torn away a part of his being, even -though he realized that his love for Grace had been of -a different sort from his hopeless passion for Shannon -Burke. It was Guy who suffered most, for hugged to -his breast was the gnawing secret of the truth of his -sister’s life and death. He had told them that Grace had -died of pneumonia, and they had not gone behind his -assertion to search the records for the truth.</p> - -<p>Locked in his desk was the silver frame and the picture -of the man whose identity he had been unable to -discover. The bungalow had been leased in Grace’s name. -The Japanese servant had disappeared, and Guy had -been unable to obtain any trace of him. The dead girl -had had no friends in the neighborhood, and there was -no one who could tell him anything that might lead to -the discovery of the man he sought.</p> - -<p>He did not, however, give up his search. He went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span> -often to Hollywood, where he haunted public places and -the entrances to studios, in the hope that some day he -would find the man he sought; but as the passing months -brought no success, and the duties of his ranch and his -literary work demanded more and more of his time, he -was gradually compelled to push the furtherance of his -vengeance into the background, though without any lessening -of his determination to compass it eventually.</p> - -<p>To Custer, the direct effect of Grace’s death was to -revive the habit of drinking more than was good for him—a -habit from which he had drifted away during the -past year. That it had ever been a habit he would, of -course, have been the last to admit. He was one of those -men who could drink, or leave it alone. The world is -full of them, and so are the cemeteries.</p> - -<p>Custer avoided Shannon when he could do so without -seeming unfriendly. Quite unreasonably, he felt that -his love for Shannon was an indication of disloyalty -to Grace. The latter’s dismissal of him he had never -taken as a serious avowal of her heart. He had realized -that the woman who had spoken so bitterly had not been -the girl he had loved, and whose avowals of love he had -listened to. Nor had she been the girl upon whose sad, -tired face he had looked for the last time in the darkened -living room of the Evans home, for then death had -softened the hard lines of dissipation, revealing again, -in chastened melancholy, the soul that sin had disguised -but not destroyed.</p> - -<p>Shannon recognized the change in Custer. She attributed -it to his grief, and to his increased drinking, -which she had sensed almost immediately, as love does -sense the slightest change in its object, however little apparent -to another. She did not realize that she was purposely -avoiding her. She was more than ever with Eva -now, for Guy, having settled down to the serious occupations -of man’s estate, no longer had so much leisure -to devote to play.</p> - -<p>She still occasionally rode at night, for the daytime<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span> -rides with Custer were less frequent now. Much of his -time was occupied closer in around the ranch, with the -conditioning of the show herds for the coming fall—an -activity which gave him a plausible excuse for foregoing -his rides with Shannon. The previous year they had been -compelled to cancel their entries because of Custer’s imprisonment, -since the colonel would not make the circuit -of the shows himself, and did not care to trust the herds -to any one but his son. Now the Morgans, the Percherons, -the Herefords, and the Berkshires that were to -uphold the fame of Ganado were the center of arduous -and painstaking fitting and grooming, as the time approached -when the finishing touches were to be put upon -glossy coat and polished horn and hoof.</p> - -<p>May, June, and July had come and gone—it was -August again. Guy’s futile visits to Los Angeles were -now infrequent. The life of Ganado had again assumed -the cheerfulness of the past. The heat of summer had -brought the swimming pool into renewed demand, and -the cool evenings saved the ballroom from desertion. The -youth of the foothills and valley, reënforced by weekend -visitors from the city, filled the old house with -laughter and happiness. Shannon was always of these -parties, for they would not let her remain away.</p> - -<p>It was upon the occasion of one of them, early in -August, that Eva announced the date of her wedding to -Guy.</p> - -<p>“The 2nd of September,” she told them. “It comes -on a Saturday. We’re going to motor <span class="locked">to——”</span></p> - -<p>“Hold on!” cautioned Guy. “That’s a secret!”</p> - -<p>“And when we come back we’re going to start building -on Hill Thirteen.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a cow pasture,” said Custer.</p> - -<p>“Well, it won’t be one any more. You must find another -cow pasture.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, little one,” replied her brother. “We’ll -bring the cows up here in the ballroom. With five thousand -acres to pick from, you can’t find a bungalow site<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span> -anywhere except in the best dairy cow pasture on -Ganado!”</p> - -<p>“With five thousand acres to pick from, I suppose you -can’t find a cow pasture anywhere but on the best bungalow -site in southern California! You radiant brother! -You wouldn’t have your little sister living in the hog -pasture, now would you?”</p> - -<p>“Heavens, no! Those nine children you aspire to -would annoy the brood sows.”</p> - -<p>“You’re hideous!”</p> - -<p>“Put on a fox trot, some one,” cried Guy. “Dance -with your sister, Cus, and you’ll let her build bungalows -all over Ganado. No one can refuse her anything when -they dance with her.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll say they can’t,” agreed Custer. “Was that how -she lured you to your undoing, Guy?”</p> - -<p>“What a dapper little idea!” exclaimed Eva.</p> - -<p>Guy danced that dance with Mrs. Pennington, and the -colonel took out Shannon. As they moved over the -smooth floor with the easy dignity that good dancers can -impart to the fox trot, the girl’s eyes were often on the -brother and sister dancing and laughing together.</p> - -<p>“How wonderful they are!” she said.</p> - -<p>“Who?” inquired the colonel.</p> - -<p>“Custer and Eva. Theirs is such a wonderful relationship -between brother and sister—the way it ought -to be, but very seldom is.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know that it’s unique,” replied the colonel. -“Guy and Grace were that way, and so were my father’s -children. Possibly it’s because we were all raised in the -country, where children are more dependent upon their -sisters and brothers for companionship than children of -the city. We all get better acquainted in the country, -and we have to learn to find the best that is in each of us, -for we haven’t the choice of companions here that a -city, with its thousands, affords.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said Shannon. “Perhaps that is it; -but anyway it is lovely—really <em>lovely</em>, for they are almost<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span> -like two lovers. At first, when I heard them teasing -each other, I used to think there might be some bitterness -in their thrusts; but when I came to know you all better, -I realized that your affection was so perfect that there -could never be any misunderstanding among you.”</p> - -<p>“That attitude is not peculiar to the Penningtons,” replied -the colonel. “I know, for instance, of one who so -perfectly harmonized with their lives and ideals that -in less than a year she became practically one of them.”</p> - -<p>He was smiling down into Shannon’s upturned face.</p> - -<p>“I know—you mean me,” she said. “It is awfully nice -of you, and it makes me very proud to hear you say so, -for I have really tried to be like you. If I have succeeded -the least bit, I am so happy!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know that you have succeeded in being like -us,” he laughed; “but you have certainly succeeded in -being liked <em>by</em> us. Why, do you know, Shannon, I believe -Mrs. Pennington and I discuss you and plan for you -fully as much as we do the children. It is almost as if -you were our other daughter.”</p> - -<p>The tears came to her eyes.</p> - -<p>“I am so happy!” she said again.</p> - -<p>It was later in the evening, after a dance, that she and -Custer walked out on the driveway along the north side -of the ballroom, and stood looking out over the moon-enchanted -valley—a vista of loveliness glimpsed between -masses of feathery foliage in an opening through the -trees on the hillside just below them. They looked out -across the acacias and cedars of the lower hill toward -the lights of a little village twinkling between two dome-like -hills at the upper end of the valley. It was an unusually -warm evening, almost too warm to dance.</p> - -<p>“I think we’d get a little of the ocean breeze,” said -Custer, “if we were on the other side of the hill. Let’s -walk over to the water gardens. There is usually a breeze -there, but the building cuts us off from it here.”</p> - -<p>Side by side, in silence, they walked around the front -of the building and along the south drive to the steps<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span> -leading down through the water gardens to the stables. -The steps were narrow and Custer went ahead—which is -always the custom of men in countries where there are -rattlesnakes.</p> - -<p>As Shannon stepped from the cement steps to the -gravel walk above the first pool, her foot came down -upon a round stone, turning her ankle and throwing her -against Custer. For support she grasped his arm. Upon -such insignificant trifles may the fate of lives depend. -It might have been a lizard, a toad, a mouse, or even -a rattlesnake that precipitated the moment which, for -countless eons, creation had been preparing; but it was -none of these. It was just a little round pebble—and it -threw Shannon Burke against Custer Pennington, causing -her to seize his arm. He felt the contact of those -fingers, and the warmth of her body, and her cheek near -his shoulder. He threw an arm about her to support -her.</p> - -<p>Almost instantly she had regained her footing. Laughingly -she drew away.</p> - -<p>“I stepped on a stone,” she said in explanation; “but -I didn’t hurt my ankle.”</p> - -<p>But still he kept his arm about her. At first Shannon -did not understand, and, supposing that he still -thought her unable to stand alone, she again explained -that she was unhurt.</p> - -<p>He stood looking down into her face, which was turned -up to his. The moon, almost full, revealed her features -as clearly as sunlight—how beautiful they were, and -how close. She had not yet fully realized the significance -of his attitude when he suddenly threw his other arm -about her and crushed her to him; and then, before she -could prevent, he had bent his lips to hers and kissed -her full upon the mouth.</p> - -<p>With a startled cry she pushed him away.</p> - -<p>“Custer!” she said. “What have you done? This is -not like you. I do not understand!”</p> - -<p>She was really terrified—terrified at the thought that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span> -he might have kissed her without love—terrified that he -might have kissed her <em>with</em> love. She did not know which -would be the greater catastrophe.</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t help it, Shannon,” he said. “Blame the -pebble, blame the moonlight, blame me—it won’t make -any difference. I couldn’t help it; that is all there is to -it. I’ve fought against it for months. I knew you -didn’t love me; but, oh, Shannon, I love you! I had to -tell you.”</p> - -<p>He loved her! He had loved her for months! Oh, -the horror of it! Her little dream of happiness was shattered. -No longer could they go on as they had. There -would always be this between them—the knowledge of his -love; and he would learn of her love for him, for she -would not lie to him if he asked her. Then she would -either have to explain or to go away—to explain those -hideous months with Crumb. Custer would not believe -the truth—no man would believe the truth—that she had -come through them undefiled. She herself would not -believe it of another woman, and she was too sophisticated -to hope that the man who loved her would believe -it of her.</p> - -<p>He had not let her go. They still stood there—his arms -about her.</p> - -<p>“Please don’t be angry, Shannon,” he begged. “You -may not want my love, but there’s no disgrace in it. -Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I couldn’t -help it, and I’m glad I did. I have that to remember as -long as I live. Please don’t be angry!”</p> - -<p>Angry! She wished to God that he would crush her -to him again and kiss her—kiss her—kiss like that now -and forever. Why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t she let -him? What had she done to deserve eternal punishment? -There were countless wives less virtuous than she. Ah, -if she could but have the happiness of his love!</p> - -<p>She closed her eyes and turned away her head, and for -just an instant she dreamed her beautiful dream. Why -not? Why not? Why not? There could be no better<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -wife than she, for there could be no greater love than -hers.</p> - -<p>He noticed that she no longer drew away. There had -been no look of anger in her eyes—only startled questioning; -and her face was still so near. Again his arms -closed about her, and again his lips found hers.</p> - -<p>This time she did not deny him. She was only human—only -a woman—and her love, growing steadily in -power for many months, had suddenly burst forth in a -consuming fire beneath his burning kisses. He felt her -lips move in a fluttering sob beneath his, and then her -dear arms stole up about his neck and pressed him closer -in complete surrender.</p> - -<p>“Shannon! You love me?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, dear boy, always!”</p> - -<p>He drew her to the lower end of a pool, where a rustic -seat stood half concealed by the foliage of a drooping -umbrella tree. There they sat and asked each other the -same questions that lovers have asked since prehistoric -man first invented speech, and that lovers will continue to -ask so long as speech exists upon earth; very important -questions—by far the most important questions in the -world.</p> - -<p>They did not know how long they had sat there—to -them it seemed but a moment—when they heard voices -calling their names from above.</p> - -<p>“Shannon! Custer! Where are you?”</p> - -<p>It was Eva calling.</p> - -<p>“I suppose we’ll have to go,” he said. “Just one more -kiss!”</p> - -<p>He took a dozen; and then they rose and walked up the -steps to the south drive.</p> - -<p>“Shall I tell them?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Not yet, please.”</p> - -<p>She was not sure that it would last. Such happiness -was too sweet to endure.</p> - -<p>Eva spied them.</p> - -<p>“Where in the world have you two been?” she demanded.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -“We’ve been hunting all over for you, and -shouting until I’m hoarse.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve been right down there by the upper pool, trying -to cool off,” replied Custer. “It’s too beastly hot -to dance.”</p> - -<p>“You never thought so before,” said Eva suspiciously. -“Do you know, I believe you two have been off spooning! -How perfectly gorgeristic!”</p> - -<p>“How perfectly nothing,” replied Custer. “Old -people, like Shannon and me, don’t spoon. That’s for -you kids.”</p> - -<p>Eva came closer.</p> - -<p>“Shannon, you’d better go and straighten your hair before -any one else sees you.” She laughed and pinched the -other’s arm. “I’d love it,” she whispered in Shannon’s -ear, “if it were true! You’ll tell me, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>“If it ever comes true, dear”—Shannon returned the -whisper—“you shall be the first to know about it.”</p> - -<p>“Scrumptious! But say, I’ve got the divinest news—what -do you think? Popsy has known it all day and -never mentioned it—forgot all about it, he said, until -just before he and mother trotted off to bed. Did you -ever hear of anything so outrageous? And now half the -folks have gone home, and I can’t tell ’em. Oh, it’s too -spiffy for words! I’ve been longing and longing for it -for months and months and months, and now it’s going -to happen—really going to happen—actually going to -happen on Monday!”</p> - -<p>“For Heaven’s sake, little one, unwind, and get to the -end of your harrowing story. What’s going to happen?”</p> - -<p>“Why, the K. K. S. company is coming on Monday, -and Wilson Crumb is coming with them!”</p> - -<p>Shannon staggered almost as from the force of a -physical blow. Wilson Crumb coming! Coming to -Ganado! Short indeed had been her sweet happiness!</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, Shannon?” asked Custer solicitously.</p> - -<p>The girl steadied herself quickly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, with a nervous laugh. “I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span> -just felt a little dizzy for a moment.”</p> - -<p>“You had better go in the house and lie down,” he -suggested.</p> - -<p>“No, I think I’ll go home, if you’ll drive me down, -Custer. You know ten o’clock is pretty late for us.”</p> - -<p>“It’s Saturday night,” said Eva.</p> - -<p>“But I don’t want to miss my ride in the morning. -You’re all going, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“I am,” said Custer.</p> - -<p>He noticed that she was very quiet as they drove down -to her place, and when they parted she clung to him as -if she could not bear to let him go.</p> - -<p>It was very wonderful—the miracle of this great love. -As he drove back home, he could not think of anything -else. He was not egotistical, and it seemed strange that -from all the men she must have known Shannon had kept -her love for him. With Grace it had been different. Their -love had grown up with them from childhood. It had -seemed no more remarkable that Grace should love him -than that Eva should love him, or that he should love -Grace; but Shannon had come to him out of a strange -world—a world full of men—where, with her beauty -and her charm, she must have been an object of admiration -to many. Yet she had brought her heart to him -intact; for she had told him that she had never loved -another—and she had told him the truth.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">After</span> Custer left her, Shannon entered the bungalow -and sat for a long time before the table on which stood -a framed photograph of her mother. Never before had -she felt the need of loving counsel so sorely as now. In -almost any other emergency she could have gone to Mrs. -Pennington, but in this she dared not. She knew the -pride of the Penningtons. She realized the high altar -upon which they placed the purity of their women in -the sacred temple of their love, and she knew that none -but the pure might enter.</p> - -<p>In her heart of hearts she knew that she had the right -to stand there beside his mother or his sister; but the -pity of it was that she could never prove that right, for -who would believe her? Men had been hanged upon -circumstantial evidence less damning than that which -might be arrayed against her purity. No—if ever they -should learn of her association with Wilson Crumb, they -would cast her out of their lives as they would put a leper -out of their home.</p> - -<p>Not even Custer’s love could survive such a blow to his -honor and his pride. She did not think the less of him -because of that, for she was wise enough in the ways of -the world to know that pride and virtue are oftentimes -uncompromising, even to narrowness.</p> - -<p>Her only hope, therefore, lay in avoiding discovery by -Wilson Crumb during his stay at Ganado. Her love, -and the weakness it had induced, permitted her to accept -the happiness from which an unkind fate had hitherto -debarred her, and to which even now her honor told -her she had no right.</p> - -<p>She wished that Custer had not loved her, and that she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span> -might have continued to live the life that she had learned -to love, where she might be near him, and might constantly -see him in the happy consociation of friendship; -but with his arms about her and his kisses on her lips -she had not had the strength to deny him, or to dissimulate -the great love which had ordered her very existence -for many months.</p> - -<p>In the brief moments of bliss that had followed the -avowal of his love, she had permitted herself to drift -without thought of the future; but now that the sudden -knowledge of the approaching arrival of Crumb had -startled her into recollection of the past and consideration -of its bearings upon the future, she realized only too -poignantly that the demands of honor required that -sooner or later she herself must tell Custer the whole -sordid story of those hideous months in Hollywood. -There was no other way. She could not mate with a -man unless she could match her honor with his. There -was no alternative other than to go away forever.</p> - -<p>It was midnight before she arose and went to her -room. She went deliberately to a drawer which she kept -locked, and, finding the key, she opened it. From it she -took the little black case, and, turning back the cover, she -revealed the phials, the needles, and the tiny syringe that -had played so sinister a part in her past.</p> - -<p>What she was doing to-night she had done so often -in the past year that it had almost assumed the proportions -of a rite. It had been her wont to parade her -tempters before her, that she might have the satisfaction -of deriding them, and of proving the strength of the new -will that her love for Custer Pennington had been so -potent a factor in developing. To-night she went a little -further. She took a bit of cotton, and, placing it in the -bowl of a spoon, she dissolved some of the white powder -with the aid of a lighted match held beneath the spoon, -and then she drew the liquid into the syringe.</p> - -<p>Her nerves were overwrought and unstrung from the -stress of the conflicting emotions they had endured that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span> -evening and the risk she took was greater than she -guessed. And yet, as she looked at the syringe, and realized -that its contents held surcease of sorrow, that it -held quiet and rest and peace, she felt only repugnance -toward it. Not even remotely did she consider the possibility -of resorting again to the false happiness of -morphine.</p> - -<p>She knew now that she was freer from its temptations -than one who had never used it; but she felt that after -to-night, with the avowal of Pennington’s love still in -her ears, she must no longer keep in her possession a -thing so diametrically opposed to the cleanliness of his -life and his character. For months she had retained it -as a part of the system she had conceived for ridding -herself of its power. Without it she might never have -known whether she could withstand the temptation of -its presence; but now she had finished with it. She needed -it no longer.</p> - -<p>With almost fanatical savagery she destroyed it, -crushing the glass phials and the syringe beneath her -heel and tearing the little case to shreds. Then, gathering -up the fragments, she carried them to the fireplace -in the living room and burned them.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>On the following day the horses and several loads of -properties from the K. K. S. studio arrived at Ganado, -and the men who accompanied them pitched their camp -well up in Jackknife Cañon. Eva was very much excited, -and spent much of her time on horseback, watching their -preparations. She tried to get Shannon to accompany -her, but the latter found various excuses to remain away, -being fearful that even though Crumb had not yet arrived, -there might be other employees of the studio who -would recognize her.</p> - -<p>Crumb and the rest of the company came in the -afternoon, although they had not been expected until -the following day. Eva, who had made Custer ride up -again with her in the afternoon, recalled to the actor-director<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span> -the occasion upon which she had met him, and -they had danced together, some year and a half before.</p> - -<p>As soon as he met her, Crumb was struck by her -beauty, youth, and freshness. He saw in her a possible -means of relieving the tedium of his several weeks’ enforced -absence from Hollywood—though in the big -brother he realized a possible obstacle, unless he were -able to carry on his purposed gallantries clandestinely.</p> - -<p>In the course of conversation he took occasion to remark -that Eva ought to photograph well. “I’ll let them -take a hundred feet of you,” he said, “some day when -you’re up here while we’re working. We might discover -an unsung Pickford up here among the hills!”</p> - -<p>“She will remain unsung, then,” said Custer curtly. -“My sister has no desire to go into pictures.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know I haven’t?” asked Eva.</p> - -<p>“After Grace?” he asked significantly.</p> - -<p>She turned to Crumb.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I wouldn’t make much of an actress,” she -said; “but it would be perfectly radiant to see myself in -pictures just once!”</p> - -<p>“Good!” he replied. “We’ll get you all right some day -that you’re up here. I promise your brother that I won’t -try to persuade you into pictures.”</p> - -<p>“I hope not,” said Custer.</p> - -<p>As he and Eva rode back toward the house, he turned -to the girl.</p> - -<p>“I don’t like that fellow Crumb,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Why?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“It’s hard to say. He just rubs me the wrong way; -but I’d bet almost anything that he’s a cad.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I think he’s perfectly divine!” said Eva with her -usual enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>Custer grunted.</p> - -<p>“The trouble with you,” announced Eva, “is that you’re -jealous of him because he’s an actor. That’s just like -you men!”</p> - -<p>Custer laughed.</p> - -<p>“Maybe you’re right,” he said; “but I don’t like him,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span> -and I hope you’ll never go up there alone.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m going to see them take pictures,” replied -the girl; “and if I can’t get any one to go with me, I’m -going alone.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like the way he looked at you, Eva.”</p> - -<p>“You’re perfectly silly! He didn’t look at me any -differently than any other man does.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know about that. I haven’t the same keen -desire to punch the head of every man I see looking at -you as I had in his case.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’re prejudiced! I’ll bet anything he’s just -perfectly lovely!”</p> - -<p>Next morning, finding no one with the leisure or inclination -to ride with her, Eva rode up again to the camp. -They had already commenced shooting. Although Crumb -was busy, he courteously took the time to explain the -scene on which they were working, and many of the -technical details of picture making. He had a man -hold her horse while she came and squinted through the -finder. In fact, he spent so much time with her that he -materially delayed the work of the morning. At the -same time the infatuation that had had its birth on the -preceding day grew to greater proportions in his diseased -mind.</p> - -<p>He asked her to stay and lunch with them. When -she insisted that she must return home, he begged her to -come again in the afternoon. Although she would have -been glad to do so, for she found the work that they -were doing novel and interesting, she declined his invitation, -as she already had made arrangements for the -afternoon.</p> - -<p>He followed her to her horse, and walked beside her -down the road a short distance from the others.</p> - -<p>“If you can’t come down this afternoon,” he said, -“possibly you can come up this evening. We are going to -take some night pictures. I hadn’t intended inviting any -one, because the work is going to be rather difficult and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span> -dangerous, and an audience might distract the attention -of the actors; but if you think you could get away alone, -I should be very glad to have you come up for a few -minutes about nine o’clock. We shall be working in -the same place. Don’t forget,” he repeated, as she started -to ride away, “that for this particular scene I really -ought not to have any audience at all; so if you come, -please don’t tell any one else about it.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll come,” she said. “It’s awfully good of you to -ask me, and I won’t tell a soul.”</p> - -<p>Crumb smiled as he turned back to his waiting company.</p> - -<p>Brought up in the atmosphere that had surrounded -her since birth, unacquainted with any but honorable men, -and believing as she did that all men are the chivalrous -protectors of all women, Eva did not suspect the guile -that lay behind the director’s courteous manner and fair -words. She looked upon the coming nocturnal visit to -the scene of their work as nothing more than a harmless -adventure; nor was there, from her experience, any -cause for apprehension, since the company comprised -some forty or fifty men and women who, like any one -else, would protect her from any harm that lay in their -power to avert.</p> - -<p>Her conscience did not trouble her in the least, although -she regretted that she could not share her good fortune -with the other members of her family, and deplored the -necessity of leaving the house surreptitiously, like a thief -in the night. Such things did not appeal to Pennington -standards; but Eva satisfied these qualms by promising -herself that she would tell them all about it at breakfast -the next morning.</p> - -<p>After lunch that day Custer went to his room, and, -throwing himself on his bed with a book, with the intention -of reading for half an hour, fell asleep.</p> - -<p>Shortly afterward Shannon Burke, feeling that there -would be no danger of meeting any of the K. K. S. people -at the Pennington house, rode up on the Senator to keep<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span> -her appointment with Eva. As she tied her horse upon -the north side of the house, Wilson Crumb stopped his -car opposite the patio at the south drive. He had come -up to see Colonel Pennington for the purpose of arranging -for the use of a number of the Ganado Herefords in -a scene on the following day.</p> - -<p>Not finding Eva in the family sitting room, Shannon -passed through the house and out into the patio, just as -Wilson Crumb mounted the two steps to the arcade. -Before either realized the presence of the other they -were face to face, scarce a yard apart.</p> - -<p>Shannon went deathly white as she recognized the man -beneath his make-up, while Crumb stood speechless for -a moment.</p> - -<p>“My God, Gaza. You!” he presently managed to -exclaim. “What are you doing here? Thank God I -have found you at last!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t!” she begged. “Please don’t speak to me. I -am living a decent life here.”</p> - -<p>He laughed in a disagreeable manner.</p> - -<p>“Decent!” he scoffed. “Where you getting the snow? -Who’s putting up for it?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t use it any more,” she said.</p> - -<p>“The hell you don’t! You can’t put that over on me! -Some other guy is furnishing it. I know you—you can’t -get along two hours without it. I’m not going to stand -for this. There isn’t any guy going to steal my girl!”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Wilson!” she cautioned. “For God’s sake keep -still! Some one might hear you.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t give a damn who hears me. I’m here to tell -the world that no one is going to take my girl away from -me. I’ve found you, and you’re going back with me, do -you understand?”</p> - -<p>She came very close to him, her eyes blazing wrathfully.</p> - -<p>“I’m not going back with you, Wilson Crumb,” she -said. “If you tell, or if you ever threaten me again in -any way, I’ll kill you. I managed to escape you, and I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span> -have found happiness at last, and no one shall take it -away from me!”</p> - -<p>“What about my happiness? You lived with me two -years. I love you, and, by God, I’m going to have you, if -I have <span class="locked">to——”</span></p> - -<p>A door slammed behind them, and they both turned to -see Custer Pennington standing in the arcade outside his -door, looking at them.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” he said, his voice chilling. “Did -I interrupt?”</p> - -<p>“This man is looking for some one, Custer,” said -Shannon, and turned to reënter the house.</p> - -<p>Confronted by a man, Crumb’s bravado had vanished. -Intuitively he guessed that he was looking at the man -who had stolen Gaza from him; but he was a very big -young man, with broad shoulders and muscles that his -flannel shirt and riding breeches did not conceal. Crumb -decided that if he was going to have trouble with this -man, it would be safer to commence hostilities at a time -when the other was not looking.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said. “I was looking for your father, Mr. -Pennington.”</p> - -<p>“Father is not here. He has driven over to the village. -What do you want?”</p> - -<p>“I wanted to see if I could arrange for the use of some -of your Herefords to-morrow morning.”</p> - -<p>Pennington was leading the way toward Crumb’s car.</p> - -<p>“You can find out about that,” he said, “or anything -else that you may wish to know, from the assistant foreman, -whom you will usually find up at the other end, -around the cabin. If he is in doubt about anything, he -will consult with us personally; so that it will not be -necessary, Mr. Crumb, for you to go to the trouble of -coming to the house again.”</p> - -<p>Custer’s voice was level and low. It carried no suggestion -of anger, yet there was that about it which convinced -Crumb that he was fortunate in not having been -kicked off the hill physically rather than verbally—for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span> -kicked off he had been, and advised to stay off, into the -bargain.</p> - -<p>He wondered how much Pennington had overheard -of his conversation with Gaza. Shannon Burke, crouching -in a big chair in the sitting room, was wondering the -same thing.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, Custer had overheard practically -all of the conversation. The noise of Crumb’s car had -awakened him, but almost immediately he had fallen into -a doze, through which the spoken words impinged upon -his consciousness without any actual, immediate realization -of their meaning, of the identity of the speakers. The -moment that he became fully awake, and found that he -was listening to a conversation not intended for his -ears, he had risen and gone into the patio.</p> - -<p>When finally he came into the sitting room, where -Shannon was, he made no mention of the occurrence, except -to say that the visitor had wanted to see his father. -It did not seem possible to Shannon that he could have -failed to overhear at least a part of their conversation, -for they were standing not more than a couple of yards -from the open window of his bedroom, and there was -no other sound breaking the stillness of the August noon. -She was sure that he had heard, and yet his manner indicated -that he had not.</p> - -<p>She waited a moment to see if he would be the first to -broach the subject, but he did not. She determined to -tell him then and there all that she had to tell, freeing her -soul and her conscience of their burden, whatever the -cost might be.</p> - -<p>She rose and came to where he was standing, and, -placing a hand upon his arm, looked up into his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Custer,” she said. “I have something to tell you. I -ought to have told you before, but I have been afraid. -Since last night there is no alternative but to tell -you.”</p> - -<p>“You do not have to tell me anything that you do not -want to tell me,” he said. “My confidence in you is implicit.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span> -I could not both love and distrust at the same -time.”</p> - -<p>“I must tell you,” she said. “I only <span class="locked">hope——”</span></p> - -<p>“Where in the world have you been, Shannon?” cried -Eva, breaking suddenly into the sitting room. “I have -been away down to your place looking for you. I thought -you were going to play golf with me this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I came up for,” said Shannon, turning -toward her.</p> - -<p>“Well, come on, then! We’ll have to hurry, if we’re -going to play eighteen holes this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>Custer Pennington went to his room again after the -girls had driven off in the direction of the Country Club. -He wondered what it had been that Shannon wished to -tell him. Round and round in his mind rang the words -of Wilson Crumb:</p> - -<p>“You lived with me two years—you lived with me two -years—you lived with me two years!”</p> - -<p>She had been going to explain that, he was sure; but -she did not have to explain it. The girl that he loved -could have done no wrong. He trusted her. He was -sure of her.</p> - -<p>But what place had that soft-faced cad had in her life? -It was unthinkable that she had ever known him, much -less that they had been upon intimate terms.</p> - -<p>Custer went to his closet and rummaged around for a -bottle. It had been more than two weeks since he had -taken a drink. The return to his old intimacy with Shannon, -and the frequency with which he now saw her had -again weaned him from his habit; but to-day he felt the -need of a drink—of a big drink, stiff and neat.</p> - -<p>He swallowed the raw liquor as if it had been so -much water. He wished now that he had punched -Crumb’s head when he had had the chance. The cur! -He had spoken to Shannon as if she were a common -woman of the streets—Shannon Burke—Custer’s -Shannon!</p> - -<p>Feeling no reaction to the first drink, he took another.</p> - -<p>“I’d like to get my fingers on his throat!” he thought.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span> -“Before I choked the life out of him, I’d drag him up -here and make him kiss the ground at her feet!”</p> - -<p>But no, he could not do that. Others would see it, -and there would have to be explanations; and how could -he explain it without casting reflections on Shannon?</p> - -<p>For hours he sat there in his room, nursing his anger, -his jealousy, and his grief; and all the time he drank and -drank again. He went to his closet, got his belt and -holster, and from his dresser drawer took a big, ugly-looking -forty-five—a Colt’s automatic. For a moment -he stood holding it in his hand, looking at it. Almost -caressingly he handled it, and then he slipped it into the -holster at his hip, put on his hat, and started for the -door.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Custer’s</span> gait showed no indication of the amount that -he had drunk. He was a Pennington of Virginia, and -he could carry his liquor like a gentleman. Even though -he was aflame with the heat of vengeance, his movements -were slow and deliberate. At the door he paused, and, -turning, retraced his steps to the table where stood the -bottle and the glass.</p> - -<p>The bottle was empty. He went to the closet and got -another. Again he drank, and as he stood there by the -table he commenced to plan again.</p> - -<p>There must be some reason for the thing he contemplated. -There must be some reason so logical that -the discovery of his act could in no way reflect upon -Shannon Burke, or draw her name into the publicity -which must ensue. It required time to think out a -feasible plan, and time gave opportunity for additional -drinks.</p> - -<p>The colonel and Mrs. Pennington were away somewhere -down in the valley. Eva and Shannon were the -first to return. In passing along the arcade by Custer’s -open window, Eva saw him lying on his bed. She called -to him, but he did not answer. Shannon was at her side.</p> - -<p>“What in the world do you suppose is the matter with -Custer?” asked Eva.</p> - -<p>They saw that he was fully dressed. His hat had -fallen forward over his eyes. The two girls entered the -room, when they could not arouse him by calling him from -the outside. The two bottles and the glass upon the table -told their own story. What they could not tell Shannon -guessed—he had overheard the conversation between -Wilson Crumb and herself.</p> - -<p>Eva removed the bottles and the glass to the closet.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span></p> - -<p>“Poor Cus!” she said. “I never saw him like this before. -I wonder what could have happened! What had -we better do?”</p> - -<p>“Pull down the shades by his bed,” said Shannon, and -this she did herself without waiting for Eva. “No one -can see him from the patio now. It will be just as well -to leave him alone, I think, Eva. He will probably be -all right when he wakes up.”</p> - -<p>They went out of the room, closing the door after -them, and a little later Shannon mounted the Senator and -rode away toward home.</p> - -<p>Her thoughts were bitter. Wherever Crumb went he -brought misery. Whatever he touched he defiled. She -wished that he was dead. God, how she wished it! She -could have killed him with her own hands for the grief -that he had brought to Custer Pennington.</p> - -<p>She did not care so much about herself. She was -used to suffering because of Wilson Crumb; but that he -should bring his foulness into the purity of Ganado was -unthinkable. Her brief happiness was over. No indeed -was there nothing more in life for her. She was not -easily moved to tears, but that night she was still sobbing -when she fell asleep.</p> - -<p>When the colonel and Mrs. Pennington arrived at the -ranch house, just before dinner, Eva told them that Custer -was not feeling well, and that he had lain down to -sleep and had asked not to be disturbed. They did not -go to his room at all, and at about half past eight they -retired for the night.</p> - -<p>Eva was very much excited. She had never before -experienced the thrill of such an adventure as she was -about to embark upon. As the time approached, she became -more and more perturbed. The realization grew -upon her that what she was doing might seem highly objectionable -to her family; but as her innocent heart held -no suggestion of evil, she considered that her only wrong -was the infraction of those unwritten laws of well regulated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">285</span> -homes which forbid their daughters going out alone -at night. She would tell about it in the morning, and -wheedle her father into forgiveness.</p> - -<p>Quickly she changed into riding clothes. Leaving her -room, she noiselessly passed through the living room and -the east wing to the kitchen, and from there to the basement, -from which a tunnel led beneath the driveway -and opened on the hillside above the upper pool of the -water gardens. To get her horse and saddle him required -but a few moments, for the moon was full and -the night almost like day.</p> - -<p>Her heart was beating with excitement as she rode up -the cañon toward the big sycamore that stood at the -junction of Sycamore Cañon and El Camino Largo, -where Crumb had told her the night scenes would be -taken. She walked her horse past the bunk house, lest -some of the men might hear her; but when she was -through the east gate, beyond the old goat corral, she -broke into a canter.</p> - -<p>As she passed the mouth of Jackknife she glanced up -the cañon toward the site of the K. K. S. camp, but she -could not see any lights, as the camp was fairly well -hidden from the main cañon by trees. As she approached -El Camino Largo, she saw that all was darkness. There -was no sign of the artificial lights she imagined they -would use for shooting night scenes, nor was there anything -to indicate the presence of the actors.</p> - -<p>She continued on, however, until presently she saw -the outlines of a car beneath the big sycamore. A man -stepped out and hailed her.</p> - -<p>“Is that you, Miss Pennington?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she said. “Aren’t you going to take the pictures -to-night?”</p> - -<p>She rode up quite close to him. It was Crumb.</p> - -<p>“I am just waiting for the others. Won’t you dismount?”</p> - -<p>As she swung from the saddle, he led her horse to -his car and tied him to the spare tire in the rear; then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">286</span> -he returned to the girl. As they talked, he adroitly -turned the subject of their conversation toward the possibilities -for fame and fortune which lay in pictures for -a beautiful and talented girl.</p> - -<p>Long practice had made Wilson Crumb an adept in -his evil arts. Ordinarily he worked very slowly, considering -that weeks, or even months, were not ill spent if -they led toward the consummation of his desires; but -in this instance he realized that he must work quickly. -He must take the girl by storm or not at all.</p> - -<p>So unsophisticated was Eva, and so innocent, that she -did not realize from his conversation what would have -been palpable to one more worldly wise; and because -she did not repulse him, Crumb thought that she was not -averse to his advances. It was not until he seized her -and tried to kiss her that she awoke to a realization of -her danger, and of the position in which her silly credulity -had placed her.</p> - -<p>She carried a quirt in her hand, and she was a Pennington. -What matter that she was but a slender girl? -The honor and the courage of a Pennington were hers.</p> - -<p>“How dare you?” she cried, attempting to jerk away.</p> - -<p>When he would have persisted, she raised the heavy -quirt and struck him across the face.</p> - -<p>“My father shall hear of this, and so shall the man -I am to marry—Mr. Evans.”</p> - -<p>“Go slow!” he growled angrily. “Be careful what you -tell! Remember that you came up here alone at night -to meet a man you have known only a day. How will -you square that with your assertions of virtue, eh? And -as for Evans—yes, one of your men told me to-day that -you and he were going to be married—as for him, the -less you drag him into this the better it’ll be for Evans, -and you, too!”</p> - -<p>She was walking toward her horse. She wheeled suddenly -toward him.</p> - -<p>“Had I been armed, I would have killed you,” she said. -“Any Pennington would kill you for what you attempted.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span> -My father or my brother will kill you if you are here to-morrow, -for I shall tell them what you have done. You -had better leave to-night. I am advising you for their -sakes—not for yours.”</p> - -<p>He followed her then, and, when she mounted, he -seized her reins.</p> - -<p>“Not so damned fast, young lady! I’ve got something -to say about this. You’ll keep your mouth shut, or I’ll -send Evans to the pen, where he belongs!”</p> - -<p>“Get out of my way!” she commanded, and put her -spurs to her mount.</p> - -<p>The horse leaped forward, but Crumb clung to the -reins, checking him. Then she struck Crumb again; but -he managed to seize the quirt and hold it.</p> - -<p>“Now listen to me,” he said. “If you tell what happened -here to-night, I’ll tell what I know about Evans, -and he’ll go to the pen as sure as you’re a silly little fool!”</p> - -<p>“You know nothing about Mr. Evans. You don’t -even know him.”</p> - -<p>“Listen—I’ll tell you what I know. I know that -Evans let your brother, who was innocent, go to the pen -for the thing that Evans was guilty of.”</p> - -<p>The girl shrank back.</p> - -<p>“You lie!” she cried.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t lie, either. I’m telling you the truth, and -I can bring plenty of witnesses to prove what I say. It -was young Evans who handled all that stolen booze and -sold it to some guy from L. A. It was young Evans who -got the money. He was getting rich on it till your -brother butted in and crabbed his game, and then it was -young Evans who kept still and let an innocent man do -time for him. That’s the kind of fellow you’re going to -marry. If you want the whole world to know about it, you -just tell your father or your brother anything about me!”</p> - -<p>He saw the girl sink down in her saddle, her head and -shoulders drooping like some lovely flower in the path -of fire, and he knew that he had won. Then he let her -go.</p> - -<p>It was half past nine o’clock when Colonel Pennington<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span> -was aroused by some one knocking on the north door -of his bedroom—the door that opened upon the north -porch.</p> - -<p>“Who is it?” he asked.</p> - -<p>It was the stableman.</p> - -<p>“Miss Eva’s horse is out, sir,” the man said. “I heard -a horse pass the bunk house about half an hour ago. I -dressed and come up here to the stables, to see if it was -one of ours—somethin’ seemed to tell me it was—an’ I -found her horse out. I thought I’d better tell you about -it, sir. You can’t tell, sir, with all them pictur’ people up -the cañon, what might be goin’ on. We’ll be lucky if -we have any horses or tack left if they’re here long!”</p> - -<p>“Miss Eva’s in bed,” said the colonel; “but we’ll have -to look into this at once. Custer’s sick to-night, so he -can’t go along with us; but if you will saddle up my -horse, and one for yourself, I’ll dress and be right down. -It can’t be the motion-picture people—they’re not horse -thieves.”</p> - -<p>While the stableman returned to saddle the horses, the -colonel dressed. So sure was he that Eva was in bed -that he did not even stop to look into her room. As he -left the house, he was buckling on a gun—a thing that -he seldom carried, for even in the peaceful days that have -settled upon southern California a horse thief is still a -horse thief.</p> - -<p>As he was descending the steps to the stable, he saw -some one coming up. In the moonlight there was no difficulty -in recognizing the figure of his daughter.</p> - -<p>“Eva!” he exclaimed. “Where have you been? What -are you doing out at this time of night, alone?”</p> - -<p>She did not answer, but threw herself into his arms, -sobbing.</p> - -<p>“What is it? What has happened, child? Tell me!”</p> - -<p>Her sobs choked her, and she could not speak. Putting -his arm about her, her father led her up the steps and to -her room. There he sat down and held her, and tried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span> -to comfort her, while he endeavored to extract a coherent -statement from her.</p> - -<p>Little by little, word by word, she managed at last -to tell him.</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t cry, dear,” he said. “You did a foolish -thing to go up there alone, but you did nothing wrong. -As for what that fellow told you about Guy, I don’t believe -it.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s the truth,” she sobbed. “I know it is the -truth now. Little things that I didn’t think of before -come back to me, and in the light of what that terrible -man told me I know that it’s true. We always knew -that Custer was innocent. Think what a change came -over Guy from the moment that Custer was arrested. -He has been a different man since. And the money—the -money that we were to be married on! I never -stopped to try to reason it out. He had thousands of -dollars. He told me not to tell anybody how much he -had; and that was where it came from. It couldn’t have -come from anything else. Oh, popsy, it is awful, and I -loved him so! To think that he, that Guy Evans, of all -men, would have let my brother go to jail for something -he did!”</p> - -<p>Again her sobs stifled her.</p> - -<p>“Crying will do no good,” the colonel said. “Go to bed -now, and to-morrow we will talk it over. Good night, -little girl. Remember, we’ll all stick to Guy, no matter -what he has done.”</p> - -<p>He kissed her then and left her, but he did not return -to his room. Instead, he went down to the stables and -saddled his horse, for the stableman, when Eva came in -with the missing animal, had put it in its box and returned -to the bunk house.</p> - -<p>The colonel rode immediately to the sleeping camp in -Jackknife Cañon. His calls went unanswered for a time, -but presently a sleepy man stuck his head through the flap -of a tent.</p> - -<p>“What do you want?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“I am looking for Mr. Crumb. Where is he?”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t know. He went away in his car early in the -evening, and hasn’t come back. What’s the matter, anyway? -You’re the second fellow that’s been looking for -him. Oh, you’re Colonel Pennington, aren’t you? I -didn’t recognize you. Why, some one was here a little -while ago looking for him—a young fellow on horseback. -I think it must have been your son. Anything I can do -for you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the colonel. “In case I don’t see Mr. -Crumb, you can tell him, or whoever is in charge, that -you’re to break camp in the morning and be off my -property by ten o’clock!”</p> - -<p>He wheeled his horse and rode down Jackknife Cañon -toward Sycamore.</p> - -<p>“Well, what the hell!” ejaculated the sleepy man to -himself, and withdrew again into his tent.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Shannon Burke,</span> after a restless night, rose early in -the morning to ride. She always found that the quiet -and peace of the hills acted as a tonic on jangling nerves, -and dispelled, at least for the moment, any cloud of unhappiness -that might be hovering over her.</p> - -<p>The first person to see her that morning was the flunky -from the K. K. S. camp who was rustling wood for the -cook’s morning fire. So interested was he in her rather -remarkable occupation that he stood watching her from -behind a bush until she was out of sight. As long as -he saw her, she rode slowly, dragging at her side a leafy -bough, which she moved to and fro, as if sweeping the -ground. She constantly looked back, as if to note the -effect of her work; and once or twice he saw her go over -short stretches of the road a second time, brushing vigorously.</p> - -<p>It was quite light by that time, as it was almost five -o’clock, and the sun was just rising as she dismounted at -the Ganado stables and hurried up the steps toward the -house. The iron gate at the patio entrance had not yet -been raised, so she went around to the north side of the -house and knocked on the colonel’s bedroom door.</p> - -<p>He came from his dressing room to answer her knock, -for he was fully dressed and evidently on the point of -leaving for his morning ride. The expression of her -face denoted that something was wrong, even before she -spoke.</p> - -<p>“Colonel,” she cried, “Wilson Crumb has been killed. -I rode early this morning, and as I came into Sycamore -over El Camino Largo I saw his body lying under the -big tree there.”</p> - -<p>They were both thinking the same thought, which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span> -neither dared voice—where was Custer?</p> - -<p>“Did you notify the camp?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“No—I came directly here.”</p> - -<p>“You are sure that it is Crumb, and that he is dead?” -he asked.</p> - -<p>“I am sure that it is Crumb. He was lying on his back, -and though I didn’t dismount I am quite positive that he -was dead.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Pennington had joined them, herself dressed for -riding.</p> - -<p>“How terrible!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Terrible nothing,” exclaimed the colonel. “I’m -damned glad he’s dead!”</p> - -<p>Shannon looked at him in astonishment, but Mrs. -Pennington understood, for the colonel had told her all -that Eva had told him.</p> - -<p>“He was a bad man,” said Shannon. “The world will -be better off without him.”</p> - -<p>“You knew him?” Colonel Pennington asked in surprise.</p> - -<p>“I knew him in Hollywood,” she replied.</p> - -<p>She knew now that they must all know sooner or later, -for she could not see how she could be kept out of the -investigation and the trial that must follow. In her -heart she feared that Custer had killed Crumb. The -fact that he had drunk so heavily that afternoon indicated -not only that he had overheard, but that what he had -heard had affected him profoundly—profoundly enough -to have suggested the killing of the man whom he believed -to have wronged the woman he loved.</p> - -<p>“The first thing to do, I suppose,” said the colonel, “is -to notify the sheriff.”</p> - -<p>He left the room and went to the telephone. While -he was away Mrs. Pennington and Shannon discussed -the tragedy, and the older woman confided to the other -the experience that Eva had had with Crumb the previous -night.</p> - -<p>“The beast!” muttered Shannon. “Death was too good<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span> -for him!”</p> - -<p>Presently the colonel returned to them.</p> - -<p>“I think I’ll go and see if the children are going to -ride with us,” he said. “There is no reason why we -shouldn’t ride as usual.”</p> - -<p>He went to Eva’s door and looked in. Apparently she -was still fast asleep. Her hair was down, and her curls -lay in soft confusion upon her pillow. Very gently he -closed the door again, glad that she could sleep.</p> - -<p>When he entered his son’s room he found Custer lying -fully clothed upon his bed, his belt about his waist and -his gun at his hip. His suspicions were crystallized into -belief.</p> - -<p>But why had Custer killed Crumb? He couldn’t have -known of the man’s affront to Eva, for she had seen no -member of the family but her father, and in him alone -had she confided.</p> - -<p>He crossed to the bed and shook Custer by the shoulder. -The younger man opened his eyes and sat up on the -edge of his bed. He looked first at his father and then -at himself—at his boots and spurs, and breeches, and -the gun about his waist.</p> - -<p>“What time is it?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Five o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“I must have fallen asleep. I wish it was dinner -time! I’m hungry.”</p> - -<p>“Dinner time! It’s only a matter of a couple of hours -to breakfast. It’s five o’clock in the morning.”</p> - -<p>Custer rose to his feet in surprise.</p> - -<p>“I must have loaded on more than I knew,” he said -with a wry smile.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” asked his father.</p> - -<p>“I had a blue streak yesterday afternoon, and I took -a few drinks; and here I have slept all the way through -to the next morning!”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t been out of the room since yesterday -afternoon?” asked the colonel.</p> - -<p>“No, of course not. I thought it was still yesterday<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span> -afternoon until you told me that it is the next morning,” -said Custer.</p> - -<p>The colonel ran his fingers through his hair.</p> - -<p>“I am glad,” he said.</p> - -<p>Custer didn’t know why his father was glad.</p> - -<p>“Riding?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be with you in a jiffy. I want to wash up a bit.”</p> - -<p>He met them at the stables a few minutes later. The -effect of the liquor had entirely disappeared. He seemed -his normal self again, and not at all like a man who -had the blood of a new murder on his soul. He was glad -to see Shannon, and squeezed her hand as he passed her -horse to get his own.</p> - -<p>In the few moments since his father had awakened him, -he had reviewed the happenings of the previous day, and -his loyalty to the girl he loved had determined him that -he had nothing to grieve about. Whatever had been -between her and Crumb she would explain. Only the -fact that Eva had interrupted her had kept him from -knowing the whole truth the previous day.</p> - -<p>They were mounted, and had started out, when the -colonel reined to Custer’s side.</p> - -<p>“Shannon just made a gruesome find up in Sycamore,” -he said, and paused.</p> - -<p>If he had intended to surprise Custer into any indication -of guilty knowledge, he failed.</p> - -<p>“Gruesome find!” repeated the younger man. “What -was it?”</p> - -<p>“Wilson Crumb has been murdered. Shannon found -his body.”</p> - -<p>“The devil!” ejaculated Custer. “Who do you suppose -could have done it?”</p> - -<p>Then, quite suddenly, his heart came to his mouth, as -he realized that there was only one present there who -had cause to kill Wilson Crumb. He did not dare to -look at Shannon for a long time.</p> - -<p>They had gone only a hundred yards when Custer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span> -pulled up the Apache and dismounted.</p> - -<p>“I thought so,” he said, looking at the horse’s off forefoot. -“He’s pulled that shoe again. He must have -done it in the corral, for it was on when I put him in -last night. You folks go ahead. I’ll go back and saddle -Baldy.”</p> - -<p>The stableman was still there, and helped him.</p> - -<p>“That was a new shoe,” Custer said. “Look about the -corral and the box, and see if you can find it. You can -tack it back on.”</p> - -<p>Then he swung to Baldy’s back and cantered off after -the others.</p> - -<p>A deputy sheriff came from the village of Ganado before -they returned from their ride, and went up the -cañon to take charge of Crumb’s body and investigate the -scene of the crime.</p> - -<p>Eva was still in bed when they were called to breakfast. -They insisted upon Shannon’s remaining, and the -four were passing along the arcade past Eva’s room.</p> - -<p>“I think I’ll go in and waken her,” said Mrs. Pennington. -“She doesn’t like to sleep so late.”</p> - -<p>The others passed into the living room, and were -walking toward the dining room when they were startled -by a scream.</p> - -<p>“Custer! Custer!” Mrs. Pennington called to her -husband.</p> - -<p>All three turned and hastened back to Eva’s room, -where they found Mrs. Pennington half lying across the -bed, her body convulsed with sobs. The colonel was the -first to reach her, followed by Custer and Shannon. The -bedclothes lay half thrown back, where Mrs. Pennington -had turned them. The white sheet was stained with -blood, and in Eva’s hand was clutched a revolver that -Custer had given her the previous Christmas.</p> - -<p>“My little girl, my little girl!” cried the weeping -mother. “Why did you do it?”</p> - -<p>The colonel knelt and put his arms about his wife.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span> -He could not speak. Custer Pennington stood like a -man turned to stone. The shock seemed to have bereft -him of the power to understand what had happened. -Finally he turned dumbly toward Shannon. The tears -were running down her cheeks. Gently she touched his -sleeve.</p> - -<p>“My poor boy!” she said.</p> - -<p>The words broke the spell that had held him. He -walked to the opposite side of the bed and bent close to -the still, white face of the sister he had worshiped.</p> - -<p>“Dear little sister, how could you, when we love you -so?” he said.</p> - -<p>Gently the colonel drew his wife away, and, kneeling, -placed his ear close above Eva’s heart. There were no -outward indications of life, but presently he lifted his -head, an expression of hope relieving that of grim despair -which had settled upon his countenance at the first -realization of the tragedy.</p> - -<p>“She is not dead,” he said. “Get Baldwin! Get him -at once!” He was addressing Custer. “Then telephone -Carruthers, in Los Angeles, to get down here as soon as -God will let him.”</p> - -<p>Custer hurried from the room to carry out his father’s -instructions.</p> - -<p>It was later, while they were waiting for the arrival -of the doctor, that the colonel told Custer of Eva’s experience -with Crumb the previous night.</p> - -<p>“She wanted to kill herself because of what he told -her about Guy,” he said. “There was no other reason.”</p> - -<p>Then the doctor came, and they all stood in tense expectancy -and mingled dread and hope while he made his -examination. Carefully and deliberately the old doctor -worked, outwardly as calm and unaffected as if he were -treating a minor injury to a stranger; yet his heart was -as heavy as theirs, for he had brought Eva into the -world, and had known and loved her all her brief life.</p> - -<p>At last he straightened up, to find their questioning -eyes upon him.</p> - -<p>“She still lives,” he said, but there was no hope in his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span> -voice.</p> - -<p>“I have sent for Carruthers,” said the colonel. “He -is on his way now. He told Custer that he’ll be here in -less than three hours.”</p> - -<p>“I arranged to have a couple of nurses sent out, too,” -said Custer.</p> - -<p>Dr. Baldwin made no reply.</p> - -<p>“There is no hope?” asked the colonel.</p> - -<p>“There is always hope while there is life,” replied the -doctor; “but you must not raise yours too high.”</p> - -<p>They understood him, and realized that there was very -little hope.</p> - -<p>“Can you keep her alive until Carruthers arrives?” -asked the colonel.</p> - -<p>“I need not tell you that I shall do my best,” was the -reply.</p> - -<p>Guy had come, with his mother. He seemed absolutely -stunned by the catastrophe that had overwhelmed him. -There was a wildness in his demeanor that frightened -them all. It was necessary to watch him carefully, for -fear that he might attempt to destroy himself when he -realized at last that Eva was likely to die.</p> - -<p>He insisted that they should tell him all the circumstances -that had led up to the pitiful tragedy. For a -time they sought to conceal a part of the truth from -him; but at last, so great was his insistence, they were -compelled to reveal all that they knew.</p> - -<p>Of a nervous and excitable temperament, and endowed -by nature with a character of extreme sensitiveness and -comparatively little strength, the shock of the knowledge -that it was his own acts that had led Eva to self-destruction -proved too much for Guy’s overwrought nerves and -brain. So violent did he become that Colonel Pennington -and Custer together could scarce restrain him, and -it became necessary to send for two of the ranch -employees.</p> - -<p>When the deputy sheriff came to question them about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span> -the murder of Crumb, it was evident that Guy’s mind -was so greatly affected that he did not understand what -was taking place around him. He had sunk into a morose -silence broken at intervals by fits of raving. Later in -the day, at Dr. Baldwin’s suggestion, he was removed -to a sanatorium outside of Los Angeles.</p> - -<p>Guy’s mental collapse, and the necessity for constantly -restraining him, had resulted in taking Custer’s mind from -his own grief, at least for the moment; but when he -was not thus occupied he sat staring straight ahead of -him in dumb despair.</p> - -<p>It was eleven o’clock when the best surgeon that Los -Angeles could furnish arrived, bringing a nurse with -him, and Eva was still breathing when he came. Dr. -Baldwin was there, and together the three worked for an -hour while the Penningtons and Shannon waited almost -hopelessly in the living room, Mrs. Evans having accompanied -Guy to Los Angeles.</p> - -<p>Finally, after what seemed years, the door of the -living room opened, and Dr. Carruthers entered. They -scanned his face as he entered, but saw nothing there to -lighten the burden of their apprehension. The colonel -and Custer rose.</p> - -<p>“Well?” asked the former, his voice scarcely audible.</p> - -<p>“The operation was successful. I found the bullet -and removed it.”</p> - -<p>“She will live, then!” cried Mrs. Pennington, coming -quickly toward him.</p> - -<p>He took her hands very gently in his.</p> - -<p>“My dear madam,” he said, “it would be cruel of me -to hold out useless hope. She hasn’t more than one -chance in a hundred. It is a miracle that she was alive -when you found her. Only a splendid constitution, resulting -from the life that she has led, could possibly account -for it.”</p> - -<p>The mother turned away with a low moan.</p> - -<p>“There is nothing more that you can do?” asked -the colonel.</p> - -<p>“I have done all that I can,” replied Carruthers.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span></p> - -<p>“She will not last long?”</p> - -<p>“It may be a matter of hours, or only minutes,” he replied. -“She is in excellent hands, however. No one could -do more for her than Dr. Baldwin.”</p> - -<p>The two nurses whom Custer had arranged for had -arrived, and when Dr. Carruthers departed he took his -own nurse with him.</p> - -<p>It was afternoon when deputies from the sheriff’s and -coroner’s offices arrived from Los Angeles, together with -detectives from the district attorney’s office. Crumb’s -body still lay where it had fallen, guarded by a constable -from the village of Ganado. It was surrounded by -members of his company, villagers, and near-by ranchers, -for word of the murder had spread rapidly in the district -in that seemingly mysterious way in which news travels in -rural communities. Among the crowd was Slick Allen, -who had returned to the valley after his release from -the county jail.</p> - -<p>A partially successful effort had been made to keep -the crowd from trampling the ground in the immediate -vicinity of the body, but beyond a limited area whatever -possible clews the murderer might have left in the shape -of footprints had been entirely obliterated long before the -officers arrived from Los Angeles.</p> - -<p>When the body was finally lifted from its resting place, -and placed in the ambulance that had been brought from -Los Angeles, one of the detectives picked up a horseshoe -that had lain underneath the body. From its appearance -it was evident that it had been upon a horse’s hoof very -recently, and had been torn off by force.</p> - -<p>As the detective examined the shoe, several of the -crowd pressed forward to look at it. Among them was -Allen.</p> - -<p>“That’s off of young Pennington’s horse,” he said.</p> - -<p>“How do you know that?” inquired the detective.</p> - -<p>“I used to work for them—took care of their saddle -horses. This young Pennington’s horse forges. They<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span> -had to shoe him special, to keep him from pulling the off -fore shoe. I could tell one of his shoes in a million. -If they haven’t walked all over his tracks, I can tell -whether that horse had been up here or not.”</p> - -<p>He stooped and examined the ground close to where -the body had lain.</p> - -<p>“There!” he said, pointing. “There’s an imprint of -one of his hind feet. See how the toe of that shoe is -squared off? That was made by the Apache, all right!”</p> - -<p>The detective was interested. He studied the hoofprint -carefully, and searched for others, but this was the -only one he could find.</p> - -<p>“Looks like some one had been sweeping this place -with a broom,” he remarked. “There ain’t much of anything -shows.”</p> - -<p>A pimply-faced young man spoke up.</p> - -<p>“There was some one sweeping the ground this morning,” -he said. “About five o’clock this morning I seen -a girl dragging the branch of a tree after her, and sweeping -along the road below here.”</p> - -<p>“Did you know her?” asked the detective.</p> - -<p>“No—I never seen her before.”</p> - -<p>“Would you know her if you saw her again?”</p> - -<p>“Sure I’d know her! She was a pippin. I’d know -her horse, too.”</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">Eva</span> was still breathing faintly as the sun dropped behind -the western hills. Shannon had not left the house -all day. She felt that Custer needed her, that they all -needed her, however little she could do to mitigate their -grief. There was at least a sense of sharing their burden, -and her fine sensibilities told her that this service of love -was quite as essential as the more practical help that she -would have been glad to offer had it been within her -power.</p> - -<p>She was standing in the patio with Custer, at sunset, -within call of Eva’s room, as they had all been during -the entire day, when a car drove up along the south -drive and stopped at the patio entrance. Three of the -four men in it alighted and advanced toward them.</p> - -<p>“You are Custer Pennington?” one of them asked.</p> - -<p>Pennington nodded.</p> - -<p>“And you are Miss Burke—Miss Shannon Burke?”</p> - -<p>“I am.”</p> - -<p>“I am a deputy sheriff. I have a warrant here for your -arrest.”</p> - -<p>“Arrest!” exclaimed Custer. “For what?”</p> - -<p>He read the warrant to them. It charged them with -the murder of Wilson Crumb.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry, Mr. Pennington,” said the deputy sheriff; -“but I have been given these warrants, and there is nothing -for me to do but serve them.”</p> - -<p>“You have to take us away now? Can’t you wait—until—my -sister is dying in there. Couldn’t it be arranged -so that I could stay here under arrest as long as -she lives?”</p> - -<p>The deputy shook his head.</p> - -<p>“It would be all right with me,” he said; “but I have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">302</span> -no authority to let you stay. I’ll telephone in, though, -and see what I can do. Where is the telephone?”</p> - -<p>Pennington told him.</p> - -<p>“You two stay here with my men,” said the deputy -sheriff, “while I telephone.”</p> - -<p>He was gone about fifteen minutes. When he returned, -he shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Nothing doing,” he said. “I have to bring you both -in right away.”</p> - -<p>“May I go to her room and see her again before I -leave?” asked Custer.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the deputy; but when Custer turned -toward his sister’s room, the officer accompanied him.</p> - -<p>Dr. Baldwin and one of the nurses were in the room. -Young Pennington came and stood beside the bed, looking -down on the white face and the tumbled curls upon the -pillow. He could not perceive the slightest indication -of life, yet they told him that Eva still lived. He knelt -and kissed her, and then turned away. He tried to say -good-by to her, but his voice broke, and he turned and -left the room hurriedly.</p> - -<p>Colonel and Mrs. Pennington were in the patio, with -Shannon and the officers. The colonel and his wife had -just learned of this new blow, and both of them were -stunned. The colonel seemed to have aged a generation -in that single day. He was a tired, hopeless old man. -The heart of his boy and that of Shannon Burke went out -to him and to the suffering mother from whom their son -was to be taken at this moment in their lives when they -needed him most. In their compassion for the older -Penningtons they almost forgot the seriousness of their -own situation.</p> - -<p>At their arraignment, next morning, the preliminary -hearing was set for the following Friday. Early in the -morning Custer had received word from Ganado that -Eva still lived, and that Dr. Baldwin now believed they -might hold some slight hope for her recovery.</p> - -<p>At Ganado, despair and anxiety had told heavily upon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">303</span> -the Penningtons. The colonel felt that he should be in -Los Angeles, to assist in the defense of his son; and yet -he knew that his place was with his wife, whose need -of him was even greater. Nor would his heart permit -him to leave the daughter whom he worshiped, so long -as even a faint spark of life remained in that beloved -frame.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Evans returned from Los Angeles the following -day. She was almost prostrated by this last of a series -of tragedies ordered, as it seemed, by some malignant -fate for the wrecking of her happiness. She told them -that Guy appeared to be hopelessly insane. He did not -know his mother, nor did he give the slightest indication -of any recollection of his past life, or of the events that -had overthrown his reason.</p> - -<p>At ten o’clock on Wednesday night Dr. Baldwin came -into the living room, where the colonel and his wife were -sitting with Mrs. Evans. For two days none of them -had been in bed. They were tired and haggard, but not -more so than the old doctor, who had remained constantly -on duty from the moment when he was summoned. -Never had man worked with more indefatigable zeal -than he to wrest a young life from the path of the grim -reaper. There were deep lines beneath his eyes, and his -face was pale and drawn, as he entered the room and -stood before them; but for the first time in many hours -there was a smile upon his lips.</p> - -<p>“I believe,” he said, “that we are going to save her.”</p> - -<p>The others were too much affected to speak. So long -had hope been denied that now they dared not even think -of hope.</p> - -<p>“She regained consciousness a few moments ago. She -looked up at me and smiled, and then she fell asleep. She -is breathing quite naturally now. She must not be disturbed, -though. I think it would be well if you all retired. -Mrs. Pennington, you certainly must get some -sleep—and you too, Mrs. Evans, or I cannot be responsible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">304</span> -for the results. I have left word with the night -nurse to call me immediately, if necessary, and if you will -all go to your rooms I will lie on the sofa here in the -living room. I feel at last that it will be safe for me to -leave her in the hands of the nurse, and a little sleep -won’t hurt me.”</p> - -<p>The colonel took his old friend by the hand.</p> - -<p>“Baldwin,” he said, “it is useless to try to thank you. -I couldn’t, even if there were the words to do it with.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t have to, Pennington. I think I love her -as much as you do. There isn’t any one who knows her -who doesn’t love her, and who wouldn’t have done as -much as I. Now, get off to bed all of you, and I think -we’ll find something to be very happy about by morning. -If there is any change for the worse, I will let you know -immediately.”</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>In the county jail in Los Angeles, Custer Pennington -and Shannon Burke, awaiting trial on charges of a capital -crime, were filled with increasing happiness as the daily -reports from Ganado brought word of Eva’s steady improvement, -until at last that she was entirely out of -danger.</p> - -<p>The tedious preliminaries of selecting a jury were -finally concluded. As witness after witness was called, -Pennington came to realize for the first time what a web -of circumstantial evidence the State had fabricated about -him. Even from servants whom he knew to be loyal and -friendly the most damaging evidence was elicited. His -mother’s second maid testified that she had seen him -fully dressed in his room late in the evening before the -murder, when she had come in, as was her custom, with -a pitcher of iced water, not knowing that the young man -was there. She had seen him lying upon the bed, with -his gun in its holster hanging from the belt about his -waist. She also testified that the following morning, -when she had come in to make up his bed, she had discovered -that it had not been slept in.</p> - -<p>The stableman testified that the Apache had been out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">305</span> -on the night of the murder. He had rubbed the animal -off earlier in the evening, when the defendant had come -in from riding. At that time the two had examined the -horse’s shoes, the animal having just been reshod. He -said that on the morning after the murder there were -saddle sweat marks on the Apache’s back, and that the -off fore shoe was missing.</p> - -<p>One of the K. K. S. employees testified that a young -man, whom he partially identified as Custer, had ridden -into their camp about nine o’clock on the night of the -murder, and had inquired concerning the whereabouts -of Crumb. He said that the young man seemed excited, -and upon being told that Crumb was away he had ridden -off rapidly toward Sycamore Cañon.</p> - -<p>Added to all this were the damaging evidence of the -detective who had found the Apache’s off fore shoe under -Crumb’s body, and the positive identification of the shoe -by Allen. The one thing that was lacking—a motive for -the crime—was supplied by Allen and the Penningtons’ -house man.</p> - -<p>The latter testified that among his other duties was -the care of the hot water heater in the basement of the -Pennington home. Upon the evening of Saturday, August -5, he had forgotten to shut off the burner, as was -his custom. He had returned about nine o’clock, to -do so. When he had left the house by the passageway -leading from the basement beneath the south drive and -opening on the hillside just above the water gardens, he -had seen a man standing by the upper pool, with his -arms about a woman, whom he was kissing. It was a -bright moonlight night, and the house man had recognized -the two as Custer Pennington and Miss Burke. Being -embarrassed by having thus accidentally come upon them, -he had moved away quietly in the opposite direction, -among the shadows of the trees, and had returned to the -bunk house.</p> - -<p>The connecting link between this evidence and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">306</span> -motive for the crime was elicited from Allen in half -an hour of direct examination, which constituted the -most harrowing ordeal that Shannon Burke had ever -endured; for it laid bare before the world, and before -the man she loved, the sordid history of her life with -Wilson Crumb. It portrayed her as a drug addict and -a wanton; but, more terrible still, it established a motive -for the murder of Crumb by Custer Pennington.</p> - -<p>Owing to the fact that he had lain in a drunken stupor -during the night of the crime, that no one had seen him -from the time when the maid entered his room to bring -his iced water until his father had found him fully clothed -upon his bed at five o’clock the following morning, young -Pennington was unable to account for his actions, or to -state his whereabouts at the time when the murder was -committed.</p> - -<p>He realized what the effect of the evidence must be -upon the minds of the jurors when he himself was unable -to assert positively, even to himself, that he had not -left his room that night. Nor was he very anxious to -refute the charge against him, since in his heart he believed -that Shannon Burke had killed Crumb. He did -not even take the stand in his own defense.</p> - -<p>The evidence against Shannon was less convincing. A -motive had been established in Crumb’s knowledge of her -past life and the malign influence that he had had upon -it. The testimony of the camp flunky who had seen her -obliterating what evidence the trail might have given in -the form of hoofprints constituted practically the only -direct evidence that was brought against her. It seemed -to Custer that the gravest charge that could justly be -brought against her was that of accessory after the fact, -provided the jury was convinced of his guilt.</p> - -<p>Many witnesses testified, giving evidence concerning -apparently irrelevant subjects. It was brought out, however, -that Crumb died from the effects of a wound inflicted -by a forty-five-caliber pistol, that Custer Pennington -possessed such a weapon, and that at the time of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">307</span> -arrest it had been found in its holster, with its cartridge -belt, thrown carelessly upon his bed.</p> - -<p>When Shannon Burke took the stand, all eyes were -riveted upon her. They were attracted not only by her -youth and beauty, but also by the morbid interest which -the frequenters of court rooms would naturally feel in -the disclosure of the life she had led at Hollywood. Even -to the most sophisticated it appeared incredible that this refined -girl, whose soft, well modulated voice and quiet -manner carried a conviction of innate modesty, could be -the woman whom Slick Allen’s testimony had revealed in -such a rôle of vice and degradation.</p> - -<p>Allen’s eyes were fastened upon her with the same intent -and searching expression that had marked his attitude -upon the occasion of his last visit to the Vista -del Paso bungalow, as if he were trying to recall the -identity of some half forgotten face.</p> - -<p>Though Shannon gave her evidence in a simple, -straightforward manner, it was manifest that she was -undergoing an intense nervous strain. The story that -she told, coming as it did out of a clear sky, unguessed -either by the prosecution or by the defense, proved a veritable -bombshell to them both. It came after it had appeared -that the last link had been forged in the chain -that fixed the guilt upon Custer Pennington. She had -asked, then, to be permitted to take the stand and tell -her story in her own way.</p> - -<p>“I did not see Mr. Crumb,” she said, “from the time I -left Hollywood on the 30th of July, last year, until the -afternoon before he was killed; nor had I communicated -with him during that time. What Mr. Allen told you -about my having been a drug addict was true, but he -did not tell you that Crumb made me what I was, or -that after I came to Ganado to live I overcame the habit. -I did not live with Crumb as his wife. He used me to -peddle narcotics for him. I was afraid of him, and did -not want to go back to him. When I left, I did not even -let him know where I was going.</p> - -<p>“The afternoon before he was killed I met him accidentally<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">308</span> -in the patio of Colonel Pennington’s home. -The Penningtons had no knowledge of my association -with Crumb. I knew that they wouldn’t have tolerated -me, had they known what I had been. Crumb demanded -that I should return to him, and threatened to expose me -if I refused. I knew that he was going to be up in the -cañon that night. I rode up there and shot him. The -next morning I went back and attempted to obliterate the -tracks of my horse, for I had learned from Custer Pennington -that it is sometimes easy to recognize individual -peculiarities in the tracks of a shod horse. That is all, -except that Mr. Pennington had no knowledge of what I -did, and no part in it.”</p> - -<p>Momentarily her statement seemed to overthrow the -State’s case against Pennington; but that the district -attorney was not convinced of its truth was indicated by -his cross-examination of her and other witnesses, and -later by the calling of new witnesses. They could not -shake her testimony, but on the other hand she was unable -to prove that she had ever possessed a forty-five-caliber -pistol, or to account for what she had done with -it after the crime.</p> - -<p>During the course of her cross-examination many apparently -unimportant and irrelevant facts were adduced, -among them the name of the Middle Western town in -which she had been born. This trivial bit of testimony -was the only point that seemed to make any impression on -Allen. Any one watching him at the moment would -have seen a sudden expression of incredulity and consternation -overspread his face, the hard lines of which slowly -gave place to what might, in another, have suggested -a semblance of grief.</p> - -<p>For several minutes he sat staring intently at Shannon. -Then he crossed to the side of her attorney, and whispered -a few words in the lawyer’s ear. Receiving an assent to -whatever his suggestion might have been, he left the -court room.</p> - -<p>On the following day the defense introduced a new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">309</span> -witness in the person of a Japanese who had been a house -servant in the bungalow on the Vista del Paso. His testimony -substantiated Shannon Burke’s statement that she -and Crumb had not lived together as man and wife.</p> - -<p>Then Allen was recalled to the stand. He told of the -last evening that he had spent at Crumb’s bungalow, and -of the fact that Miss Burke, who was then known to -him as Gaza de Lure, had left the house at the same -time he did. He testified that Crumb had asked her why -she was going home so early; that she had replied that -she wanted to write a letter; that he, Allen, had remarked -“I thought you lived here,” to which she had replied, “I’m -here nearly all day, but I go home nights.” The witness -added that this conversation took place in Crumb’s presence, -and that the director did not in any way deny the -truth of the girl’s assertion.</p> - -<p>Why Allen should have suddenly espoused her cause -was a mystery to Shannon, only to be accounted for upon -the presumption that if he could lessen the value of -that part of her testimony which had indicated a possible -motive for the crime, he might thereby strengthen -the case against Pennington, toward whom he still felt -enmity, and whom he had long ago threatened to “get.”</p> - -<p>The district attorney, in his final argument, drew a -convincing picture of the crime from the moment when -Custer Pennington saddled his horse at the stables at -Ganado. He followed him up the cañon to the camp in -Jackknife, where he had inquired concerning Crumb, and -then down to Sycamore again, where, at the mouth of -Jackknife, the lights of Crumb’s car would have been -visible up the larger cañon.</p> - -<p>He demonstrated clearly that a man familiar with the -hills, and searching for some one whom sentiments of -jealousy and revenge were prompting him to destroy, -would naturally investigate this automobile light that -was shining where no automobile should be. That the -prisoner had ridden out with the intention of killing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">310</span> -Crumb was apparent from the fact that he had carried -a pistol in a country where, under ordinary circumstances, -there was no necessity for carrying a weapon for self-defense. -He vividly portrayed the very instant of the -commission of the crime—how Pennington leaned from -his saddle and shot Crumb through the heart; the sudden -leap of the murderer’s horse as he was startled by the report -of the pistol, or possibly by the falling body of the -murdered man; and how, in so jumping, he had forged -and torn off the shoe that had been found beneath -Crumb’s body.</p> - -<p>“And,” he said, “this woman knew that he was going -to kill Wilson Crumb. She knew it, and she made no -effort to prevent it. On the contrary, as soon as it was -light enough, she rode directly to the spot where Crumb’s -body lay, and, as has been conclusively demonstrated by -the unimpeachable testimony of an eyewitness, she deliberately -sought to expunge all traces of her lover’s -guilt.”</p> - -<p>He derided Shannon’s confession, which he termed an -eleventh hour effort to save a guilty man from the gallows.</p> - -<p>“If she killed Wilson Crumb, what did she kill him -with?”</p> - -<p>He picked up the bullet that had been extracted from -Crumb’s body.</p> - -<p>“Where is the pistol from which this bullet came? -Here it is, gentlemen!”</p> - -<p>He picked up the weapon that had been taken from -Custer’s room.</p> - -<p>“Compare this bullet with those others that were taken -from the clip in the handle of this automatic. They are -identical. This pistol did not belong to Shannon Burke. -It was never in her possession. No pistol of this character -was ever in her possession. Had she had one, she could -have told where she obtained it, and whether it had been -sold to her or to another; and the records of the seller -would show whether or not she spoke the truth. Failing -to tell us where she procured the weapon, she could at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">311</span> -least lead us to the spot where she had disposed of it. -She can do neither, and the reason why she cannot is -because she never owned a forty-five-caliber pistol. She -never had one in her possession, and therefore she could -not have killed Crumb with one.”</p> - -<p>When at length the case went to the jury, Custer Pennington’s -conviction seemed a foregone conclusion, while -the fate of Shannon Burke was yet in the laps of the gods. -The testimony that Allen and the Japanese servant had -given in substantiation of Shannon’s own statement that -her relations with Wilson Crumb had only been those of -an accomplice in the disposal of narcotics, removed from -consideration the principal motive that she might have -had for killing Crumb.</p> - -<p>And so there was no great surprise when, several hours -later, the jury returned a verdict in accordance with the -public opinion of Los Angeles—where, owing to the fact -that murder juries are not isolated, such cases are tried -largely by the newspapers and the public. They found -Custer Pennington, Jr., guilty of murder in the first -degree, and Shannon Burke not guilty.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">312</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">On</span> the day when Custer was to be sentenced, Colonel -Pennington and Shannon Burke were present in the court -room. Mrs. Pennington had remained at home with -Eva, who was slowly convalescing. Shannon reached the -court room before the colonel. When he arrived, he sat -down beside her, and placed his hand on hers.</p> - -<p>“Whatever happens,” he said, “we shall still believe -in him. No matter what the evidence—and I do not deny -that the jury brought in a just verdict in accordance with -it—I know that he is innocent. He told me yesterday -that he was innocent, and my boy would not lie to me. He -thought that you killed Crumb, Shannon. He overheard -the conversation between you and Crumb in the patio -that day, and he knew that you had good reason to kill -the man. He knows now, as we all know, that you did -not. Probably it must always remain a mystery. He -would not tell me that he was innocent until after you -had been proven so. He loves you very much, my girl!”</p> - -<p>“After all that he heard here in court? After what -I have been? I thought none of you would ever want -to see me again.”</p> - -<p>The colonel pressed her hand.</p> - -<p>“Whatever happens,” he said, “you are going back -home with me. You tried to give your life for my -son. If this were not enough, the fact that he loves you, -and that we love you, is enough.”</p> - -<p>Two tears crept down Shannon’s cheeks—the first -visible signs of emotion that she had manifested during -all the long weeks of the ordeal that she had been -through. Nothing had so deeply affected her as the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">313</span> -magnanimity of the proud old Pennington, whose pride -and honor, while she had always admired them, she had -regarded as an indication of a certain puritanical narrowness -that could not forgive the transgression of a woman.</p> - -<p>When the judge announced the sentence, and they -realized that Custer Pennington was to pay the death -penalty, although it had been almost a foregone conclusion, -the shock left them numb and cold.</p> - -<p>Neither the condemned man nor his father gave any -outward indication of the effect of the blow. They -were Penningtons, and the Pennington pride permitted -them no show of weakness before the eyes of strangers. -Nor yet was there any bravado in their demeanor. The -younger Pennington did not look at his father or Shannon -as he was led away toward his cell, between two -bailiffs.</p> - -<p>As Shannon Burke walked from the court room with -the colonel, she could think of nothing but the fact that -in two months the man she loved was to be hanged. -She tried to formulate plans for his release—wild, -quixotic plans; but she could not concentrate her mind -upon anything but the bewildering thought that in two -months they would hang him by the neck until he was -dead.</p> - -<p>She knew that he was innocent. Who, then, had committed -the crime? Who had murdered Wilson Crumb?</p> - -<p>Outside the Hall of Justice she was accosted by Allen, -whom she attempted to pass without noticing. The -colonel turned angrily on the man. He was in the mood -to commit murder himself; but Allen forestalled any outbreak -on the old man’s part by a pacific gesture of his -hands and a quick appeal to Shannon.</p> - -<p>“Just a moment, please,” he said. “I know you -think I had a lot to do with Pennington’s conviction. I -want to help you now. I can’t tell you why. I don’t -believe he was guilty. I changed my mind recently. -If I can see you alone, Miss Burke, I can tell you something -that might give you a line on the guilty party.”</p> - -<p>“Under no conceivable circumstances can you see Miss<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">314</span> -Burke alone,” snapped the colonel.</p> - -<p>“I’m not going to hurt her,” said Allen. “Just let -her talk to me here alone on the sidewalk, where no one -can overhear.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the girl, who could see no opportunity -pass which held the slightest ray of hope for Custer.</p> - -<p>The colonel walked away, but turned and kept his -eyes on the man when he was out of earshot. Allen -spoke hurriedly to the girl for ten or fifteen minutes, and -then turned and left her. When she returned to the -colonel, the latter did not question her. When she did -not offer to confide in him, he knew that she must have -good reasons for her reticence, since he realized that her -sole interest lay in aiding Custer.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>For the next two months the colonel divided his time -between Ganado and San Francisco, that he might be -near San Quentin, where Custer was held pending the -day of execution. Mrs. Pennington, broken in health -by the succession of blows that she had sustained, was -sorely in need of his companionship and help. Eva was -rapidly regaining her strength and some measure of -her spirit. She had begun to realize how useless and -foolish her attempt at self-destruction had been, and to -see that the braver and nobler course would have been to -give Guy the benefit of her moral support in his time of -need.</p> - -<p>The colonel, who had wormed from Custer the full -story of his conviction upon the liquor charge, was able -to convince her that Guy had not played a dishonorable -part, and that of the two he had suffered more than Custer. -Her father did not condone or excuse Guy’s wrong-doing, -but he tried to make her understand that it was -no indication of a criminal inclination, but rather the -thoughtless act of an undeveloped boy.</p> - -<p>During the two months they saw little or nothing of -Shannon. She remained in Los Angeles, and when she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">315</span> -made the long trip to San Quentin to see Custer, or when -they chanced to see her, they could not but note how thin -and drawn she was becoming. The roses had left her -cheeks, and there were deep lines beneath her eyes, in -which there was constantly an expression of haunting -fear.</p> - -<p>As the day of the execution drew nearer, the gloom -that had hovered over Ganado for months settled like a -dense pall upon them all. On the day before the execution -the colonel left for San Francisco, to say good-by -to his son for the last time. Custer had insisted that his -mother and Eva must not come, and they had acceded to -his wish.</p> - -<p>On the afternoon when the colonel arrived at San -Quentin, he was permitted to see his son for the last time. -The two conversed in low tones, Custer asking questions -about his mother and sister, and about the little everyday -activities of the ranch. Neither of them referred to the -event of the following morning.</p> - -<p>“Has Shannon been here to-day?” the colonel asked.</p> - -<p>Custer shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t seen her this week,” he said. “I suppose -she dreaded coming. I don’t blame her. I should like -to have seen her once more, though!”</p> - -<p>Presently they stood in silence for several moments.</p> - -<p>“You’d better go, dad,” said the boy. “Go back to -mother and Eva. Don’t take it too hard. It isn’t so bad, -after all. I have led a bully life, and I have never forgotten -once that I am a Pennington. I shall not forget -it to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>The father could not speak. They clasped hands -once, the older man turned away, and the guards led -Custer back to the death cell for the last time.</p> -<hr /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">316</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="firstword">It</span> was morning when the colonel reached the ranch. -He found his wife and Eva sitting in Custer’s room. -They knew the hour, and they were waiting there to be -as near him as they could. They were weeping quietly. -In the kitchen across the patio they could hear Hannah -sobbing.</p> - -<p>They sat there for a long time in silence. Suddenly -they heard a door slam in the patio, and the sound of -some one running.</p> - -<p>“Colonel Pennington! Colonel Pennington!” a voice -cried.</p> - -<p>The colonel stepped to the door of Custer’s room. It -was the bookkeeper calling him.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” he asked. “Here I am.”</p> - -<p>“The Governor has granted a stay of execution. There -is new evidence. Miss Burke is on her way here now. -She has found the man who killed Crumb!”</p> - -<p>What more he said the colonel did not hear, for he -had turned back into the room, and, collapsing on his -son’s bed, had broken into tears—he who had gone -through those long weeks like a man of iron.</p> - -<p>It was nearly noon before Shannon arrived. She had -been driven from Los Angeles by an attaché of the district -attorney’s office. The Penningtons had been standing -on the east porch, watching the road with binoculars, -so anxious were they for confirmation of their hopes.</p> - -<p>She was out of the car before it had stopped and was -running toward them. The man who had accompanied -her followed, and joined them on the porch. Shannon -threw her arms around Mrs. Pennington’s neck.</p> - -<p>“He is safe!” she cried. “Another has confessed, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">317</span> -has satisfied the district attorney of his guilt.”</p> - -<p>“Who was it?” they asked.</p> - -<p>Shannon turned toward Eva.</p> - -<p>“It is going to be another blow to you all,” she said; -“but wait until I’m through, and you will understand -that it could not have been otherwise. It was Guy who -killed Wilson Crumb.”</p> - -<p>“Guy? Why should he have done it?”</p> - -<p>“That was it. That was why suspicion was never directed -toward him. Only he knew the facts that -prompted him to commit the deed. It was Allen who -suggested to me the possibility that it might have been -Guy. I have spent nearly two months at the sanatorium -with this gentleman from the district attorney’s office, in -an effort to awaken Guy’s sleeping intellect to a realization -of the past, and of the present necessity for recalling -it. He has been improving steadily, but it was only yesterday -that memory returned to him. We worked on the -theory that if he could be made to realize that Eva lived, -the cause of his mental sickness would be removed. We -tried everything, and we had almost given up hope when, -almost like a miracle, his memory returned, while he was -looking at a kodak picture of Eva that I had shown him. -The rest was easy, especially after he knew that she had -recovered. Instead of the necessity for confession resulting -in a further shock, it seemed to inspirit him. His -one thought was of Custer, his one hope that we would -be in time to save him.”</p> - -<p>“Why did he kill Crumb?” asked Eva.</p> - -<p>“Because Crumb killed Grace. He told me the whole -story yesterday.”</p> - -<p>Very carefully Shannon related all that Guy had told -of Crumb’s relations with his sister, up to the moment -of Grace’s death.</p> - -<p>“I am glad he killed him!” said Eva. “I would have -had no respect for him if he hadn’t done it.”</p> - -<p>“Guy told me that the evening before he killed Crumb<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">318</span> -he had been looking over a motion picture magazine, and -he had seen there a picture of Crumb which tallied with -the photograph he had taken from Grace’s dressing table—a -portrait of the man who, as she told him, was responsible -for her trouble. Guy had never been able to -learn this man’s identity, but the picture in the magazine, -with his name below it, was a reproduction of the same -photograph. There was no question as to the man’s -identity. The scarfpin, and a lock of hair falling in a -peculiar way over the forehead, marked the pictures as -identical. Though Guy had never seen Crumb, he knew -from conversations that he had heard here that it was -Wilson Crumb who was directing the picture that was -to be taken on Ganado. He immediately got his pistol, -saddled his horse, and rode up to the camp in search -of Crumb. It was he whom one of the witnesses mistook -for Custer. He then did what the district attorney -attributed to Custer. He rode to the mouth of Jackknife, -and saw the lights of Crumb’s car up near El -Camino Largo. While he was in Jackknife, Eva must -have ridden down Sycamore from her meeting with -Crumb, passing Jackknife before Guy rode back into -Sycamore. He rode up to where Crumb was attempting -to crank his engine. Evidently the starter had failed to -work, for Crumb was standing in front of the car, in -the glare of the headlights, attempting to crank it. Guy -accosted him, charged him with the murder of Grace, -and shot him. He then started for home by way of -El Camino Largo. Half a mile up the trail he dismounted -and hid his pistol and belt in a hollow tree. -Then he rode home.</p> - -<p>“He told me that while he never for an instant regretted -his act, he did not sleep all that night, and was -in a highly nervous condition when the shock of Eva’s -supposed death unbalanced his mind; otherwise he -would gladly have assumed the guilt of Crumb’s death -at the time when Custer and I were accused.</p> - -<p>“After we had obtained Guy’s confession, Allen gave<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">319</span> -us further information tending to prove Custer innocent. -He said he could not give it before without incriminating -himself; and as he had no love for Custer, -he did not intend to hang for a crime he had not committed. -He knew that he would surely hang if he confessed -the part that he had played in formulating the -evidence against Custer.</p> - -<p>“Crumb had been the means of sending Allen to the -county jail, after robbing him of several thousand dollars. -The day before Crumb was killed, Allen’s sentence -expired. The first thing he did was to search for -Crumb, with the intention of killing the man. He -learned at the studio where Crumb was, and he followed -him immediately. He was hanging around the camp out -of sight, waiting for Crumb, when he heard the shot -that killed him. His investigation led him to Crumb’s -body. He was instantly overcome by the fear, induced -by his guilty conscience, that the crime would be laid -at his door. In casting about for some plan by which -he might divert suspicion from himself, he discovered an -opportunity to turn it against a man whom he hated. The -fact that he had been a stableman on Ganado, and was -familiar with the customs of the ranch, made it an easy -thing for him to go to the stables, saddle the Apache, -and ride him up Sycamore to Crumb’s body. Here he -deliberately pulled off the fore shoe from the horse and -hid it under Crumb’s body. Then he rode back to the -stable, unsaddled the Apache, and made his way to the -village.</p> - -<p>“The district attorney said that we need have no fear -but that Custer will be exonerated and freed. And, -Eva”—she turned to the girl with a happy smile—“I have -it very confidentially that there is small likelihood that -any jury in southern California will convict Guy, if he -bases his defense upon a plea of insanity.”</p> - -<p>Eva smiled bravely and said:</p> - -<p>“One thing I don’t understand, Shannon, is what you -were doing brushing the road with a bough from a tree,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">320</span> -on the morning after the killing of Crumb, if you weren’t -trying to obliterate some one’s tracks.”</p> - -<p>“That’s just what I was trying to do,” said Shannon. -“Ever since Custer taught me something about tracking, -it has held a certain fascination for me, so that I often -try to interpret the tracks I see along the trails in the -hills. It was because of this, I suppose, that I immediately -recognized the Apache’s tracks around the body -of Crumb. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that -Custer had killed him, and I did what I could to remove -this evidence. As it turned out, my efforts did more -harm than good, until Allen’s explanation cleared up -the matter.”</p> - -<p>“And why,” asked the colonel, “did Allen undergo this -sudden change of heart?”</p> - -<p>Shannon turned toward him, her face slightly flushed, -though she looked him straight in the eyes as she spoke.</p> - -<p>“It is a hard thing for me to tell you,” she said. -“Allen is a bad man—a very bad man; yet in the worst -of man there is a spark of good. Allen told me this -morning, in the district attorney’s office, what it was that -had kindled to life the spark of good in him. He is my -father.”</p> - -<p class="p2 center smaller wspace">THE END</p> - -<div class="chapter"><div class="transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made -consistent when a predominant preference was found -in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.</p> - -<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced -quotation marks were remedied when the change was -obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced.</p> - -<p>Transcriber removed redundant half-title page.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_60">Page 60</a>: “some one’s else happiness” was printed that way.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_78">Page 78</a>: “an unkind face” was printed that way; may be a typographical -error for “fate”.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_79">Page 79</a>: “the possessor a quiet humor” was printed that way, likely -omitting an “of”.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_87">Page 87</a>: “Half an hour later he emerged” originally -was printed as “merged”.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_189">Page 189</a>: “which had arisen in his mind and would not down.” was printed -that way; probably should be “go down.”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_200">Page 200</a>: “she cared about just then” originally -was printed as “just them”.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_248">Page 248</a>: “There’s be a whole regiment” was printed -that way.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_263">Page 263</a>: “she was purposely avoiding her” was printed that way, but “she” -perhaps should be “he”.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_310">Page 310</a>: “leap of the murderer’s horse” originally -was printed as “murder’s”.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_319">Page 319</a>: “pulled off the fore shoe” originally was -printed as “the off”.</p> -</div></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Girl from Hollywood, by Edgar Rice Burroughs - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL FROM HOLLYWOOD *** - -***** This file should be named 62409-h.htm or 62409-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/4/0/62409/ - -Produced by Tim Lindell, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from images made available by the -HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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