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diff --git a/old/66184-0.txt b/old/66184-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b1b3eac..0000000 --- a/old/66184-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6491 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of His Royal Nibs, by Winifred Eaton -Reeve - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: His Royal Nibs - -Author: Winifred Eaton Reeve - -Release Date: August 30, 2021 [eBook #66184] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Mary Glenn Krause, Larkspur, Ohio State University and the - Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images - made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS ROYAL NIBS *** - - - - - - HIS ROYAL - NIBS - - _By_ - WINIFRED EATON REEVE - AUTHOR OF “CATTLE,” ETC. - -[Illustration] - - W. J. WATT & CO. - PUBLISHERS - 601 MADISON AVE., NEW YORK. - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY - W. J. WATT & COMPANY - - -_Printed in the United States of America_ - - - - - To - CARL LAEMMLE - - FOR WHOM THE AUTHOR HAS - THE SINCEREST ADMIRATION - - - - -_His Royal Nibs_ - - - - -CONTENTS - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. 7 - - II. 20 - - III. 29 - - IV. 40 - - V. 55 - - VI. 69 - - VII. 83 - - VIII. 85 - - IX. 104 - - X. 116 - - XI. 132 - - XII. 143 - - XIII. 159 - - XIV. 162 - - XV. 169 - - XVI. 183 - - XVII. 196 - - XVIII. 208 - - XIX. 221 - - XX. 238 - - XXI. 248 - - XXII. 253 - - XXIII. 261 - - XXIV. 274 - - XXV. 284 - - XXVI. 290 - - XXVII. 302 - - - - -HIS ROYAL NIBS - - -CHAPTER I - - -Along the Banff National Highway, automobiles sped by in a cloud of -dust, heat, noise and odour. They stopped not to offer a lift to -the wayfarer along the road, for they were intent upon making the -evergrowing grade to Banff on “high.” - -This year tramps were common on the road, war veterans, for the most -part, “legging it” from Calgary to lumber or road camp, or making for -the ranches in the foothills, after that elusive job of which the -Government agent in England had so eloquently expatiated, but which -proved in most cases to be but a fantastic fable. With somewhat of -that pluck which had meant so much to the world, when the “vets” were -something more than mere job hunting tramps, these men from across -the sea trudged in the heat, the dust and the dry alkali-laden air. -Sometimes they were taken on at camp or ranch. More often they were -shunted farther afield. One wondered where they would finally go, these -“boys” from the old land, who had crossed to the Dominion of Canada -with such high hopes in their breasts. - -The O Bar O lies midway between Calgary and Banff, in the foothills of -the ranching country. Its white and green buildings grace the top of a -hill that commands a view of the country from all sides. - -From the Banff road the fine old ranch presents an imposing sight, -after miles of road through a country where the few habitations are -mainly those melancholy shacks of the first homesteaders of Alberta. - -When “Bully Bill,” foreman of the O Bar O, drove his herd of resentful -steers from the green feed in the north pasture, where they had broken -through the four lines of barbed wire, he was shouting and swearing in -a blood-curdling and typically O Bar O fashion, whirling and cracking -his nine feet long bull whip over the heads of the animals, as they -swept before him down to the main gate. - -Bully Bill had “herding” down to a science, and “them doegies,” as he -called them, went in a long line before him like an army in review. Had -events followed their natural course, the cattle should have filed out -of the opened gate into the roadway, and across the road to the south -field, where, duly, they would distribute themselves among the hummocks -and coulies that afforded the most likely places for grazing. On this -blistering day, however, Bully Bill’s formula failed. Something on the -wide road had diverted the course of the driven steers. Having gotten -them as far as the road, Bully Bill paused in his vociferous speech and -heady action to take a “chaw” of his favorite plug; but his teeth had -barely sunk into the weed when something caused him to shift it to his -cheek, as with bulging eyes, he sat up erectly upon his horse, and then -moved forward into swift action. - -A certain pausing and grouping, a bunching together and lowering of -heads, the ominous movement of a huge roan steer ahead of the herd, -apprised the experienced cowpuncher of the fact that a stampede was -imminent. - -As he raced through the gate, Bully Bill perceived the cause of the -revolution of his herd. Directly in the path of the animals was a -strange figure. Not the weary footsore tramp common to the trail. Not -the nervy camper, applying at O Bar O for the usual donation of milk -and eggs. Neither neighbour, nor Indian from Morley. Here was a clean -tweed-clad Englishman, with a grip in his hand. How he had maintained -his miraculous neatness after forty-four miles of tramping all of the -way from Calgary cannot be explained. - -Eye to eye he faced that roan steer, whose head sank loweringly, as he -backed and swayed toward that moving mass behind him, all poised and -paused for the charge. - -Time was when the Englishman had been in another kind of a charge, but -that is a different story, and France is very far away from Alberta, -Canada. - -As the dumbfounded cowpuncher raced wildly in his direction, the man -afoot did a strange thing. Raising on high his grip in his hand, he -flung it directly into the face of the roan steer. In the scattering -and scampering and bellowing that ensued, it was hard to distinguish -anything but dust and a vast, moving blur, as the startled herd, -following the lead of the roan steer, swept headlong down the road, -to where in the canyon below, the Ghost and the Bow Rivers had their -junction. - -From the direction of the corrals swept reinforcements, in the shape of -“Hootmon,” a Scot so nicknamed by the outfit, because of his favourite -explosive utterance, and Sandy, son of the O Bar O, red-haired, -freckled-faced and indelibly marked by the sun above, who rode his -Indian bronc with the grace and agility of a circus rider. - -Into the roaring mêlée charged the yelling riders. Not with the -“hobo-dude,” lying on the inner side of the barbed-wire fence, -through which he had scrambled with alacrity before the roan steer -had recovered from the onslaught of the grip, were the “hands” of -the ranch concerned. Theirs the job to round up and steady that -panic-stricken herd; to bring order out of chaos; to soothe, to beat, -to drive into a regulation bunch, and safely land the cattle in the -intended south field. - -Half an hour later, when the last of the tired herd had passed through -the south gate, when the bellowings had died down and already the -leaders were taking comfort in the succulent green grass on the edges -of a long slough, Bully Bill bethought him of the cause of all this -extra work and delay. He released that plug of tobacco from his left -cheek, spat viciously, and with vengeance in his eye, rode over to -where the intruder still reclined upon the turf. Said turf was hard and -dry, and tormenting flies and grasshoppers and flying ants leaped about -his face and neck; but he lay stretched out full-length upon his back, -staring up at the bright blue sky above him. As Bully Bill rode over, -he slowly and easily raised himself to a sitting posture. - -“Hi! you there!” bawled the foreman, in the overbearing voice that had -earned for him his nickname. “What the hell are you squattin’ out here -for? What d’ya mean by stirrin’ up all this hell of a racket? What the -hell d’ya want at O Bar O?” - -The stranger smiled up at him, with the sun glinting in his eyes. -His expression was guileless, and the engaging ring of friendliness -and reassurance in his voice caused the irate cowhand to lapse into -a stunned silence, as he gaped at this curious specimen of the human -family on the ground before him. - -“Ch-cheerio!” said the visitor. “No harm done. I’m f-first rate, thank -you. Not even scratched. How are you?” - -Hootmon applied his spurs to his horse’s flanks, and cantered up the -hill in the direction of the corrals, there to recount to an interested -audience old Bully Bill’s discomfiture and amazement. - -Things move slowly in a ranching country, and not every day does the -Lord deposit a whole vaudeville act at the door of a ranch house. - -Sandy, seeking to curry favour with the confounded foreman, winked at -him broadly, and then deliberately pricked the rump of the unfortunate -Silver Heels with a pin. Kicking around in a circle, the bronco backed -and bucked in the direction of the man upon the grass, now sitting up -and tenderly examining an evidently bruised shin. - -At this juncture, the long-suffering Silver Heels developed an -unexpected will of his own. Shaking himself violently from side to -side, he reared up on his hind legs, and by a dash forward of his -peppery young head, he jerked the reins from the hands of the surprised -lad, who shot into the air and nearly fell into the lap of the -Englishman. - -That individual gripped the boy’s arm tightly and swung him neatly to -his side. - -“You leggo my arm!” - -Sandy squirmed from the surprisingly iron grip of the visitor. - -The tramp, as they believed him to be, was now sitting up erectly, with -that sublime, smooth air of cheerful condescension which Canadians so -loathe in an Englishman. - -“Cheerio, old man!” said he, and slapped the unwillingly impressed -youngster upon the back. “Not hurt much--what?” - -“Hurt--nothing! Whacha take me for?” - -Sandy, a product of O Bar O, let forth a typical string of hot cusses, -while the Englishman grinned down upon him. - -“What the hell you doin’ sittin’ on our grass?” finished Sandy shrilly. -“What cha want at our ranch?” - -“Oh, I say! Is this a rawnch then?” - -He turned a questioning eager gaze upon the foreman, who now sat with -right leg resting across the pummel of the saddle, studying their -visitor in puzzled silence. After a moment, having spat and transferred -his plug from the left to the right cheek, Bully Bill replied through -the corner of his mouth. - -“You betchour life this ain’t no rawnch. Ain’t no _rawnches_ this side -o’ the river. They _ranch_ on this side.” - -The other looked unenlightened, and Bully Bill condescended further -explanation, with a flicker of a wink at the delighted Sandy. - -“Yer see, it’s like this. On the south side of the river, there’s a -sight of them English “dooks” and earls and lords and princes. They -play at rawnching, doncherknow. On the north side, we’re the real -cheese. We’re out to raise beef. We _ranch_!” - -Having delivered this explanation of things in the cattle country, -Bully Bill, well pleased with himself, dropped his foot back into his -stirrup and saluted the Englishman condescendingly: - -“Here’s lookin’ at you!” he said, and gently pressed his heel into his -horse’s side. - -“I say----!” - -The tramp had sprang to his feet with surprising agility, and his nervy -hand was at the mouth of Bully Bill’s mount. - -“I say, old man, will you hold on a bit? I w-wonder now, do you, by any -chance, need help on your ranch? Because if you do, I’d like to apply -for the position. If this is a cattle ranch, I’ll say that I know a -bit about horses. R-r-r-ridden s-some in my time, and I t-took care -of a c-car-load of cattle c-coming up from the east. W-w-worked my -way out here, in fact, and as to w-wages, nominal ones will be quite -satisfactory as a s-starter.” - -Bully Bill, his mouth gaped open, was surveying the applicant from head -to foot, his trained eye travelling from the top of the sleekly-brushed -blond hair, the smoothly-shaven cheek, down the still surprisingly -dapper form to the thin shoes that were so painfully inadequate for -the trail. Sandy was doubled up in a knot, howling with fiendish glee. -Bully Bill spat. - -“I d-don’t m-mind roughing it at all,” continued the applicant, -wistfully. “D-don’t judge me by my clothes. Fact is, old man, they -happen to be all I’ve g-got, you see. B-but I’m quite c-competent -to----” - -Bully Bill said dreamily, looking out into space, and as if thinking -aloud. - -“We ain’t as tough as we’re cracked up to be. Of course, they’s one or -two stunts you got to learn on a cattle ranch--rawnch--beggin’ your -pardon----” - -“That’s quite all right, old man. Don’t mention it. Is there a chance -then for me?” - -There was not a trace of a smile on Bully Bill’s face as he solemnly -looked down into the anxious blue eyes of the applicant. - -“They’s the makin’s of a damn fine cowboy in you,” he said. - -“I say!” - -A smile broke all over the somewhat pinched face of the strange tramp. -That smile was so engaging, so sunny, so boyish that the cowpuncher -returned it with a characteristic grin of his own. - -“D-you really mean to say that I’m engaged?” - -“You betchu.” - -“Thanks awfully, old man,” cried the other cordially, and extended his -white hand, which gripped the horny one of the cowpuncher, at rest on -his leather-clad knee. - -Bully Bill rode off at a slow lope, and as he rode, he steadily chewed. -Once or twice he grunted, and once he slapped his leg and made a sound -that was oddly like a hoarse guffaw. In the wake of the loitering -horse, carrying his now sadly-battered grip in his hand, the Englishman -plugged along, and as he came he whistled a cheery strain of music. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Sandy made three somersaults of glee on the turf, and at his last -turn-over, his head came into contact with something hard. He rubbed -said head, and at the same time observed that which had pained him. -It was a large, old-fashioned gold locket, studded with rubies and -diamonds. - -“Holy Salmon!” ejaculated the highly-elated boy. In an instant he had -seized the bridle of his horse, and was on him. He went up the hill on -a run, and began calling outside the house, while still on horse. - -“Hilda! I say, Hilda! Come on out! Looka here what _I_ found!” - -A girl, skin bronzed by sun and wind, with chocolate-coloured eyes -and hair and a certain free grace of motion and poise, came on to the -wide verandah. Sandy had ridden his horse clear to the railing, and -now he excitedly held up the trinket in his hand, and then tossed it -to Hilda, who caught it neatly in her own. Turning it over, the girl -examined to find with admiration and curiosity, and, with feminine -intuition, she found the spring and opened the locket. Within, the -lovely, pictured face of a woman in low-cut evening dress, looked back -from the frame. On the opposite side, a lock of dead-gold hair curled -behind the glass. - -Sandy had leaped off his horse, and now was excitedly grasping after -the treasure. - -“Wher’d you find it, Sandy?” - -“Down in the lower pasture. Betchu its his girl! Say, Hilda, he’s a -scream. You’d oughter’ve been there. He came along the road all dolled -up in city clothes, and--look! Oh, my God-frey! Look ut him, Hilda!” - -In an ecstasy of derision and delight, Sandy pointed. - -Hand shading his eyes, the stranger was gazing across the -wide-spreading panorama of gigantic hills, etched against a sky of -sheerest blue, upon which the everlasting sun glowed. - -“By George!” exclaimed the new “hand” of the O Bar O, “what a tophole -view! Never saw anything to beat it. Give you my word, it b-b-beats -S-switzerland. When I was tramping along the road, I th-thought that -was a good one on us at home, ’bout this being the Land of Promise, you -know, b-but now, by George! I’m hanged if I don’t think you’re right. -A chap cannot look across at a view like that and not feel jolly well -uplifted!” - -There was a ring of men closing in about the new arrival, for it was -the noon hour, and Hootmon had hurried them along from bunkhouse and -corral. At the stranger’s stream of eloquence to Bully Bill anent the -beauties of nature in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, “Pink-eyed -Jake” swooned away in the arms of Hootmon. A gale of unbridled laughter -burst from a dozen throats. The men held their sides and leaned forward -the better to scan this new specimen of the human family. Hands on -hips, they “took his number” and pronounced him internally a freak of -nature. - -To the door of the cook-car, rolled the immense form of Tom Chum Lee, -the Chinese cook who dominated the grub-car of O Bar O. With a vast -smile of benignant humour directed upon his “boys,” Lee summoned all -hands to chow, by means of a great cow bell, that he waved generously -back and forth. - -With immense satisfaction and relish, the newcomer was taking in all of -the colour and atmosphere of the ranch. The fact that he himself was an -object of derisive mirth to the outfit, troubled him not at all. - -A skirt--pink--flirted around the side of the house, and outlined -against the blue of the sky, the slim form of a young girl shone on the -steps of the ranch house. The Englishman had a glimpse of wide, dark -eyes, and a generous red mouth, through which gleamed the whitest of -teeth. But it was her voice, with its shrill edge of impudent young -mirth that sent the colour to the pinched cheeks of the new hand of -O Bar O. There was in it, despite its mockery, a haughty accent of -contempt. - -“Who’s his royal nibs, Bully Bill?” - -Through the corner of his mouth, the foreman enlightened her: - -“Vodeyveel show. Things gittin’ kind o’ dull at O Bar. Thought I’d pull -in something to cheer the fellows up a bit, and they’s nothing tickles -them more than turnin’ a green tenderfoot Englishman on to them. This -one here is a circus. When I asked him what the hello--excuse me, Miss -Hilda!--what the hello he was doin’ round here, he ses: ‘Cheerio!’ Say, -if ever there was ‘Kid me’ writ all over a human bein’, it’s splashed -over that there one.” - -“Um!” - -Hilda came down the steps and approached the newcomer. Head slightly -on one side, she examined him with evident curiosity and amusement. -“Paper-collar dudes,” as the ranch folk called the city people, came -quite often to O Bar O, but this particular specimen seemed somehow -especially green and guileless. A wicked dimple flashed out in the -right cheek of the girl, though her critical eyes were still cold as -she looked the man over from head to foot. - -“Hi-yi! You! Where do you hail from?” - -As he looked up at the beautiful, saucy young creature before him, the -Englishman was seized with one of his worst spells of stuttering. The -impediment in his speech was slight, on ordinary occasions, but when -unduly moved, and at psychological moments, when the tongue’s office -was the most desired of adjuncts, it generally failed him. Now: - -“Bb-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b----” - -The girl, hands on hips, swayed back and forth with laughter. - -“Haven’t you a tongue even? What are you doing in this wild country, -you poor lost lamb from the fold?” - -He had recovered his wits, and the use of his tongue. His heels came -together with a curiously smart and military click, and his blue eyes -looked squarely into the impudent brown ones of the girl, laughing in -his face. With complete gravity, he replied: - -“J-just came across to the p-promised land, to try and make a home for -myself and--” he paused, smiling sunnily--“and another, you know.” - -“Now wasn’t that the great idea!” guyed the girl, with mock -seriousness. “And who’s the other one, by the way? Another like you? Do -tell us.” - -“Her name’s--Nanna, we call her.” - -“Nanna! Nanna! What a sweet name!” - -She was still mocking, but suddenly swung the locket on its chain -toward him. - -“Do you know, I believe we’ve found your long-lost Nanna. I was just -admiring her fair, sweet face inside. Catch her!” - -She tossed it across to him. It dropped on the stones between them. He -stooped to pick it up, and anxiously examined it, before turning to -look back at the girl with a slightly stern glance. - -“Righto!” he said. “Thanks for returning her to me.” - -For some unaccountable reason, the girl’s mood changed. She tossed her -head, as the colour flooded her face. Something wild and free in that -tossing suggested the motion of a young thoroughbred colt. Affecting -great disdain, and as if looking down at him from a height, she -inquired: - -“Oh, by the way, what’s your name?” - -He absently fished in his vest pocket, and this action provoked a fresh -gale of laughter from the highly edified hands, in which the girl -heartily joined. At the laughter, he looked up, slightly whistled, and -said in his friendly way: - -“Cheerio!” - -“Cheerio!” repeated the girl. “Some name. Boys, allow me--Cheerio, Duke -of the O Bar O. Escort his grace to the dining-car, and mind you treat -him gentle. And say, boys--” she called after them, “doll him up in O -Bar O duds. Let’s see what he looks like in reglar clothes.” - -Shoved along by the men, “his grace” was pushed and hustled into the -cook-car. Here the odour of the hot food, and the rich soup being -slapped into each bowl along the line of plates, almost caused the -hungry Englishman to faint. Nevertheless, he kept what he would have -termed “stiff upper lip,” and as the Chinaman passed down between the -long bench tables, and filled the bowl before the newcomer, Cheerio, -as he was henceforward to be known, controlled the famished longing to -fall to upon that thick, delicious soup, and, smiling instead, turned -to the man on either side of him, with a cigarette case in his hand: - -“Have one, old man, do. P-pretty g-good stuff! Got them in France, -you know. Believe I’ll have one myself before starting in, you know. -Topping--what?” - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -P. D. McPherson, or “P. D.” as he was better known throughout -the ranching country, owner of the O Bar O, was noted for his -eccentricities, his scientific experiments with stock and grain, and -for the variety and quality of his vocabulary of “cusses.” - -An ex-professor of an Agricultural College, he had come to Alberta in -the early days, before the trails were blazed. While the railroads were -beginning to survey the new country, he had established himself in the -foothills of the Rocky Mountains. - -Beginning with a few head of cattle imported from the East, P. D. had -built up his herd until it was famous throughout the cattle world. His -experiments in crossing pure-bred grades of cattle in an attempt to -produce an animal that would give both the beef of the Hereford and the -butterfat and cream of the Holstein, had been followed with unabated -interest. - -He had been equally successful with his horses and other stock. Turning -from cattle and stock, P. D. next expended his genius upon the grain. -It was a proud and triumphant day for O Bar O when, at the annual -Calgary Fair, the old rancher showed a single stalk of wheat, on which -were one hundred and fifty kernels. - -His alfalfa and rye fields, in a normally dry and hilly part of the -country, were the wonder and amazement of farmers and ranchers. - -The Government, the Railways, the Flour mills and the Agricultural -Colleges, sought him out, and made tempting offers to induce him to -yield up to them his secrets. - -P. D. stroked his chin, pinched his lower lip, drew his fuzzy eyebrows -together, and shook his fine, shaggy old head. He was not yet satisfied -that his experiments had reached perfection. - -He’d “think it over.” He’d “see about it some day, maybe,” and he -“wasn’t so damned cussed sure that it would benefit the world to -produce cheap wheat at the present time. This way out, gentlemen! This -way out!” - -He was a rude old man, was P. D. McPherson. - -In a way, he was obliged to be so, for otherwise he would have been -enormously imposed on. O Bar O was in the heart of the game and fishing -country, and was, therefore, the mecca of all aspiring hunters and -fishermen, to say nothing of the numerous campers and motor hoboes, who -drove in every day upon the land and left their trail of disorder and -dirt behind, and quite often small or large forest fires, that were -kept under control only by the vigilance of O Bar O. - -The ranch was noted for its hospitality, and no tramp or stranger or -rider along the trail had ever been turned from its door. The line, -however, had to be drawn somewhere, and it was drawn in so far as the -idle tourists, pausing en route to Banff or Lake Louise to “beat” a -meal or a pleasant day at the ranch, were concerned, or the numerous -motor hoboes, who, denied at the ranch house their numerous requests -for milk and eggs and gasolene and the privilege of spending the night -there, slipped in under the bridge by the river, and set up their camps -on the banks of the Ghost River. - -About the time when his wheat had brought him considerable, but -undesired, fame, P. D., holding his lower lip between thumb and -forefinger, was looking about for new experimental worlds to conquer. -By chance, his motherless son and daughter, then of the impressionable -ages of four and ten respectively, shot under his especial notice, -through the medium of a ride down the bannister and resultant noise. - -P. D. studied his offspring appraisingly and thoughtfully, and as he -looked into the grimy, glooming young faces, he conceived another one -of his remarkable “inspirations.” - -It was soon after this, that P. D. founded that “School of Nature,” -to which were bidden all of the children of the neighbouring ranch -country, and into which his own progeny were unceremoniously dumped. -However, when the curriculum of this Institution of Learning became -more fully understood, despite the fame of its founder and president, -there were none among the parents of the various children who felt -justified in sending them to the O Bar O School of Nature. - -Even the most ignorant among them believed that school existed only -mainly for the purpose of teaching the young minds how to shoot with -reading, writing, spelling and arithmetic. - -P. D. proposed only the slightest excursion into these elementary -subjects. Nature, so he declared, addressing the assembled farmers at -a special meeting, was the greatest of all teachers, a book into which -one might look, without turning a single leaf, and learn all that was -necessary for the knowledge of mankind. - -He was convinced, so eloquently proclaimed P. D., that school such as -the world knew it, was antiquated in its methods and wholly unnecessary -and wrong. To teach the young the secrets and mysteries of nature--that -alone was needed to produce a race of supermen and women. - -One timid little woman arose, and asked what “supermen” meant, and the -huge, rough father of the family of ten replied that it meant “men who -liked their supper.” - -The meeting broke up in a riot--so far as P. D. was concerned, and his -neighbours departed with his wrathful imprecations ringing in their -ears. - -Not to be daunted by the lack of support afforded him by his -neighbours, P. D. set at once to put his theories into practice upon -his helpless children. - -It came to pass that the children of P. D. missed the advantages of the -ordinary modern schools. Had P. D., in fact, carried out his original -curriculum, which he prepared with scientific detail, it is quite -possible that the results might have turned out as satisfactorily as -his experiments with cattle, pigs, sheep and horses. P. D. reckoned -not, however, with the vagaries and impetuosities of youth and human -nature. Unlike dumb stock, he had fiery spirits, active imaginations, -and saucy tongues to deal with. He was not possessed with even the -normal amount of patience desirable in a good teacher. His classes, -therefore, were more often than not punctuated by explosive sounds, -miraculous expletives, indignant outcries, and the ejection or hurried -exit from the room of a smarting, angry-eyed youngster, suffering from -the two-fold lash of parental tongue and hand. - -Then when some of his original ideas were just beginning to take -substantial root in their young minds and systems, P. D. fell a victim -to a new and devastating passion, which was destined to hold him in -thrall for the rest of his days. - -Chess was his new mistress, alternately his joy and his bane. Even his -children were forgotten in the shuffle of events, and, turned upon -their own resources, they grew up like wild young things, loose on a -great, free range. - -If, however, the young McPhersons had missed school, they had learned -much of which the average child of to-day is more or less ignorant. -They knew all of the theories concerned in the formation of this -earth of ours, and the living things upon it. They were intimately -acquainted with every visible and many invisible stars and planets in -the firmament. They had a plausible and a comprehensible explanation -for such phenomena as the milky way, the comets, the northern lights, -the asteroids and other denizens of the miraculous Alberta sky above -them. They knew what the west, the east, the north and the south -winds portended. They could calculate to a nicety the distance of -a thunderstorm. No mean weather prophets were the children of P. -D. McPherson; nor were their diagnosis dependent upon guess-work, -or an aching tooth, or rheumatic knee, or even upon intuition or -superstition, as in the case of the Indian. - -Woodlore they knew, and the names and habits of the wild things that -abounded in the woods of O Bar O. Insects, ants, butterflies, bees, -were known by their scientific names. A rainbow, a sunrise, sunset, -the morning mist, fog, the night sun of Alberta, the Japanese current -that brought the Chinook winds over the Rocky Mountains, that changed -the weather from thirty below zero to a tropical warmth in Alberta, the -melting clouds in the skies, the night rainbows--all these were not -merely beautiful phenomena, but the result of natural causes, of which -the McPherson children were able to give an intelligent explanation. - -They could ride the range and wield the lariat with the best of the -cowpunchers. Hilda could brand, vaccinate, dehorn, and wean cattle. -She was one of the best brand readers in the country, and she rode a -horse as if she were part of the animal itself. She could leap with the -agility of a circus rider upon the slippery back of a running outlaw, -and, without bridle or saddle, maintain her place upon a jumping, -bucking, kicking, wildly rearing “bronc.” - -Untamed and wild as the mavericks that, eluding the lariat of the -cowpuncher, roamed the range unbranded and unbroken, Hilda and Sandy -McPherson came up out of their childhood years, and paused like timid, -curious young creatures of the wild upon the perilous edge of maturity. - -Hilda was not without a comprehension of certain things in life that -had been denied her. If her heart was untamed, it was not the less -hungry and ardent. Though she realized that she had missed something -precious and desirable in life, she was possessed with a spartan and -sensitive pride. About her ignorance, she had erected a wall of it. - -It was all very well to ride thus freely over the splendid open spaces -and to wend her fearless way through the beckoning woods of the Rocky -Mountain foothills. It was fine to be part of a game which every day -showed the results of labour well done, and to know that such labour -was contributing to the upkeep and value of the world. Yet there were -times when a very wistful expression of wonder and longing would come -into the girl’s dark eyes, and the craving for something other than she -had known would make her heart burn within her. - -To appease this heart hunger, Hilda sought a medium through the -reading matter obtainable at O Bar O; but the reading matter consisted -of the Encyclopædia Brittanica, Darwin’s “Origin of the Species,” -several scientific works, and two voluminous works on the subject of -chess. - -For a time, the Encyclopædia afforded sufficient material to satisfy -at least her curiosity; but presently a new source was tapped. From -the bunkhouse came dime novels and the banned newspapers, which P. D. -had more than once denounced as “filthy truck fit for the intelligence -of morons only.” Besides these were the _Police Gazette_, two or -three penny dreadfuls, _Hearsts’_, and several lurid novels of the -blood-and-thunder type. This precious reading matter, borrowed or -“swiped” by Sandy and Hilda, while the men were on the range, was -secretly devoured in hayloft and other secure places of retreat, and -made a profound impression upon their eager young minds. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -At this time, P. D. McPherson held the title of Champion Chess Player -of Western Canada. He was, however, by no means proud or satisfied with -this honourable title to chess fame. - -Western Canada! One could count on the fingers of one hand the number -of real players in the whole of the west. P. D. had played with them -all. He considered it child’s play to have beaten them. P. D. had -issued a challenge not merely to the eastern holders of the title, but -across the line, where went his bid to contest the world’s title with -the Yankee holders of the same. - -P. D. dreamed and brooded over the day when he would win in an -international tournament that would include the chess players of -all the nations of the world. Meanwhile, it behooved him to keep in -practice, so that his skill and craft should abate by not a jot or a -tittle. - -He had taught his young son and daughter this noble game. Though -good players, they had inherited neither their parent’s craft nor -passion for it. Indeed, they had reason to fear and dislike chess as a -veritable enemy. Many a ranch or barn dance, many a gymkhana, rodeo, -stampede and Indian race; many a trip to Calgary or Banff had been -wiped off Hilda’s pleasure slate, as punishment for a careless move or -inattention when the ancient game was in progress. Many a night the -bitter-hearted Sandy had departed early, supperless, to bed, because of -a boyish trick of wriggling while his father debated in long-drawn-out -study and thought the desirability of such and such a move. - -Hilda and Sandy loved their father; yet his departure upon a scouting -expedition on the trail of a prospective chess player filled them -always with a sense of unholy elation and ecstatic freedom. - -P. D.’s good or bad humour upon his return to the ranch depended -entirely upon the success or failure of his quest. If success crowned -his pursuit, and his cravings were satisfied, P. D. returned, beaming -with good will upon the world in general and the inhabitants of O Bar -O in particular. On the other hand, should such excursions have proven -fruitless, the old monomaniac came back to his ranch in uncertain and -irascible humour. All hands upon the place then found it expedient and -wise to give him a wide berth, while his unfortunate son and daughter -were reduced to desperate extremities to escape his especial notice and -wrath. - -It should not be inferred from the foregoing that P. D. necessarily -neglected his ranching interests. Chess was a periodic malady with him. -The ranch was a permanent institution. O Bar O was the show-place of -the foothills and a matter of pride to the country. The smoothest of -beef, grass-fed steers, topped the market each year, when they went -forth from the ranch not merely to the local stockyards, but to Kansas -City, Montreal, St. Louis, and Chicago, in the latter place to compete -with success with the corn-feds of the U. S. A. - -At the fairs, over the country, O Bar O stock carried a majority of -the ribbons, and “Torchy,” a slim, black streak of lightning and fire, -brought undying fame to its owner by going over the bar of the annual -horse-show of Calgary, with Hilda upon his back, the highest peak ever -attained by a horse in Canada. - -A berth at O Bar O was coveted by all the riders and cowpunchers of the -country. The fame of the fine old ranch had crossed the line, in fact, -and had brought to the ranch some of the best of the bronco busters and -riders. The outfit could not, in fact, be beaten. The food was of the -best; the bunkhouses modern and clean; the work done in season and in -a rational number of hours per day; the wages were fair; first-class -stock to care for; a square foreman, and a bully boss. What more could -a man wish upon a cattle ranch? Pride permeated to every man-Jack upon -the place. Each sought to stand well in the eyes of P. D., and his -praise was a coveted thing, while his anger was something to escape, -and unlikely to be forgotten. - -P. D.’s praise took the form of a resounding, smashing clap upon the -shoulder, a prized assignment, and a bonus at the end of the month. -His anger took the form of an ungodly and most extraordinary string of -blistering and original curses, words being cut in half to slip curses -midway between as the torrent poured from the wrathful P. D. - -It may be mentioned in passing that P. D.’s son and his daughter had -inherited and were developing a quaint vocabulary of typical O Bar O -“cusses,” much to their father’s amazement and indignation. Indeed, -the first time P. D.’s attention was directed toward this talent of -his daughter--her voice was raised in shrill damning speech toward a -squawking hen who desired to sit upon a nest of eggs destined for the -house--the old fellow stopped midway in his strut across the barnyard, -overcome with dismay and anger. Every “hand” within sight and sound was -bawled to the presence of the irate parent, and upon them he poured -the vials of his wrath. - -“Where in hot hell did my daughter learn such language? You blocketty, -blinketty, gosh darned, sons of cooks and dish-washers have got to -cut out all this damned, cursed, hellish language when my daughter’s -around. D’you hear me?” - -And to the foreman! - -“Orders to your men, sir, no more damned cursing upon the place! -I’ll have you and your men know that this is O Bar O and not a -G-- D-- swearing camp for a blasted lot of bohunks.” - -This, then, was the outfit to which the seemingly guileless Englishman -had become attached. - -P. D., his bushy eyebrows twitching over bright old eyes, confirmed the -judgment of the foreman, that “a bite of entertainment won’t come amiss -at O Bar O” in the shape of the English tenderfoot. - -“Put him through the ropes, damn it. Get all the fun you want out of -him. Work the blasted hide off him. Make him sweat like hell to earn -his salt. Go as far as you like, but--” and here P. D.’s bushy eyebrows -drew together in an ominous frown, “give the man a damned square deal. -This is O Bar O, and we’ll have no G-- D-- reflections upon the place.” - -So the Englishman was “put through the ropes.” Despite his greenness -and seeming innocence, it is possible that he was wider awake than -any of the men who were working their wits to make his days and -nights exciting and uproarious. He played up to his part with seeming -ingenuousness and high good humour. If the hands of O Bar O regarded -him as a clown, a mountebank, a greenhorn, he played greener and -funnier than they had bargained for. - -He was given steers to milk. He was assigned the job of “housemaid, -nurse, chambermaid, and waitress” to the house barn stock. He fed -the pigs, and he did the chores of cook-car and bunkhouse. All the -small and mean jobs of the ranch were assigned to the newcomer. He -was constantly despatched upon foolish and piffling errands. For an -indefinite period, he was relegated to the woodpile of the cook-house. -This was a job that the average cowman scorned. The cowpuncher and -ranch rider consider any work not concerned with horse or cattle a -reflection upon their qualities as riders. Cheerio, however, acquired -a genuine fondness for that woodpile. He would chop away with -undiminished cheer and vigour, whistling as he worked, and at the end -of the day, he would sit on a log and contentedly smoke his pipe, as he -surveyed the fruit of his labours with palpable pride and even vanity. - -“Boastin’ of how many logs he’d split. Proud as a whole hen. Hell! -you can’t feaze a chap like that. He’d grin if you put’m to breakin’ -stones.” - -Thus Bully Bill to Holy Smoke, assistant foreman at the O Bar O. “Ho” -as he was known for short, scowled at that reference to breaking -stones, for Ho knew what that meant in another country across the -line. Out of the side of his mouth he shot: - -“Why don’t cha set ’im choppin’ real logs if he’s stuck on the job. -Stick ’im in the timber and see if he’ll whistle over his job then.” - -So “into the timber” went Cheerio, with strict orders to cut down ten -fifty-feet tall trees per day. He looked squarely into the face of -the assistant foreman, and said: “Righto,” and took the small hand -axe handed him by the solemn-faced Hootmon, whose tongue was in his -cheek, and who doubled over in silent mirth as soon as Cheerio’s back -was turned. But neither Mootmon, nor Ho, nor Bully Bill, nor, for that -matter, old P. D. or his son and daughter, laughed when at the end of -the day Cheerio returned with twelve trees to his credit for the day’s -work. It was, in fact, a matter of considerable wonder and speculation -as to the method employed by the Englishman to achieve those twelve -immense trees through the medium of that small hand axe. Cheerio went -on whistling, kept his own counsel, and was starting off the next -morning upon a similar errand when Bully Bill harkened to another -suggestion of his assistant, and beckoned him to the corrals. - -There was a wary-eyed, ominously still, maverick tied to a post, and -him Cheerio was ordered to mount. He said: - -“Hello, old man--waiting for me, what?” smiled at the boy holding his -head, and swung up into the saddle. - -“Now,” said Bully Bill. “You lookut here. You ride that bronc to hell -and back again, and break ’er cowboy if you have to break your own head -and hide and heart in doing it.” - -Then someone untied the halter rope, and the race was on. He was tossed -over and over again clear over the head of the wild maverick, and over -and over again he remounted, to be thrown again by the wildly kicking -bronco. Bruised and sore, with a cut lip and black eye, he pursued, -caught, and again and again mounted, again and again was thrown, to -mount once again, and to stick finally like glue to the horse’s back, -while the hooting, yelling ring of men surrounding the corrals--Hilda -and Sandy upon the railings--yelled themselves hoarse with derisive -comments and directions, and then went wild with amazed delight, when, -still upon the back of a subdued and shivering young outlaw, Cheerio -swept around the corrals. He arose in his stirrups now, himself -cheering lustily, and waving that newly-acquired O Bar O hat like a -boy. Even Hilda begrudged him not the well-earned cheers, though she -stifled back her own with her hand upon her mouth, when she found that -he had observed her, and with eyes kindling with pride, rode by. - -He was thumped upon the back, hailed as “a hellufafellow,” and enjoyed -the pronounced favour and patronage of Bully Bill himself, who brought -forth his grimy plug of chewing tobacco, and offered a “chaw” of it to -the Englishman. Cheerio bit into it with relish, nor showed any sign of -the nauseating effects of a weed he preferred in his pipe rather than -his mouth. - -As a matter of fact, like most Englishmen of his class, Cheerio was an -excellent rider, though his riding had not been of the sort peculiar -to cowboydom. However, it did not take him long to learn “the hang of -the thing.” He dropped his posting for the easy, cowboy lope, and he -discovered that, while one clung with his knees when on an English -saddle, such an action had painful and exhausting results with a stock -saddle. There really was something to Bully Bill’s simple formula: - -“Hell! There ain’t nothin’ to this here ridin’. All you got to do is -throw your leg over his back and--stick!” - -His English training, however, stood him in good stead. More than the -foreman at O Bar O noted and appreciated the fact that the newcomer was -as intimate with horses as if they were human brethren. - -From this time on, his progress at the ranch was swift, considering the -daily handicaps the men still continued to slip in his way. His courage -and grit won him at least the grudging respect of the men, though, try -as he might, to “pal” with the O Bar O “hands,” his overtures were met -with suspicion. - -There is about certain Englishmen, an atmosphere of superiority that -gives offence to men of the newer lands. The “hands” of the O Bar O -realized instinctively that this man belonged to another class and -caste than their own. No one in the outfit was in a mood to be what -he would have considered “patronized.” It was all very well to have a -whale of a good time “guying,” “stringing,” and making the tenderfoot -hop. That was part of the game, but when it came down to “pal-ing” with -a “guy,” who patronized the Ghost River for a daily bath, wielded a -matutinal razor, and had regard for the cleanliness of his underwear -as well as his overwear, that was a different proposition. Undaunted -by continual rebuffs, however, Cheerio pertinaciously and doggedly -continued to cultivate his “mates” of the bunkhouse, and at the end of -the second month he felt that he could call at least four of the men -his friends. - -Pink-eyed Jake vehemently and belligerently proclaimed him a -“damfinefellow.” This was after Cheerio had knocked him out in a -bout, in private, after enduring public bulldogging and browbeating. -Hootmon made no bones about expressing his conviction that Cheerio -was a “mon”! Neither he nor Cheerio revealed the fact that the better -part of Cheerio’s first month’s wages was in the coat pocket of the -Scotchman. The latter had a sick wife and a new baby in Calgary. Jim -Hull was unlikely to forget certain painful nights, when all hands in -the bunkhouse snored in blissful indifference to his groans, while -Cheerio had arisen in his “pink piejammies” and rubbed “painkiller” on -the rheumatic left limb. - -The foreman by this time had discovered that despite his stammering -tongue and singular ways, this lean and slight young Englishman could -“stand the gaff” of twenty-four hours at a stretch in the saddle, nor -“batted an eyelash” after a forty mile trip and back to Broken Nose -Lake, after a “bunch” of yearling steers, without a moment off his -horse, or a speck of grub till late at night. - -His love of nature, his enthusiasm over sunsets and sunrises, the -poetry he insisted upon inditing to the moon and the star-spotted -skies, to the jagged outline of those misty mountains, towering against -the sun-favoured sky, the pen pictures he drew of the men and the -silhouette shadows of ranch buildings and bush; the wild flowers he -carried into the bunkhouse and cherished with water and sun; these -and other “soft” actions, which had at first brought upon him the -amused contempt of the men, slowly won at last their rough respect and -approval. - -Came long evenings, when under the mellow beams of the Alberta night -sun, the wide-spreading hills and meadows seemed touched by a golden -spell, and a brooding silence reigned on all sides, then the low murmur -of Cheerio, half humming, half reciting the songs he had written of -home and friends across the sea, tightened something in the throats of -the toughest of the men and brought recollections of their own far-off -homes, so that with suspended pipes they strained forward the better to -catch each half-whispered word of the Englishman. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -One there was at O Bar O who could not be reconciled to Cheerio. -Hilda intuitively recognized the fact that this stranger on the -ranch belonged to that “upper world” of which she knew vaguely -through the medium of newspapers and tawdry literature emanating from -the bunkhouse. Even the Encyclopædia had furnished the girl with -information concerning kings and princes, lords and dukes, and earls -that abounded in diverse places in the old world. “Bloody parasites,” -her father had named them, “living for generations off the blood -and sweat and toil of the poor, blind underdogs who had not the -intelligence or the ‘sand’ to unseat them from power.” - -Her fiery young nature was up in arms at the thought of “that -Englishman’s patronage.” No doubt, thought the proud, hot-headed and -ignorant girl, “he looks down on us as poor Rubes. Well, we’ll show -him a thing or two,” and she urged the men on to torment and make -uneasy the life of Cheerio. - -Thorny and suspicious, with her free head toss, so characteristic of -her young, wild nature, her eyes intensely dark, fixed above his head, -or surveying him as from an amused and contemptuous height, Hilda -left no opportunity neglected to show her scorn and contempt for the -newcomer. She could not herself have diagnosed the reason for her -hostility. - -Sandy, on the other hand, had slowly but completely capitulated to the -man whose first appearance had so amused him. In Alberta, daylight -lingers, in the summer time, till as late as ten o’clock at night. When -the day’s work was done, Sandy and his new friend, would depart from -the ranch on a hunt that was new to the cattle country. They hunted, in -fact, for fossils, whitened, hardened bones of the original denizens of -the land that had existed before the Rocky Mountains had sprung into -being by some gigantic convulsion of nature. - -Zoology was a subject that exercised an uncanny fascination over the -mind of the red-haired boy. P. D. had scarcely begun the instruction -of this alluring subject when chess diverted him, much to the -disappointment and aggravation of his son. Cheerio, however, proved a -mine of information in this particular field. He had actually once been -a member of an archæological expedition to Thibet, from whose bowels -the bones of the oldest man in the world had been dug. Sandy could -have sat by the hour listening to the tales of that expedition and its -remarkable contribution to science. It was an even more enthralling -experience for the youngster, therefore, to personally explore the wild -canyons above the Ghost River, and, with bated excitement, himself -assist in picking out on the gigantic rocks what Cheerio definitely -proved were bones of a dinosaur. These immense reptiles of prehistoric -days were quite common to the Red Deer district, but the new “hand” of -the O Bar O had proven that they were to be found also along the Ghost -River canyons. - -Many a time, sitting on the bank of the river, waiting for the wary -trout to bite, the slowly-drawling, seldom-stammering Cheerio, pictured -to the bulging-eyed, open-mouthed youngster, the giant reptiles and -mountainous mammals of prehistoric days. He even drew life-like -pictures upon scraps of paper, which Sandy carefully cherished and -consigned to his treasure drawer. Sandy, at such times, came as near to -touching complete satisfaction with life as was possible. - -His defection, in favour of Cheerio, however, was a bitter pill for his -sister to swallow. Argue and squabble, wrangle and fight as the young -McPherson’s had done all of their lives, for they were of a healthy, -pugnacious disposition, they nevertheless had always been first-rate -chums, and in a way, a defensive and offensive alliance to which no -outsider had been permitted more than a look-in. Now “that Englishman” -had come between them, according to Hilda. Sandy evidently preferred -his society to that of his own and only sister. Thus, bitter Hilda. -Sandy upbraided, reproached and sneered at, grouchily allowed that she -could come along too if she wanted to and “didn’t interfere or talk too -much.” Girls, he brutally averred, were a doggone, darned old nuisance, -and always in the way when something real was being done. They were -well enough as ornaments, said Sandy, but the female of the species was -not meant for practical purposes and they ought to know and keep their -place, and if they wouldn’t do it, why they’d be made to. - -This was adding insult to injury. It proved beyond question that -someone had been “setting her brother against her,” and Hilda knew who -that someone was. Sandy knew absolutely nothing about the “female of -the species”--that, by the way, was a brand new expression to the young -McPhersons--and Hilda proposed to “teach him a thing or two” about -her much maligned sex. Also she would “spite that Englishman” who had -influenced her brother against her, by imposing her unwanted society -upon the explorers. - -Each evening, therefore, Hilda was on hand, and she arose before dawn -of a Sunday morning--a time when all hands on the ranch were accustomed -to sleep in late--to ride out with them under the grey-gold skies, with -the air fresh and sparkling, and such a stillness on all sides that one -felt loth to break it by even a murmur. - -She rode somewhat behind the “bone enthusiasts,” disdaining to ride -abreast with them, or to join in the unintelligible conversation that -presently would begin. No brush was too thick to hold back this girl -of the ranching country; no trail too intricate or tortuous. Foot -wide ledges, over precipices three and four hundred feet above the -river daunted her not. Hilda held her careless seat on the back of -her surefooted and fleet young Indian pony, and if the path crumbled -away in places too perilous for even a foothill horse to pass, Hilda -dismounted and led him, breaking a trail herself through dense timber -land. - -True, bones, whether of prehistoric man or mammal, had no actual -interest for the living girl. Sandy’s passion for such things indeed -puzzled and troubled her, inasmuch as she was unable to share it with -him. It was strangely sweet and pleasant, none the less, to ride out -in the quiet dawn or in the evening when the skies were bronzed and -reddened by the still lingering sun. With every day, they found new -trails, new byways, new depressions in the wild woods of O Bar O. - -On these excursions Sandy monopolized the conversation and, in a -measure, Hilda was ignored. Cheerio’s concern in her behalf when first -they had penetrated into difficult woods and his offer to lead her -horse had met with haughty and bitter rebuff. Hilda, indeed, rudely -suggested that she was better able to care for herself than he was. -Also she said: - -“Don’t bother about me. Ride on with Sandy. I like to ride alone, and I -don’t care for conversation when I ride.” - -Sandy more than made up for his sister’s conversational deficiency. -He was a human interrogation point, and his hunger for knowledge in -matters anent man and beast of ancient days was unquenchable. - -Hilda, riding a few paces behind, would listen to the endless -questions popped by the eager boy, and secretly marvel at the always -comprehensible replies of his companion. Sometimes she was tempted to -join in the discussions; but her opinions were never solicited by her -brother or Cheerio. As the two rode on, apparently oblivious of her -very existence, Hilda was torn with mixed emotions. She had scornfully -advised Cheerio not to bother her; nevertheless, she was indignant at -thus being ignored. “I might just as well be an old pack pony,” she -thought wrathfully. “I don’t know why I come along anyway. However, I’m -not going to turn back for that Englishman. Not if I know it.” - -Cheerio, on the other hand, was not insensible to that small, uplifted -chin and the disdainful glance of the dark eyes that seemed to harden -when they glanced in his direction. He was not versed in the ways of -a woman, or it may be that Hilda’s treatment of him would not have -wounded him so sorely. Cheerio was not stupid; but he was singularly -dense in certain matters. He pondered much over the matter of how he -could possibly have offended the girl, and the thought that she very -evidently disliked him was hard to bear. That cut deep. - -Many a night, pipe in mouth, upon the steps of the bunkhouse, Cheerio -would debate the matter within himself. Why did Hilda dislike him? What -was there about him that should arouse her especial scorn and contempt? -Why should her eyes harden and her whole personality seem to stiffen -at his approach? Almost it seemed as if the girl armoured herself -against him. He could find no answer to his questions, and his troubled -meditations would end with the dumping of his pipe, as he shook his -head again in the puzzle of womanhood, and ruefully turned in for the -night. Sometimes he would lie awake for hours, and wholly against his -will the vision of her small, dark face, with its scarlet lips and -deep brown eyes accompanied him into the world of sleep. - -About this time, he began to draw sketches of Hilda. He made them at -odd moments; at the noon hour, when he scratched them on the backs -of envelopes, slips of paper, a bit of cardboard torn from a box. -Presently parcels were brought by an Indian on horseback from the -Morley Trading Store, and after that Cheerio began to paint the face -of the girl whom he believed hated him. It is true that his model sat -not for him. Yet she was drawn from life, for his memory drew her back -as faithfully as though they were standing face to face. This was all -secret work, done in secret places, and packed away in the locked -portfolio, which was in that battered grip. Drawing and painting in -this way was not at all satisfactory to the artist, who felt that he -was not doing Hilda justice. His need of a place, where he might work, -undisturbed, was keenly felt by him. Cheerio, as before mentioned, -was the one “hand” at the ranch who daily visited the Ghost River for -bathing purposes. He would arise an hour before the other men and was -off on horse to the river, returning fresh and clean for breakfast -and the long day’s work. His explorations with Sandy and these daily -expeditions to the river had made him very well acquainted with the -Ghost River canyon. One day, scanning thoughtfully the rockbound -river, he perceived what appeared to be a declivity in the side of -a giant rock that jutted out several feet above the river. Out of -curiosity, Cheerio climbed up the cliff, and discovered a small cave, -part of which was so cleft that the light poured through. His first -thought was of Sandy, and the fun the boy would have exploring through -what was evidently a considerable tunnel. His next thought was that -on account of the nature of the earth, this might prove a dangerous -and hazardous undertaking for an adventurous youngster. Suddenly an -inspiration flashed over Cheerio. Here was the ideal studio. Not in -the tunnel, on whose ledge he could very well keep his work, but in -that round natural chamber near the opening, when the north light was -husbanded. It did not take him long to bring his drawing and painting -paraphernalia to his “studio,” and after a few days he fashioned a -rude sort of easel for himself. Here on a Sunday Cheerio worked, and -during that day of rest the ranch saw him not. He would carry his -lunch with him, and depart for the day, much to the bewilderment of -Hilda and the disappointment of Sandy, unwilling to abandon the Sunday -morning exploration trips. The cave was so situated that his privacy -was complete, and anyone coming along the top of the canyon or even -down the river itself could not have seen the man in the cave a few -feet above, quietly smoking and drawing those impressionistic pictures -of the ranch, the Indians, the cowboys, P. D., the overall-clad Sandy -and Hilda. Hilda on horse, flying like the wind at the head of the -cowboys; Hilda, loping slowly along the trail, with her head dropped -in a day dream, that brought somehow a singularly wistful and touching -expression of longing to the lovely young face; Hilda with hand on -hip, head tossed up, defiant, impudent, fascinating; Hilda’s head, with -its crown of chocolate-coloured hair and the darker eyes, the curiously -dusky red that seemed burned by the sun into her cheeks, and the lips -that were so vividly alive and scarlet. - -Of all his subjects, she alone he drew from memory. He had found no -difficulty in inducing his other subjects to “pose” for him. Even -P. D. with old pipe twisted in the corner of his mouth had made no -demur when Cheerio, pad and pencil in hand, seated on the steps of -the ranch-house rapidly sketched his employer. The Indians were a -never-failing source of inspiration to the artist. The chubby babies, -the child mothers, the tawny braves, the ragged, old, shuffling women; -Indian colours--magentas, yellows, orange, scarlet, cerise. They -furnished subjects for the artist that made his paintings seem fairly -to blaze with light, and later were to win for him well-deserved fame -and monetary reward. Cheerio would take these miniature sketches to -his studio, and there enlarge them. Hilda, however, whom above all -things in the world, he desired to paint, somehow eluded him. No matter -how lifelike or well-drawn his pictures of this girl, they never wholly -satisfied him. Indeed it was not one of his drawings, but a little -kodak picture of her, acquired from Sandy, that found its way into the -ancient locket, where previously had been the picture of the woman with -the long sleepy eyes and dead-gold hair. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -Purely by accident, the wall of reserve that Hilda had reared between -herself and Cheerio was, for the nonce at least, removed. Sandy had -desired to go over a certain cliff, incredibly steep and slippery and -four hundred feet above the river. Now Sandy could climb up and down -places with the agility and sureness of a mountain goat, but even a -mountain goat would have hesitated to go over the side of that cliff. - -Hilda came out of her absent trance with a start, as she realized the -intention of the daring and reckless youngster. Over an out-jutting -rock Sandy was poised. - -“Sandy McPherson! You cut out that darned nonsense. You can’t go down -there. It’s too doggone steep.” - -“Guess I can if I want to,” retorted the boy, looking over the perilous -edge and scrutinizing the grade for any possible root or tree stump -upon which he might grasp in an emergency. “Say,” his head jerked -sideways toward Cheerio, who had dismounted himself to investigate the -situation. “Will you look after Silver Heels till I get back? ’Tain’t -safe for _him_ to go over, but I’ll be Jake.” - -“Sandy! You come back! Dad said the earth wasn’t safe under those rocks -there, and any minute one of ’em might roll over. That rock’s moving -now! Sandy! Oh, stop him! D-d-don’t let--him! _Please!_” - -She had appealed to Cheerio. It was the first request she had ever made -of him. Instantly he grasped the arm of her brother. - -“Come on, old man. There’s a prospect over yonder that looks a jolly -sight better than down there.” - -“Aw, girls give me a pain,” declared the disgusted Sandy. “What do they -want to come spyin’ along for anyway, and throwin’ fits about nothin’. -What do they know about dinosauruses or anything else, I’d like to -know?” - -“On you go, old man!” - -He had hoisted the grumbling boy upon his horse. Sandy raced angrily -ahead. Cheerio looked at Hilda with the expectant boyish smile of one -hoping for reward. He had “taken her part.” Thanks were his due. Thanks -indeed he did not get. Hilda’s glance met his own only for a moment and -then she said, while the deep colour flooded all of her face and neck: - -“Now you can see for yourself what your fool expeditions might lead -to. Sandy’s the only brother I have in the world, and first thing you -know he’ll be going over one of those cliffs and then--then--you’ll be -entirely to blame.” - -Discomfited, Cheerio lost the use of his tongue. After a moment he -inquired, somewhat dejectedly: - -“Sh-shall we c-c-c-call them off then?” - -Hilda was unprepared for this. Though she would not have admitted it to -herself for anything in the world, those evening rides were becoming -the most important events in her life. Indeed, she found herself -looking forward to and thinking of them all day. Faced now with the -possibility of their being ended, she said hurriedly and with a slight -catching of her breath that made Cheerio look at her with an odd fixity -of expression: - -“No, no--of course not. I wouldn’t want to disappoint my brother, b-but -I can’t trust that boy alone. I’ve always taken care of Sandy. That’s -why I come along. Sandy’s just a little boy, you know.” - -How that “little boy” would have snarled with wrath at his sister’s -designation! Even Cheerio’s eyes twinkled, and Hilda, to cover up her -own embarrassment, hastily pressed her heel into her horse’s flank, and -for the first time she suffered him to ride along beside her. - -It was intensely still and a dim golden haze lay like a dream over all -the sky and the land, merging them into one. Into this glow rode the -girl of the ranching country and the man from the old land across the -sea. The air was balmy and full of the essence of summer. There was -the sweet odour of recently-cut hay and green feed and a suave wind -whispered and fragrantly fanned the perfumed air about them. They came -out of the woods directly into the hay lands and passed through fields -of thick oats already turning golden. A strange new emotion, a feeling -that pained by its very sweetness was slowly growing into being in the -untutored heart of the girl of the foothills. Glancing sideways at the -man’s fine, clean-cut profile, his gaze bent straight ahead, Hilda -caught her breath with a sudden fear of she knew not what. Why was it, -she asked herself passionately, that she was unable to speak to this -man as to other men? Why could she scarcely meet his clear, straight -glance, which seemed always to question her own so wistfully? What -was the matter with her and with him that his mere presence near her -moved her so strangely? Why was she riding alone with him now in this -strange, electrical silence? As the troubled questions came tumbling -over one another through the girl’s mind, Cheerio suddenly turned in -his saddle and directly sought her gaze. A wonderful, a winning smile, -which made Hilda think of the sunshine about them, broke over the man’s -face. She was conscious of the terrifying fact that that smile awoke in -her breast tumultuous alarms and clamours. She feared it more than a -hostile glance. Feared the very friendly and winning quality of it. - -Impetuously the girl dug her little spurred heels into her horse’s -flanks and rode swiftly ahead. - -It was nearly ten o’clock, yet the skies were incredibly bright and -in the west above the wide range of mountains, shone the splendour -of a late sunset, red, gold, purple, magenta and blue. All of the -country seemed tinted by the reflected glow of the night sun. Hilda, -riding breathlessly along, had the sense of one in a race, running to -escape that which was pursuing her. On and on, neck and neck with the -galloping horse beside her, and feeling its rider’s gaze still bent -solely upon her. - -Presently there was a slackening of the running speed; gradually the -galloping turned to the shorter trot. Daisy and Jim Crow, panting from -the long race, slowed down to a lope. Some of the fever had run out of -Hilda’s blood and she had recovered her composure. - -Silence for a long interval, while they rode steadily on into the -immense sun glow. Then: - -“R-ripping, isn’t it?” said the man, softly. - -“Meaning what?” demanded the girl, angry with herself that her voice -was tremulous. - -Almost they seemed to be riding into the sky itself. Sky and earth had -the curious phenomenon of being one. - -“Everything,” he replied, with an eloquent motion of his hand. “It’s a -r-ripping--land! I’m jolly glad I came.” - -“I don’t suppose,” said Hilda, “that you have skies like this in -England.” - -“Hardly.” - -“It’s foggy and dark there, I’ve heard,” said Hilda. - -He glanced at her, as if slightly surprised. - -“Why no, that hardly describes it, you know.” - -He was thoughtful a moment, and then said, with a smile, as if glad to -reassure her: - -“It’s a dashed fine place, all the same. C-carn’t beat it, you know.” - -That brought the girl’s chin up. For some reason, she could not have -analyzed, it hurt and offended her to hear him praising the land from -which he had come. - -“Hm! I wonder why Englishmen who think so darned much of their own old -land bother to come to wild outlandish places like Canada.” - -If she had expected him to deny that Canada was wild and outlandish she -was to be disappointed, for he replied eagerly: - -“Oh, by Jove! th-that’s wh-why we like it, you know. It’s--it’s -exhilarating--the difference--the change from things over there. One -gets in a rut in the old land and travel is our only antidote.” - -Hilda had never travelled. She had never been outside the Province of -Alberta. Calgary and Banff were the only cities Hilda had ever been in. -She was conscious now of a sense of extreme bitterness and pain. Like -some young wounded creature who strikes out blindly when hurt, Hilda -said: - -“Look here, Mr.----er----Whatever your name is, if you Englishmen just -come out to Canada out of curiosity and to----” - -“But, my dear child, Canada is part of us! We’re all one family. I’m at -home here.” - -“No, you’re not. You’re a fish out of water.” - -“I s-say----” - -“And look here, I don’t let anyone call me ‘dear child.’ I won’t be -patronized by you or anyone like you. I’m not a child anyway. I’m -eighteen and that’s being of age, if you want to know.” - -He could not restrain the smile that came despite himself at this -childish statement. Hilda’s face darkened, and her eyelids were -smarting with the angry tears that, much to her indignation, seemed to -be trying to force their way through. She said roughly, in an effort to -hide the impending storm: - -“Anyway you can’t tell me that there is anything whatsoever in England -to compare with--that--for instance.” - -Her quirt made an eloquent motion toward the west, along the complete -horizon of which the long line of jagged peaks were silhouetted against -the gilded skies. - -“Righto!” said the man, softly and then after a pause he added almost -gently, and as if he were recalling something to memory: “But I doubt -if there’s anything rarer than our English country lanes--lawns--fine -old places--the streams--but you must see it all some day.” - -When he spoke, when he looked like that, with the faraway absent -expression in his eyes. Hilda had a passionate sense of rebellion and -resentment. For some reason she could not have explained she begrudged -him his thought of England. It tormented her to think that the man -beside her was homesick. Her quirt flicked above Daisy’s neck. A short -swift gallop and back again to the lope of the cow ponies. The ride had -whipped the colour into her cheeks and brought back the fire to her -eyes. She was ready now with the burning questions that for days she -had ached to have answered. - -“If England’s such a remarkable place, why do you come to Canada to -make a home for this--what was her name, did you say?” - -“Her name? Oh, I see--you mean--Nanna.” - -He said the name softly, almost tenderly, and Hilda’s breath came and -went with the sudden surge of unreasonable fury that swept over her. He -answered her lightly, deliberately begging the question. - -“Why not? This is the p-p-promised land!” - -“Are you making fun of Canada?” she demanded imperiously. - -“No--never. I s-said that quite seriously.” - -She shot her next question roughly. She was determined to know the -exact relationship of this Nanna to the man beside her. Undoubtedly she -was the woman of the locket, whose fair, lovely face Hilda was seeing -in imagination too often these days for her peace of mind. - -“Is she your sister?” - -“Oh, no. No relation whatever. At least, no blood relation.” - -“I see. I sup-pose you think her very--pretty?” - -“Lovely,” said Cheerio. Something had leaped into his eyes--something -bright and eager. He leaned toward Hilda with the impulse to confide -in her, but the look on the girl’s face repelled him, so that he drew -back confounded and puzzled. Hilda set her little white teeth tightly -together, put up her nose, and, with a toss of her head, said: - -“For goodness sakes, let’s get home. Hi, Daisy! get a wiggle on you, -you old poke.” - -She was off on the last lap of the journey. - -In her room, she faced herself in the wide mirror and revealed a -remarkable circumstance so far as she was concerned. Tears, bitter and -scorching, were running down her face. Clinching her hands, she said to -the tear-stained vision in the mirror: - -“It’s just because I hate him so! Oh, how I hate him. I never knew -anyone in all the days of my life that I hated so much before and I’d -give anything on earth if only I could just _hurt_ him!” - -Hurt him she did, for the following evening when he brought her horse, -saddled and ready for her, to the front of the ranch house, Hilda, in -the swinging couch on the verandah apparently deeply absorbed in a -dictionary, looked up coolly, and inquired what the hell he was doing -with her horse. - -“Wh-why I th-th-thought you would be coming with us as usual,” said the -surprised Cheerio. - -“No thank you, and I’m quite able to saddle my own horse when I want -to go,” said Hilda, and returned to a deep perusal of the dictionary. -But the crestfallen and puzzled Cheerio did not see her, as on tiptoe, -she stole around the side of the house, to catch a last glimpse of him -as he rode out with Sandy beside him. Her cheeks were hot and her eyes -humid with undropped tears as over the still evening air her brother’s -shrill young voice floated: - -“Hilda not coming! Gee! we’re in _luck_! _Now_ we can go over the -cliff!” - -Hilda didn’t care just then whether that brother of hers went over the -cliff or not. She felt forsaken, bitter, ill-used and extremely unhappy -and forlorn. But she had had her last ride in the magical evenings on a -dinosaur quest. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -“Say, Hilda, guess what I found to-day? I didn’t reckernize it at -first until he said it was his. Viper rooted it up right under his -window outside the bunkhouse. Well, I found that picture of his girl -that he keeps in that locket. It must’ve slipped out, and Viper nearly -chewed it up. So I yipped to him to come on out and I give it up to -him and I says: ‘Whose her nibs anyway,’ and he says: ‘Someone I used -to know,’ and I says: ‘Don’t you know her still?’ and he says: ‘Oh, -yes, oh, yes,’ and he was lookin’ just as if he wasn’t hearin’ a word -I was saying and he says as if he was talking to himself; ‘She was -to have been my wife, you know.’ Just like that. Then he got up and -he looked kind of queer, and he went on inside and come on out again -with that locket in his hand and he sits down beside me on the steps -and smokes without saying a word. So then I said, just to kid him: -‘Say, I’ll give you two of my buffalow skulls for that bit of dinky -tin,’ meaning the locket, and he dumps his pipe and gives me the laugh -and he says: ‘Nothing doing, old man. The sweetest girl in the world -is enshined’--that’s what he said--‘right inside that “dinky bit of -tin”!’” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Sitting in the sunlight on the wide steps of the ranch house, chin -cupped in her hands, her glance far off across the mountain tops, her -thoughts wandering over the seas that stretched between the Dominion -of Canada and the Mother-land, Hilda McPherson came out of her deep -reverie to find the object of her thoughts standing before her. He had -a book in his hand and with the sunny, engaging almost boyish smile -that was characteristic of him he was tendering it to the girl on the -steps. - -For some days Cheerio’s discourse on mastodons, dinosaurs and the -various species of the prehistoric days had been extremely vague -and unsatisfactory to his disciple. Matters reached a climax upon -this especial Sunday, when he had wandered from the matter of a -fossil skeleton recently discovered on the Red Deer River, said to -be one hundred and sixty feet long and at least seventy feet tall, -with a sudden question that brought a snort of disgust from the -intensely-interested Sandy. - -“What’s _she_ got to do with the Mezzozoic age?” he exploded. - -(Note: Cheerio had digressed from the absorbing matter of the age of -the Red Deer dinosaurs, to ask suddenly whether Hilda was likely to -be riding with a certain bachelor rancher whose bronco was tied to -the front of the ranch house when the reluctant Cheerio and Sandy had -ridden away that morning.) - -“I s-s-suppose,” stuttered Cheerio, “that your s-s-sister w-w-will -probably be riding with her caller at the r-r-ranch.” - -Sandy’s reply was neither enlightening nor respectful. He glimpsed -his friend with the shrewd unflattering scrutiny of a wise one, and -presently: - -“Say, you don’t mean to tell me that _you’re_ gettin’ stuck on her too!” - -That was a disturbing question, and moreover a revealing one. It -plainly disclosed to the upset Cheerio that there were others “stuck -on” Hilda. In fact, Sandy left no room for doubt as to that. - -“Holy Hens!” went on Hilda’s brother. “Half the guys in this country’s -got a case on _her_! I don’t know what they see in her. Should think -_you’d_ have more common sense than to pile along in too.” - -“Hilda’s eyes,” said the Englishman softly, “are as b-brown as loamy -soil. They’re like the dark earth, warm and rich and full of promise.” - -“Oh, my God--frey!” groaned Sandy and rolled clear down the grassy -slope on which they had been sitting to the more intelligent and -sane company of Viper, a yellow and unlovely cur who was, however, -the private and personal property of Sandy. Viper was at that moment -“snooping” above a gopher hole. One intelligent eye and ear cocked -up warily, signalled with canine telepathy to his master and pal the -warning: - -“Careful! She’s under there! Don’t let on you and me are above her. -I’ll get her for you. You’ll have another tail for your collection. -Don’t forget there’s a gymkhana over at the Minnehaha ranch next month -and the prize for the most gopher tails is five plunks.” - -To this unspoken but perfectly comprehensible message, Sandy replied: - -“Betchu we get his tail, Viper! Betchu I take the prize this year! I -got seventy-five now. Make it seventy-six, Viper, and I’ll give you -eight bones for dinner to-night.” - -Cheerio, meanwhile, ruminating painfully upon Sandy’s revelation, -and also upon that bronco tied to front of the ranch house, and its -good-looking owner who was inside, unable to endure the picture his -mind conjured of Hilda riding off with her caller into their own (his -and Hilda’s) especial sun glow, jumped in a hurry upon Jim Crow’s back, -and with the best of intentions sped back to O Bar O. - -It was Sunday afternoon, and such of the ranch hands as were not off -on some courting or hunting or fishing or riding expedition, were -stretched out on the various cots that lined the long bunkhouse taking -their weekly siesta. Cheerio himself was accustomed to spend his -Sundays in his cave studio, but in these latter days--since in fact -Hilda had ceased to ride with them in the evenings--even the painting -had lost its charm for him. He spent his Sundays in the near vicinity -of the ranch house, his hopeful eyes pinned upon that wide verandah on -to which the girl now so seldom came. - -Occasionally, as on this Sunday, Sandy would induce him into short -excursions from the ranch, but Cheerio was restless and unsettled now, -and far from being the satisfactory companion and oracle upon whom -Sandy had depended. - -Now as Cheerio paused at the bunkhouse, he turned over in his mind -such small treasures as he possessed. He had a most ardent desire to -endow Hilda with one or all of his possessions. He was obsessed with -a longing to lay his hands upon certain treasures of a great house -that should have been his own. His possessions at the ranch were -modest enough. His wages had been spent mainly for paint and books. He -surveyed the crude, but adequate, book-case he had built himself, and -scanned the volumes laid upon the shelves. After all, one could offer -no finer gift than a book. He chose carefully, with a thought rather -for what might appeal especially to a girl of Hilda’s type than his own -preferences. - -As he came around the side of the house, he perceived that the bronco -was gone. A momentary heartshake over the thought that Hilda might have -gone with it, and then a great thumping of that sensitive organ as he -saw the girl upon the steps. She was sitting in the sunlight, staring -out before her in a day dream. Something in the mute droop of the -expressive young mouth and the slight shadow cast by the lashes against -her cheek gave Hilda a look of singular sadness and depression and -sent her caller impetuously hurrying toward her. He had come, in fact, -directly in front of her, before the eyes were lifted and Hilda looked -back at him. Slowly the colour swept like the dawn over her young face, -as he extended the book, stammering and blushing in his boyish way. - -“M-m-m-miss Hilda, I r-r-recommend this f-for b-b-both pleasure and -information. It’s p-p-part of one’s education to read Dumas.” - -Education! The word was inflammatory. It was an affront to her pride. -He was rubbing in the fact of her appalling ignorance. That was her -own affair--her own misfortune. Hilda sprang to her feet, up in arms, -on the defensive and the offensive. While the astonished Cheerio still -extended the book--a silent peace offering--Hilda’s dark head tossed -up, in that characteristic motion, while her foot stamped the ground. - -“I don’t care for that kind of rot, thank you. My dad’s right. It’s -better to be real people in the world rather than fake folk in a book.” - -Again the head toss and the blaze of angry wide eyes; then, swift as a -fawn, Hilda sped across the verandah and the ranch house door banged -hard. - -Thus might have ended the Dumas incident, but on the following day, -when the men were all out on the range, she who had spurned “The Three -Musketeers” slipped out of the ranch house, over to the grove of trees -to the east and running behind the shelter of these, so that Chum Lee -should not see her as she passed, made her way swiftly to the bunkhouse. - -Bunkhouses in a ranching country are not savoury or attractive places -as a general rule. This of the O Bar O was “not too bad” as the -expression goes in Alberta. It had the virtue at all events of being -clean, thanks to the assiduous care of Chum Lee. Moreover, shiftless -and dirty fellows found a short job at O Bar O. Hats and caps, hide -shirts, buckskin breeks, chaps and coats were all, therefore, neatly -hung along the wall on the row of deer horns, while under these were -piled on the long shelf the puttees, boots and other gear of the riders. - -The bunkhouse was lavishly decorated, the entire walls being covered -with pictures cut from magazines or newspapers or from other sources -and pasted or tacked upon the wall. Ladies in skin tights of rounded -and ample curves, in poses calculated to attract the attention of the -opposite sex, ravishing beauties, all more or less with that stage -smile in which all of the dental equipment of their owners, alluringly -displayed, beamed down above the beds of the riders of O Bar O. Hilda -had seen these often before and they had no especial interest for her. -Her glance travelled instead to the long table on which was piled the -treasured possessions of the men, correspondence boxes, tobacco, pipes, -jack-knives, quirts, gloves, letters and photographs of friends and -relatives. Nothing on that table would likely belong to him. Nothing -suggested Cheerio. Her eye went slowly down the row of beds till it -came to rest upon that one pulled out from the wall till the head was -thrust directly under the widely opened window, by the side of which -stood the crude book-case and stand. She paused only a moment and then -swiftly crossed to the Englishman’s bed. - -Three of the shelves were filled tightly with books and the bottom one -held a writing folio and sketch tablet. This Hilda seized upon, but -stopped before opening it, while the colour receded from her cheeks. -Within that folio, perhaps, would be found some clue, some letter from -the woman he loved. Yes, Hilda faced the fact that Cheerio loved the -woman whose pictured face was in the locket, and for whom he had come -to Canada to make a home. As she held the folio in her hand, she felt -a passionate impulse of shame that fought her natural curiosity, and -caused her to put the thing back upon the shelf. No! She had not come -to the bunkhouse to spy into a man’s correspondence. It was only that -she suffered from an unconquerable hunger merely again to see the other -woman’s face; to study it, to compare it with her own--Oh! to destroy -it! But no, no--she would not stoop so low as to look at something -which he did not wish her to see. - -The book was a different matter. He had offered it to her. It was -therefore really her own. Thus argued Hilda within herself. A quick -search along the shelves and she had picked out the volume she sought. -It was marked number one in the row of books by Alexandre Dumas. -Thrusting it under her cape, Hilda hurried to the door, and once again -like a scared child who has been stealing apples, she slipped behind -the sheltering bushes, came from behind them into the open and sped -across the yard to the house. - -All of that morning, Hilda McPherson was dead to the world. Lying on -the great fragrant heap in the hay loft, she lost herself in the meshes -of one of the most entrancing romances that has ever been penned by the -hand of man. She emerged from her retreat at the dinner hour, brought -back to earth by the arrival of the “hands” in the barn below. It was -haying time and the men came in from the fields for their noon meal. -Certain of the horses were changed and relieved and brought to the -stables for especial feeding. Hiding her precious book under a pile of -hay in a corner of the loft, Hilda descended, and still under the spell -of the book she had been reading all morning, made her way to the house. - -It so happened, that in her absorption, she had paid little attention -to Sandy’s dog, who leaped up at her as she passed, capered around her, -sought to lick her hands and otherwise ingratiate himself. Absently -Hilda ordered him down. - -“That will do, Viper! Now cut it out! Get away! Get away! Shoooo-o-o! -Bad dog! Down!” - -Duly admonished, spirits but slightly dampened, Viper repaired to -the barn, where for a spell, with his tongue hanging out and panting -from recent long runs across the land after his master on horse, he -endeavoured to attract the attention of such hands as were still in the -barn by an occasional yelp and a moan of protest when at last the doors -were shut upon him. - -For a little while Viper rested in one of the stalls; then being young -and of an active disposition he arose and stretched himself and looked -about him for diversion. In the natural course of events, having tired -of chasing the various hens from the stalls and vainly snapping at -persistent fleas, he sniffed along the trail over which his young -mistress (he regarded her as such) had passed. In due time, therefore, -Viper arrived in the loft. Also in the natural course of events, he -nosed around and dug under the hay, disclosing the hidden book. He -carried this treasure below in his mouth, and was having quite a jolly -time with it, growling and barking and shaking it and alternatively -letting it go and then pouncing upon it, when he was interrupted by a -well-known and much-beloved and sometimes feared whistle. Joyously, -proudly, triumphantly Viper brought his find to his master, and with -the pride of a new mother, laid it at Sandy’s feet. Wagging his tail -furiously and emitting short, sharp yelps which spoke as eloquently as -mere words the dog’s demand for well-earned praise, he was rewarded -from various pockets of Sandy’s overalls. The prizes consisted of bones -and other edibles “swiped” from the kitchen through which Sandy had -passed like a streak en route to join his dog in the barn. - -Sandy now squinted appraisingly over the printed lines of that -now ragged volume. Presently his attention was drawn to one living -line that flashed from the page with the swift play of the sword of -D’Artagnan. Sandy’s mouth gaped, and his gaze grew intent. Presently, -still reading, he retired from the barn, and, followed by Viper, -climbed aboard a huge hay wagon that stood beneath the open window of -the big loft. - -All of that afternoon Hilda McPherson searched in vain for “The Three -Musketeers.” The mystery of its disappearance from the loft tormented -her, for she had reached a portion of the tale that had to be finished. -What had become of Porthos when--Hilda felt that she had to know the -sequel of that especial episode “or bust” with unsatisfied curiosity. -The story had seized upon her imagination. - -The blazing sunlight of the July afternoon was softening and the -mellow tone that would presently settle into the misty gleam of the -reluctantly-ending day was beginning to tint the land, when Hilda -looked forth from the hay loft window and perceived something directly -below her that was brick red in colour. It stuck out from a loaded hay -wagon. His dog curled beside him, half buried in the deep hay, book -propped before him, Sandy, as his sister had done, had dropped out of -this world of ours and was soaring into realms of another time. - -Hilda’s eyes widened with amazement and righteous indignation. A -moment of pause only, poised on the window sill of the loft. Then down -she dropped squarely into the lap of the great hay wagon. There was -the smothered sound of murmuring and scrambling under the hay; the -delighted bark of the entertained dog, uncertain whether this was a -contest or a game, and then two heads, plentifully besprinkled with -straw and hay arose to the surface and two wrathful, angry faces glared -across at each other. - -“That’s mine!” - -“It ain’t!” - -“It is, I say. I had it first.” - -“Don’t care if you did. Viper found it.” - -“That cur stole it. I hid it in the loft. You give it up to me, do you -hear me?” - -“Yeeh, don’t you see me givin’ it up. My dog found it for me, and -finding’s keepings, see?” - -“Sandy, you give me that book, or you’ll be sorry. It’s mine.” - -“Prove it then.” - -A tussle, a tug, a tremendous pull; back and forth, a fierce wrestle; -a scramble and sprawl over the hay; a whoop of triumph from Hilda as -on the edge of the wagon, with Sandy temporarily restrained by the hay -under which she had buried him, she paused a second ere she dropped to -the ground almost into the arms of the highly-edified Cheerio. - -Sandy at last freed from his prison of hay was upon her tracks, and -with a blood-curdling yell of vengeance he leaped to the ground beside -her. - -“You gimme that book!” - -At the sight of Cheerio, Hilda’s clasp of the book had relaxed and it -was therefore a cinch for the attacking Sandy to seize and regain -possession of the disputed treasure. From the boy to the girl the -quizzical glance of the Englishman turned. - -“I s-say, old man, b-believe that’s m-my book, d’you know.” - -“Then she mus’ve swiped it, ’cause Viper found it in the hay loft and -that’s where she always hides to read, so Dad won’t ketch her.” - -Hilda had turned first white and then rosily red. She felt that her -face was scorching and smarting tears bit at her eyelids waiting to -drop. One indeed did roll down the round sun-burnt cheek and splashed -visibly upon her hand right before the now thoroughly concerned -Cheerio. His face stiffened sternly as he looked at Sandy, and reaching -over he recovered his book. Quietly he extended it to Hilda. Sandy -thereupon pressed his claim in loud and emphatic language. - -“That ain’t fair. She’s just turnin’ on her old water-works so’s to -make you give her the book. It ain’t fair. I’m just up to that part -where Porthos and----” - -Hilda made no motion to take the book. Two more tears rolled to join -their first companion. Hilda could no more have stayed the course of -those flowing tears than she could have dammed up the ocean with her -little hand. She was forced to stand there, openly crying, before the -man she had so often assured herself that she hated. Far from “gloating -over” her humiliation as she imagined he was doing, Cheerio, as he -looked at the weeping girl, was himself consumed with the most tender -of emotions. He longed to take her into his arms and to comfort and -reassure her. - -“Tell you what I’ll do,” said Cheerio, gently. “I’ll read the story to -you both. What do you say? An hour or two every evening while the light -lasts. Wh-when we’re through with this one, w-we’ll tackle others. -There’s three sequels to this, and we’ll read them all. Then we’ll go -at the ‘Count of Monte Christo.’ Th-that’s a remarkable yarn!” - -“Three sequels! My aunt’s old hat!” yelled the delighted Sandy, tossing -his ragged head gear into the air. “Gee whillikins!” - -But Cheerio was looking at Hilda, intently, appealingly. Her face had -lighted, and a strange shyness seemed to come over it, reluctantly, -sweetly. The long lashes quivered. She looked into the beaming face -bent eagerly toward her own, and for the first time since they had -met, right through her tears that still persisted strangely enough in -dropping, she smiled at Cheerio. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -“And they saw by the red flashes of the lightning against the violet -fog at six paces behind the governor, a man clothed in black and masked -by a visor of polished steel, soldered to a helmet of the same nature, -which altogether enveloped him.... - -“‘Come, monsieur,’ said Saint Mars sharply to the prisoner--‘Monsieur, -come on.’ - -“‘Say, “Monseigneur,”’ cried Athos from his corner, with a voice so -terrible that the governor trembled from head to foot. Athos insisted -upon respect being paid to fallen majesty. The prisoner turned around. - -“‘Who spoke?’ said Saint Mars. - -“‘It was I,’ said D’Artagnan. - -“‘Call me neither “monsieur” nor “monseigneur,”’ said the -prisoner--‘Call me “Accursed.”’ - -“He passed on, and the iron door creaked after him.” - -“Ten o’clock!” - -“Oh-h!” - -“It’s not--not quite ten. Your watch’s slow.” - -“Ten minutes after,” declared Cheerio, hiding a smile as he glanced at -his watch in the slightly waning light. - -A murmur of protest from Hilda, and a growl from Sandy, ready to argue -the point. It seemed as if they always reached the most thrilling part -of the narrative when “ten o’clock” the limit hour set for the end of -the reading would come and Cheerio would, with seeming reluctance, -close the enthralling book. - -The readings had been substituted for the daily riding trips. The -adventures of “The Three Musketeers” were proving of even more -enthralling interest to Sandy than the fossilized bones of the early -inhabitants of the North American continent. No dime novel of the most -lurid sort had had the power to fascinate or appeal to the imagination -of the young McPhersons as this masterpiece of the elder Dumas. They -were literally transplanted in thought into the France of the Grande -Monarche. - -Hilda indeed so lost herself each night in the chronicle that she -forgot her grudge against the reader, and sat on one side of him almost -as closely, peering over his arm at the page, as Sandy on the other -side. Of course, the steps were not wide and barely accommodated the -three and Hilda’s place was next to the wall. Cheerio sat between the -two. - -After the readings there would follow an excited discussion of the -story that was almost as interesting as the tale itself. It was -astonishing how much this Englishman knew about France in the time of -Louis the XIV. Sandy would pepper him with questions, and sometimes -sought to entrap him into returning to the tale. - -“What was Aramis doing at that time? I betchu he had a finger in it all -the time. Was he a regular priest? - -“If I’d a been D’Artagnan you bet I’d ’ve stood up for the Man in the -Iron Mask. I betchu he’d ’ve made a better king than Louis. Couldn’t -you read just as far as where they take the mask off? Did they ever -take it off? Say, if you set your watch by Chum Lee’s clock, he’s eight -minutes and----” - -“The clock’s all right, old man. To-morrow’ll be here soon. It’s -getting pretty dark now anyway.” - -“Oh, that don’t mean it’s late, and I c’d get a lantern if you like. -Days are shorter now in Alberta. Before long we won’t have any night -light at all, ’cept the star and moon kind.” - -Hilda was as concerned in the fortunes of the Musketeers as her -brother, but she was obliged to curb her curiosity. With the ending -of the reading, her diffidence and restraint would gradually creep -back upon her. She was not going to let this man know how throbbingly -interested she was. She did not wish him to know how limited had been -her reading up to this time. That was a family skeleton that was none -of his business, and she could have given Sandy a hard shaking when he -disclosed to Cheerio the type of literature that he and Hilda had been -“raised on.” Cheerio, with intense seriousness, assured them that their -father was “dead right.” That sort of reading, as P. D. had declared, -was “truck.” - -“Well, it’s all there is anyway,” defended Sandy. - -“Not by a jugful, old man. There’s no limit to the amount of books in -this good old world of ours--fine stuff, like this, Sandy. Some day -you’ll look upon them as friends--living friends.” - -“Gee! I wisht I knew where I could get ’em then.” - -“Why you can get all the books you want in the public library and in -the b-book stores.” - -“That’s easy enough to say,” burst from Hilda, “but Dad never gives us -time when we go to Calgary to get anywhere near a library, and he’d -have a fit if we were to buy books. He says that he’ll choose all that -we need to read, and he doesn’t believe in stories or fiction and books -like that. He says it’s all made-up stuff and what we want to read--to -study, he says--is Truth.” - -“Hmph!” from Sandy. “Yes, Mister Darwin and Mister Huxley and a lot -of for’n stuff. He’s got a heap of French and German books, but a lot -of good they do us, since we can’t read ’em. He’s got five volumes of -chess alone, and books and books ’bout cattle and pigs and horses. Just -s’f any boy wanted to read that sort of bunk. It’s a doggone shame. -If it wasn’t for the bunkhouse Hilda and I never would ’ve had no -ejucation at all.” - -Cheerio laughed. He could not help himself, though he quickly repressed -it, as he felt the girl beside him stiffening. - -“Well, old man, the stuff from the bunkhouse will do you more harm -than good. I wouldn’t touch it with a stick. Tell you what we’ll do. -When we’re through with the Musketeers, we’ll have a regular course of -reading.” - -“You said there were three sequels to the Musketeers.” - -“So there are, and we’ll read them too; but we want to vary our -reading. Now we’ll tackle a bit of Scott and then there’s some poetry I -want you to read and----” - -“Poetry! Slush-mush! Gee, we don’t want any poetry.” - -“Oh, yes, you do. Wait till you hear the kind of poetry I’m going to -read to you. Wait till we get into the ‘Idylls of the King.’” - -“Idols! You mean gods like the savages worship?” - -“No--but never mind. You’ll see when we get to them.” - -Hilda said, with some pride: - -“First time we go to Calgary, I’m going to buy some books for myself.” - -“Where you going to get the money from?” demanded Sandy. - -“I suppose Lady Bug won’t take the first prize at the Fall Horse -Show--Oh, no, of course not.” - -“Ye-eh, and he’ll make you put the prize money in the bank.” - -“He won’t.” - -“How won’t he?” - -“Because,” said Hilda, with dignity, “I happen to be eighteen years -old. That’s of age. He can’t. Of course, you----” - -Sandy groaned. Hilda had on more than one occasion rubbed in to him the -sore matter of his infernal youth and her own advantage of being of -age--the extraordinary powers that descended upon her in consequence of -those eighteen years. - -“I betchu,” said Sandy, “that Dad’ll whirl us through the town, in and -out for the Fair, and we won’t get anywhere near a book-store or the -libry, and we won’t get a hopping chance to do any shopping. And if we -do, he’ll go along to choose for us. Besides he’ll make you give him -a list of the things you buy, and you won’t dare to put books on that -list. He calls it systematic, scientific, mathmatical training of the -mind. Oh, my God--frey!” - -“I don’t care,” said Hilda bitterly. “I intend to buy what I choose -with my own money. I’m going to get that book ‘The Sheik.’ I saw it in -the movies, with Valentino, and it was just lovely. Dad was playing -chess at the Palliser and left me in the car, and I got out and went -to the movies, and I just loved it, and I’m going every time I get a -chance. You just watch me.” - -Something in the eager, hungry way in which the girl spoke touched -Cheerio and caused him suddenly to put his hand over the small one -resting on her lap. His touch had an electrical effect upon the girl. -She started to rise, catching her breath in almost a sob. She stood -hesitating, trembling, her hand still held in that warm, comforting -grasp. At that moment Cheerio would have given much to be alone with -the girl. A few moments only of this thrilling possession of the little -hand. Then it was wrenched passionately free. Hilda was regaining -possession of her senses. The dusk had fallen deeply about them and -he could not see her face, but he felt the quick, throbbing breath. A -moment only she stayed, and then there was only the blur of her fleeing -shadow in the night. Yet despite her going Cheerio felt strangely -warmed and most intensely happy. He was acquiring a better knowledge -and understanding of Hilda. Her odd moods, her chilling almost hostile -attitude and speech no longer distressed him. Perhaps this might -have been due to an amazing and most delicious explanation that her -red-haired brother had vouchsafed: - -“I guess my sister’s stuck on you,” had volunteered Sandy carelessly, -whittling away at a stick, and utterly unconscious of the effect of his -words on the alert Cheerio. “’Cause she swipes you to your face and -throws a fit if anyone says a word about you behind your back.” - -Little did that freckled-faced boy realize the amazing effects of his -words. No further information in fact might have come from him at this -juncture had not Cheerio flagrantly bribed him with “two bits.” - -“Go on Sandy----” - -“Go on with what?” - -“About what you were saying about your sister.” - -“Wa-al--” Sandy scratched his chin after the manner of his father, -as he tried to recall some specific instance to prove his sister’s -interest in the briber. “I said myself that you were a poor stiff -and she says: ‘You judge everyone by yourself, don’t you?’ And then -I heard her give Hello to Bully Bill, ’cause he said that Holy Smoke -was the best rider at O Bar O and Hilda says: ‘Why, Cheerio can ride -all around him and back again. He’s just a big piece of cheese.’ And -I heard Ho himself makin’ fun of you ’bout takin’ baths every day and -’bout your boiled Sunday shirts, and Hilda says to him: ‘’Twouldn’t be -a bad idea if you took a leaf or two out of his book yourself; only -you’ll need to stay in the river when you do get there, though it’ll -be hard on the river.’ And another time I heard her say to Bully Bill -when he was referrin’ to you as a vodeveel act, that time they put you -to breakin’ Spitfire, she says: ‘Wonder what you’d look like yourself -on his back? Wonder if you’d stay on. Spitfire’s pretty slippery, you -know, and you’re no featherweight,’ and Bully Bill says: ‘Hell, I ain’t -no tenderfoot,’ and she says: ‘’Course not. You’re a hard-boiled pig’s -foot,’ and before he could sass her back--if he dared and he don’t -dare, neither, she was off into the house and had banged the door on -him. You know Hilda. Gee!” - -Yes, he was beginning to know Hilda! - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Holy Smoke was strong as an ox and had the reputation of phenomenal -deeds done “across the line,” where to use his own boasts “they did -things brown.” It is true, he had come hastily out of that particular -part of the American union, with a posse at his heels. He had secured a -berth at O Bar O in a busy season, when help was scarce and work heavy. -His big physique stood him in good stead when it came to a matter -of endurance, though he was too heavy for swift riding, needed for -breaking horses or cutting out cattle. However, there was no man in the -country could beat him at lariat throwing and he was generally esteemed -a first-rate hand. His last name was actually “Smoke,” and his first -initial “H” it did not take the men long to dub him “Holy Smoke” though -he was more shortly called “Ho.” - -Other nicknames were secretly applied to him. Secretly because Ho had -achieved such a reputation as a fighter that few of the men cared to -risk his displeasure by calling him to his face “Windy Ho” or “Blab.” -His was the aggressive, loud-voiced overbearing type of personality -that by sheer noise often will win out in an argument and makes an -impression on those who are not expert students of character. Few at -O Bar O questioned the prowess of which Ho everlastingly boasted, for -he looked the part he played. His favourite boast was that he “could -lick any son-of-a-gun in Alberta, just as I licked every son-of-a-gun -in Montana” with one hand tied behind. No one accepted his challenge, -pugnaciously tossed forth, and little Buddy Wallace, one of P. D.’s -diminutive jockies, hurriedly retreated when the big fellow merely -stretched out a clinched fist toward him. - -Even Bully Bill, himself somewhat of a blusterer, discovered in Ho a -personality more domineering than his own. It was uncomfortable to -have the big bully around, but the foreman had never quite screwed up -the courage to “fire the man” as more than once P. D. had suggested. -Easy-going and good-natured Bully Bill had suffered Ho to remain all of -that summer, enduring meanwhile the fellow’s arrogance and boasts and -even threats of violence to each and every hand upon the place. He had -wormed his way to the position of temporary assistant foreman, as Bully -Bill had discovered that the men took orders from him as meekly as -from P. D. himself. This was up to the time that Cheerio drifted into -O Bar O. Soon after that memorable day, another even more important -in the annals of O Bar O dawned that not only elevated the Englishman -permanently from the woodpile and chores to the proud position of first -rider, but lost Ho his prestige in the cattle country. - -The row started in the cook-car. The first prod in his side had been -ignored by Cheerio, who had continued to eat his meal in silence, just -as if a vicious punch from the thick elbow of the man on his right -had not touched him. Holy Smoke winked broadly down the length of the -table. At the second prod, Cheerio looked the man squarely in the eye -and said politely: - -“I wouldn’t keep that up if I were you.” - -This brought a roar of laughter followed by the third prod. There was a -pause. He had raised in the interval his bowl of hot soup in his hands -and was greedily and noisily swallowing, when a surprising dig in his -own left rib not only produced a painful effect but sent the hot soup -spluttering all over him. Up rose the huge cowhand, while in the tense -silence that ensued all hands held their breath in thrilled suspense. -As Ho cleared his vision--temporarily dimmed by the hot soup, Cheerio, -who had also risen in his seat, said quietly: - -“I d-don’t want to hurt you, you know, b-but the fact is it’s got to be -done. S-suppose we go outside. T-too bad to m-make a m-m-mess of Chum -Lee’s car.” - -Holy Smoke snorted, hitched his trousers up by the belt, and then in -ominous silence he accompanied the Englishman, followed by every man in -the cook-car, including Chum Lee. - -A ring was made in short order and into the ring went the snorting, -loudly-laughing Ho and the lean, quiet young Englishman. - -“I hate this sort of a thing,” said Cheerio, “and if you feel equal to -an apology, old man, we’ll let it go at that.” - -Holy Smoke retorted with a low string of oaths and a filthy name that -brought Cheerio’s fist squarely up to his jaw. - -To describe that fight would require more craft and knowledge than the -author possesses. Suffice it to say that weight and size, the strength -of the powerful hands and limbs availed the cowhand nothing when pitted -against the scientific skill of one of the cleanest boxers in the -British army, who, moreover, had studied in the east that little-known -but remarkable art of wrestling known as jiujitsu. The big man found -himself whirling about in a circle, dashing blindly this way and that, -and through the very force of his own weight and strength overcoming -himself, and in the end to find himself literally going over the head -of the man who had ducked like lightning under him. There on the -ground sprawled the huge, beaten bully, who had tyrannized over the -men of O Bar O. His the fate to come to out of his daze only to hear -the frantic yells and cheers of the encircling men and to see his -antagonist borne back into the cook-car upon the shoulders of the men. - -Holy Smoke was a poor loser. His defeat, while it quenched in a -measure his outward show of bluster, left him nursing a grudge against -Cheerio, which he promised himself would some day be wiped out in a -less conspicuous manner and place. Not only had his beating caused him -to lose caste in the eyes of the men of the ranching country, but the -story went the rounds of the ranches, and the big cowhand suffered -the snubs and heartless taunts of several members of the other sex. -Now Ho was what is termed “a good looker,” and his conquests over the -fair sex generally had long been the subject of gossip and joke or -serious condemnation. He was, however, ambitious and aspired to make -an impression upon Hilda McPherson. For her this big handsome animal -had no attraction, and his killing glances, his oily compliments and -the flashy clothes that might have impressed a simpler-minded maid than -she, aroused only her amused scorn. Herself strong and independent by -nature, beneath her thorny exterior Hilda McPherson had the tender -heart of the mother-thing, and the brute type of man appealed less to -her than one of a slighter and more æsthetic type. - -Furthermore, Hilda loved little Jessie Three-Young-Mans, a squaw of -fifteen sad years, whose white-faced blue-veined papoose was kept alive -only by the heroic efforts of Hilda and the Agency doctor. The Morley -Indian Reserve adjoined the O Bar O ranch, and P. D. employed a great -many of the tribe for brush-cutting, fencing and riding at round-ups. -No matter how unimportant a job given to a “brave,” he moved upon the -place the following day with all of his relatives far and near, and -until the job was done, O Bar O would take on the aspect of an Indian -encampment. At such times Hilda, who knew personally most of the -Indians of the Stoney tribe, would ride over to the camp daily to call -upon the squaws, her saddle bags full of the sweet food the Indians -so loved. She was idolized by the Indian women. When riding gauntlets -and breeks were to be made for the daughter of P. D. only the softest -of hides were used and upon them the squaws lavished their choicest -of bead work. They were for “Miss Hildy, the Indian’s friend.” Of all -the squaws, Hilda loved best Jessie Three-Young-Mans; but Jessie had -recently fallen into deep trouble. Like her tiny papoose, the Indian -girl’s face had that faraway longing look of one destined to leave this -life ere long. She who had strayed from her own people clung the closer -to them now when she was so soon to leave them forever. Hilda alone of -the white people, the Indian girl crept forth from her tent to greet. -What she refused to tell even her parents, Jessie revealed to Hilda -McPherson and accordingly Hilda loathed Holy Smoke. - -However, Ho was assistant foreman at O Bar O and very often in full -charge of the ranch, for there were times when Bully Bill went to the -camps to oversee certain operations and in his absence Ho had charge of -the ranch and its stock. Also in P. D.’s absence, Hilda was accustomed -to take her father’s place so far as the men were concerned, and if -there were any questions that needed referring to the house they were -brought to her. Thus she was forced to come into contact with the -foreman as well as his assistant. - -Ho had what Hilda considered a “disgusting habit” of injecting personal -remarks into his conversation when he came to the house on matters -connected with the cattle, and no amount of snubbing or even sharp -reproof or insult feazed him. He was impervious to hurt and continued -his smirking efforts to ingratiate himself with P. D.’s daughter. He -always spruced himself up for those calls at the ranch-house, slicked -his hair smooth with oil and axle grease, put on his white fur chaps, -carried his huge Mexican sombrero with its Indian head band, and with -gay handkerchief at his neck, Ho set out to make a “hit” with his -employer’s daughter. - -At the time when Cheerio was reading from Dumas, P. D. was away in -Edmonton, and for a few days Bully Bill had gone down to Calgary, -accompanying his men with a load of steers for the local market. Ho, -therefore, in the absence of both of the bosses, was in charge of the -ranch, and one evening he presented himself at the house, ostensibly -to inquire regarding the disposition of certain yearlings that had -been shipped by Bully Bill from the Calgary stockyards. Were they to -be turned on the range with the other stuff? Should he keep them in -separate fields? How about rebranding the new stuff? Should he go ahead -or wait till the round-up of the O Bar O yearlings and brand all at one -time? - -“Dad’s in Edmonton,” replied Hilda. “You had better wait till he gets -back, though I don’t know just when that will be. He’s playing chess.” - -“Couldn’t you get him by phone or wire, Miss Hilda? Rather important to -know what to do with this new stuff, seein’ as how they’re pure-bred. -Maybe the boss’ll want them specially cared for.” - -“I could phone, of course, for I know where to get him, but it makes -him mad as a hornet to talk on the telephone, especially long distance, -and as for a wire, like as not, if Dad’s playing chess, he’d just chuck -it into his pocket and never bother to read it.” - -“Wa-al, I just thought I’d come along over and talk it out with you, -Miss Hilda. Your orders goes, you know, every time.” - -He helped himself to a seat, which the girl had not proffered him, and -stretched out his long legs as if for a prolonged visit. Hilda remained -standing, looking down at him coolly, then she quietly moved toward the -door, and opened it. - -“That’ll be all, then,” she said, and held the screen door open. - -The cowhand, with a black look at the back of the small, proud head, -arose and taking the hint he passed out. Hilda snapped the screen door -and hooked it. From outside, in a last effort to detain her, Ho said: - -“One minute, Miss Hilda. Did you say them doegies were to go into the -south pasture with our own stuff, then?” - -Hilda had not mentioned the south pasture. However she said now: - -“I suppose that will be all right, won’t it?” - -“Well, if they was mine I’d keep ’em in the corrals for a bit, and give -’em the once-over in case they’s any blackleg among em. They’s one or -two looks kind o’ suspicious.” - -“All right, then. Keep them in the corrals.” - -After all, the man knew his business, and she looked at him curiously -through the screen door. - -“Everything else on the place all right? Nothing loose? I thought I saw -some stuff in the bull pasture when I rode up from the Minnehaha ranch -to-day.” - -“Them doegies is all right, Miss Hilda. There ain’t nothin’ out ’cept -what’s meant to be out. You leave it to me. Nothin’s goin’ to git out -of hick with the boss away, you can take it from me.” - -“I didn’t mean to question that,” she said quickly. - -Her father’s sense of squareness in treatment of his men was shared by -her, and she added with a slightly more friendly tone: - -“You know an awful lot about cattle, don’t you, Ho?” - -To give Ho “an inch” was to yield the proverbial mile. Instantly he was -grinning back at her, his chest swelling with conceit and self-esteem, -as he pressed against the screen door, his bold eyes seeking hers. - -“I know ’bout everything they is to know ’bout cattle--the two-legged -as well as the four.” - -“Is that so?” - -“You see, Miss Hilda, they ain’t much difference between ’em, whichever -way you look at ’em. Some folks are scrub stock and go up blind before -the branding iron; others is like yourself, Miss Hilda, with high -spirits and you got to get ’em broke in the Squeezegate before you -can use ’em. Pretty hard to slip a lariat over that kind, but they’s -a saying among cowhands that ‘every outlaw has his day,’ and I’m -thinking”--his bold eyes leered into her own with significance, “the -rope’ll git you too.” - -“You think so, do you? Well, who do you think is smart enough to get -the rope over my head, I’d like to know?” - -He leered and chuckled. The conversation was to his liking. - -“Can’t say, but the woods is full of them as is achin’ for the chance. -Some day when you’re loose on the range maybe you’ll slip under.” - -Hilda’s scorn had turned to anger. Holy Smoke’s body was against the -screen door, bulging the wirework in. His cunning gaze never left her -face. He had lowered his voice meaningly. - -“How about that English fly, Miss? He’s getting fair handy with the -lariat, they do say.” - -Hilda had flushed scarlet and drawn back with blazing eyes, but the -words of the cowhand on the outer side of the door stopped her in her -premeditated flight and sent a cold shiver all over her. - -“Ye needn’t to worry ’bout him, Miss Hilda. He ain’t likely to swing -his lariat in your direction. It’s hooked already over another one.” - -Hilda’s dry lips, against her will, moved in burning query: - -“Who do you mean?” - -She scarcely knew her own voice. Something wild and primitive was -surging through her being. She wanted to cry out, to hurl something -into the face of the grinning man at the door, yet fascinated, -tormented, she stayed for an answer: - -“Her that’s under his pillow. Her that he takes along of him wherever -he goes and has locked up in one of them gold gimcracks as if her face -was radio. It’d make you laugh to see him take it to bed with him, and -tuck it just as if it was heaven under his pillow and----” - -Hilda stared blankly at the man on the other side of the door. She -uttered not a word. Her hand shot out, as if she were dealing a blow to -him, and the inside door banged hard. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -There were eighteen hundred head of calves to be vaccinated, branded, -dehorned and weaned. Over the widespreading hills and meadows the -cattle poured in a long unbroken stream, bellowing and calling as -they moved. The round-up included the mothers, eighteen hundred head -of white-faced Herefords. These, sensing danger to their young, came -unwillingly, moaning and stopping stolidly to bawl their unceasing -protests or to call peremptorily to their straying offspring. Sometimes -a mother would make a break for freedom and a rider would have his -hands full driving her out of the dense brush where the fugitive might -find a temporary asylum. - -At the corrals they were driving long posts four feet deep into the -earth. Close by the posts a soft coal fire spat and blazed. “Doc” -Murray, veterinary surgeon, on an upturned wooden box, sleeves rolled -to elbow and pipe in the corner of his mouth, squatted, directing the -preparations. Everything was done ship-shape at O Bar O. - -For some time, oblivious to the taunts and jeers cast at him, Cheerio, -returned from the round-up, had been standing by his horse’s head -gazing up the hill in a brown study of rapture. The sight of that -army sweeping in from all directions over the hills and from the -woods, to meet in the lower pastures and automatically form in to that -symmetrical file, fascinated him beyond words. Even the riders, loosely -seated on their horses, their bright handkerchiefs blowing free in the -breeze, whirling lariat and long cattle whips, flanking and following -the herd, seemed pleasing to the eye of the Englishman. - -Though the day of the chap-clad, large-hatted type of cowboy is said to -have passed in the Western States, in Alberta he is still a thriving, -living reality. In this “last of the big lands,” where the cattle still -range over hundreds of thousands of acres, their guardians appear to -have somewhat of that romantic element about them which has made -the cowboy famous in story and in song. He wears the fur and leather -chaps, the buckskin shirts and coats, the Indian beaded gauntlets and -the wide felt hats not wholly because they are good to look at, but -because of their sterling qualities for utilitarian purposes. The -chaps are indispensable for the trail, the fur ones for warmth and -general protection and the leather ones for the brush. The great hats, -which the Indians also use in Alberta, serve the double purposes of -protection from a too-ardent sun and as great drinking vessels during a -long ride. The hide shirts are both wind and sun proof and the beadwork -sewn on with gut thread serve as excellent places for the scratching -of matches. Cheerio himself had by now a full cowboy outfit, chaps, -hide shirt, wide hat, flowing tie, but he never tired of looking -appreciatively at the other fellows in similar garb. Now, with eyes -slightly screwed to get the right angle upon them, he planned a canvas -that was some day to hang in a place of great honour. - -The morning’s work had been exhilarating. To him had been assigned -some of the most difficult riding tasks of the round-up. He had been -dispatched into the bush on the east side of the Ghost River to gather -in forty-seven strays that had taken refuge in the bog lands and had -drawn with them their young into this insecure and dubious protection -from the riders. - -Cheerio had ridden through woods so dense that his horse could barely -squeeze between the bushes and the trees. He had been obliged to draw -his feet out of the stirrups and ride cross-legged in his saddle. -Sometimes he was forced to dismount and lead his horse over trails -so narrow that the animal had balked and hesitated to pass until -led. Rattling a tin bell made of an empty tomato can with a couple -of rocks in it, Cheerio wended his way through the deep woods. This -loudly-clanking contraption served to rouse and frighten the hidden -cattle out into the open, but several of them retreated and plunged -farther into the bush that bordered hidden pools of succulent mud and -quicksand. - -The branches of the thick trees had snapped against his face as he rode -and his chin and cheeks were scratched where the wide hat had failed -to afford sufficient protection. The sleeves of his rough riding shirt -were literally torn to shreds and even the bright magenta chaps that -were his especial pride and care came out of that brush ragged, soiled -and full of dead leaves, brush and mud. - -He had been delayed at a slough whose surface of dark green growth gave -no intimation of the muddy quicksands beneath. Stuck hard in the mud of -this pool a terrified heifer was slowly sinking, while her bawling calf -was restrained from following its mother only through the quick action -of Cheerio, who drove the distracted little creature a considerable -distance into the woods ere he returned to its mother. - -It is one thing to throw the lariat in an open space and to land it -upon the horns or the back feet of a fleeing animal. It is another -thing to swing a lariat in a thickly-wooded bush where the noose is -more likely than not to land securely in the branch or the crotch of a -tree, resisting all tugs and jerks to leave its secure hold. Cheerio, -inexpert with the lariat, gave up all thought of rescuing the animal -in that way. Instead, his quick wits worked to devise a more ingenious -method of pulling the heifer from the slough, where she would have -perished without help. - -Along the edges of the woods were fallen willow trees and bushes that -the Indians had cleaved for future fence posts. Cheerio hauled a -quantity of these over to the slough, and shoving and piling them in -criss-cross sections, he made a sort of ford to within about fifteen -feet of the mired cow. His horse was tied by its halter rope to a tree. -With one end of the lariat firmly attached to the pommel of his saddle -which had been cinched on to the animal very tightly and the other -end about his own waist, Cheerio crossed this ford toward the animal. -He now let out the lariat and coiled its end for the toss. It landed -easily upon the horns of the animal. Holding to the rope, now drawn -taut, Cheerio made his way back over the ford. Unfastening his horse, -he mounted. Now began the hard part of the work. His horse rode out a -few feet and the sudden pull upon the horns of the cow brought her to -her feet. She stumbled and swayed but the rope held her up. A pause for -rest for horse and heifer, and then another and harder and longer pull -and tug. The cow, half-strangled in the mud, nevertheless was drawn -along by the stout lariat rope. She slid along the slippery floor of -the slough and not till her feet touched sod was she able to give even -a feeble aid to the now heavily-panting mare. - -Once on solid ground, Cheerio burst into a cheer such as an -excited boy might have given, and he called soothingly to the -desperately-frightened heifer. - -“You’re doing fine, old girl! There you go! Ripping!” And to the mare: - -“Good for you, Sally-Ann! You’re a top-notcher, old girl!” - -There was an interval to give the exhausted animals an opportunity for -a rest and then they were on the bush trail again, the heifer going -slowly ahead, thoroughly tamed and dejected, yet raising her head with -monotonous regularity to call and moan her long loud cry for her young. - -As Cheerio came out into the open range certain words recurred to his -mind and he repeated them aloud with elation and pride: - -“They’s the makings of a damn fine cowboy in you,” had said the foreman -of O Bar O. - -He was whooping and hurrahing internally for himself and he felt as -proud of his achievement as if he had won a hard pitched battle. -In fact, if one reckoned success in the terms of dollars and of -cents, then Cheerio had saved for O Bar O the considerable sum of -$1500, which was the value of the pure-bred heifer rescued from the -slough. Moreover, Cheerio had brought from the bush the full quota of -missing cows and their offspring. When at last he joined up with that -steadily-growing line pouring down from all parts of the woods and the -ranges, to join in the lower meadows, he was whistling and jubilantly -keeping time to his music with the clanking “bell,” and when he came -within sight of his “mates” he waved his hat above his head, and rode -gleefully down among them, shouting and boasting of his day’s work. He -counted his cows with triumph before the doubting “Thomases” who had -predicted that the tenderfoot would come out of that dense wood with -half a heifer’s horn and a calf’s foot. - -They rode westward under a sky bright blue, while facing them, -wrapped about in a haze of soft mauve, the snow-crowned peaks of the -Rocky Mountains towered before them like a dream. The glow of a late -summer day was tinting all of the horizon and rested in slumberous -splendour upon the widespreading bosom of pastures and meadows and -fair undulating sloping hills. Almost in silence, as if unconsciously -subdued by the beauty of the day, came the O Bar O outfit, riding -ahead, behind, and flanking the two sides of that marvellous army of -cattle. - -Small wonder that the Englishman’s heart beat high and that his blood -seemed to race in his veins with an electrical fervour that comes from -sheer joy and satisfaction with life. If anyone had asked him whether -he regretted the life he had deliberately sacrificed for this wild -“adventure” in Western Canada, he would have shouted with all the -vehemence and it may be some of the typical profanity of O Bar O: - -“Not by a blistering pipeful! This is the life! It’s r-ripping! -It’s--Jake!” - -But now they were at the corrals. Finished the exhilarating riding of -the range, done the pretty work of cutting out the cattle and drawing -the herd into that line while one by one they were passed through the -gates that opened into especial pastures assigned for the mothers, -while the calves that were to be operated upon were “cut out” and -driven into the corrals. - -Slowly Cheerio tore his gaze from the fascinating spectacle of that -moving stream of cattle and turned towards the corral. He saw, first -of all, a giant structure, a platform on which was a gallowslike -contrivance. Already a bawling calf had been driven up the incline -and its head had been gripped by the closing gates around its neck. -The Squeezegate! The dehorning shears were being sharpened over the -grindstone and the whirring of the wheel, the grating of the steel -hissed into the moaning cries of the trapped calves in the corrals. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -Holy Smoke rode in ahead with orders from Bully Bill for all hands -finished riding to fall to and help at the branding and the dehorning. -To each man was assigned some especial post or task, and Ho was in his -element as he shouted his orders to the men, “showing off” in great -form. His left eye had flattened in a broad wink to the veterinary -surgeon, as he paused by Cheerio, turned now from the Squeezegate and -trying to recapture the enthusiasm that had animated him before he had -noted that platform. - -“Hey you there! Bull ses yer to give a hand to the Doc, and there ain’t -no time neither for mannicarring your nails before fallin’ to. This -ain’t no weddin’ march, take it from me. We ain’t had no round-up for -fun. We’re here to brand and dehorn, d’ you get me?” - -“Righto!” - -Cheerio drew up sprightly before Dr. Murray and saluted that -grimy, nicotine-stained “vet.” The latter glimpsed him over in one -unflattering and comprehensive sweep of a pair of keen black eyes. -Then, through the corner of his mouth, he hailed young Sandy, right on -the job at the fire. - -“Hey, kid, give a poke, will yer? Keep that fire agoing.” - -This was a job upon which Sandy doted. From his baby years, fire had -been both his joy and his bane, for despite many threats and whippings, -the burning down of a costly barn brought a drastic punishment that was -to stick hotly in the memory of even a boy who loved fire as dearly as -did Sandy. It caused him forevermore to regard matches with respect -and an element of fear. P. D. had deliberately burned the tips of his -son’s fingers. Though Sandy feared the fire, he still loved it. With -both care and craft, therefore, he poked the fire, and pounded the huge -pieces of coal till they spluttered and burst into flames. The heat -grew intense. - -The cattle were now pouring into the corrals and the riders by the -gates were cutting out such of the mothers as had gotten through, -besides certain weaklings of the herd that were to be spared the -branding. These, temporarily driven to adjoining corrals, set up -the most deafening outcries and calls for their young, while in the -calf corrals these sturdy young creatures voiced their indignant and -anguished protests. - -Darting in and out of the clamouring herd, the experienced “hands” -bunched and separated them according to the bellowing orders of Holy -Smoke. - -The scorching crunch of the closing Squeezegate and the first long -bawl of agony swept the pink from the cheeks of the Englishman. He was -seized with a sudden, overwhelming impulse to flee from this Place of -Horrors, but as he turned instinctively toward the gate, he saw Hilda -standing upon it. She had climbed to the third rung and, hands holding -lightly to the top rail, she watched the operations with professional -curiosity. For a moment, Cheerio suffered a pang of revolting -repugnance. That one so young and so lovely should be thus callous to -suffering seemed to him an inexcusable blemish. - -It may be that Hilda sensed something of his judgment of her, for there -was a pronounced lifting of that dangerous young chin and the free -toss of the head so characteristic of her wild nature, while her dark -eyes shone defiantly. Almost unconsciously, he found himself excusing -her. She had been born to this life. Since her baby years she had been -freely among cattle and horses and men. Daughter of a cattleman, Hilda -knew that the most painful of the operations, namely, the dehorning, -was, in a measure, a merciful thing for the cattle, who might otherwise -gore each other to death. The vaccination was but a pin prick, an -assurance against the deadly blackleg. As for the branding, it was -not nearly as painful as was generally supposed, and first aid was -immediately administered to relieve the pang of the burning. It was the -only means the cattlemen had for the identification of their property. -She resented, therefore, the horror and reproach which she sensed in -the stern gaze of the Englishman. Her cool, level glance swept his -white, accusing face. - -“Pretty sight, isn’t it?” she taunted. “If there’s one thing I love,” -she went on, defiantly, “it is to see a brand slapped on true!” - -With a nonchalant wisp of a smile, her tossing head indicated the -stake, to which a three-month-old calf was bound, its head upturned as -the red-hot branding iron smote with a firm, quick shot upon its left -side. - -The odour of burnt hide nauseated Cheerio. He felt the blood deserting -his face and lips. His knees and hands had a curiously numb sensation. -He was dizzy and almost blind. He found himself holding to the gate -rail, the critical, judging glance of the girl fixed in question upon -his face. - -Like one hypnotized, he forced his gaze toward the branded calf and he -saw something then that brought his trembling hand out in a gesture -of almost entreaty and pain. A long, red spurt of blood was trickling -down the animal’s side. The old terror of blood swept over him in a -surge--a terror that had bitten into his soul upon the field of battle. -It was something constitutional, pathological, utterly beyond his -control. - -Cheerio no longer saw the girl beside him, nor felt the stab of her -scornful smile. He had the impulse to cry out to her, to explain that -which had been incomprehensible to his comrades in France. - -Hilda’s voice seemed to come from very far away and the tumult that -made up the bawling voices of Holy Smoke and the raging hands of the -O Bar O was utterly unintelligible to him; nor could he comprehend -that the shouts were directed at him. In a way, the shouting brought -him stark back to another scene, when, in wrath, men seemed to rush -over him and all in a black moment the world had spun around him in -a nightmare that was all made up of blood--filthy, terrifying, human -blood. - -Ho’s bawling message was transmitted from bawling mouth to bawling -mouth. - -“Take the rope at the south stake, and take it damn quick. Are yer -goin’ to let the bloody calf wait all the damn day for his brandin’?” - -Above the tumult cut the girl’s quiet, incisive words: - -“Get on your job! You’re wanted at the south stake.” - -“My job? Oh, by Jove, what was it I was to do?” - -His hand went vaguely across his eyes. He staggered a few paces across -the corral. - -“Hold the rope!” squealed Sandy, jumping up and down by the stake. “I -gotter keep the fire goin’, and the other fellers has their hands full -at the Squeezegate.” - -“Hold the bally rope! Oh, yes. Wh-wh-where is the bally thing?” - -“Here! Catch him! That’s Jake! There you go, round and round. Keep -agoin’. Hold taut there! Don’t let go whatever you do. That calf’s -awful strong. If you don’t look out she’ll get away!” - -Sandy’s young wrists had been barely strong enough to hold the rope -that bound the wretched calf to the stake. Pink Eye, wielding with -skill a long lariat that never failed to land upon the horns of the -desired calf and bring it to the stake, urged all hands along with -profane and impure language. Automatically and with perfect precision, -Hootmon was clapping the brand upon one calf after another and passing -them along to the “Vet,” who in turn thrust the syringe into the thigh, -the prick of the vaccination being dulled in comparison with the -fiercer pang of the branding iron. Now the rope had passed from Sandy -to Cheerio and there was a pause. - -“Get a wiggle on you! Hold tight! Round this way! For the love of Saint -Peter!” - -At the other end of the rope that Sandy had thrust into his hands, a -three-month-old calf pulled and fought for freedom. From its head, -where the dehorning shears had already performed their work a dark -sickening stream dripped. Sandy had twisted the rope partly around the -post but it still remained unknotted. - -Someone was calling something across the corral. Cheerio found himself -going around and around the post. Suddenly a wild bawl of anguish from -the tortured animal sent him staggering back and at the same moment the -calf seemed to plunge against him and the hot blood spurted against his -face. - -At that moment he clearly heard again the crisp whipping words of his -captain, scorching his soul with its bitter ring of hatred and scorn. -The rope slipped from his hand. He threw up his arm blindly, shrinking -back. His breath caught in the old craven sob. Down into deep depths of -space he sank, sickened. - -Hilda McPherson had leaped down from the rail and with an inarticulate -cry, she gathered Cheerio’s head into her arms. It was the coarse -sneering voice of Holy Smoke that recalled her and forced her to see -that shining thing that was pinned to the breast of the unconscious man. - -“Wearin’ her over his heart, huh!” chuckled Ho, one thick, dirty finger -upon the locket, while his knowing glance pinned the stricken one of -the girl. With a sob, Hilda drew back, and came slowly to her feet, her -eyes still looking down at the unconscious face with an element of both -terror and anguish. - -He returned with a cry--a startling cry of blended agony and fear, for -the odour of blood was still in his nostrils and all about him was the -tumult of the battlefield; but all that Hilda noted was that his first -motion was that grasp at his breast. His hand closed above the locket. -He sat up unsteadily, dazedly. He even made an effort now to smile. - -“That’s f-funny. Carn’t stand the blood. M-makes me f-funky. -C-c-constitutional--” His words dribbled off. - -Hilda said nothing. She continued to stare down at him, but her face -had hardened. - -“What t’ ’ell’s the matter?” snarled Ho. “Ain’t yer fit to stand the -gaff of a bit of brandin’ even?” - -The girl’s averted face gave him no encouragement, and Cheerio went on -deliriously, slipping deeper and deeper into the mire of disgrace. - -“C-carn’t stand the b-b-blood. M-makes me sick. Constitutional. -Affected me like that in France. I w-w-went f-funky when they needed me -m-most--dr-opped out, you know--r-r-r-ran away and----” - -Ho, hand cupped at the back of his ear, was drinking in every word -of the broken confession, while his delighted eyes exchanged glances -with the girl. Her chin had gone to a high level. Without looking at -Cheerio, she said: - -“Say no more. We have your number.” - -“Better get to the bunkhouse,” said Ho. “This ain’t no place for a -minister’s son.” - -Cheerio managed somehow to come to his feet. He still felt fearfully -weak and the persisting odour of blood and burnt hide made him sick -beyond endurance. Limping to the gate, he paused a moment to say to the -girl, with a pathetic attempt at lightness of speech: - -“’Fraid I’m not cut out for cowboy life. I’d j-jolly well like to learn -the g-game. I d-don’t seem exactly to fit.” - -She was leaning against the corral gate. Her face was turned away, -and the averted cheek was scarlet. He felt the blaze of her scornful -eyes and suffered an exquisite pang of longing to see them again as -sometimes, after the readings in the evening, humid and wide, they had -looked back at him in the twilight. - -“No, you don’t fit,” she said slowly. “It takes a man with guts to -stand our life--a dead game sport, and not--not----” - -She left the sentence unfinished, leaving the epithet to his -imagination. She turned her back upon him. He limped to the house. For -a long time he sat on the steps, his head in his hands. - - * * * * * - -Slowly there grew into his consciousness another scene. He had come -to suddenly out of just such a moment of unconsciousness as that he -had suffered at the corral. Then there had flooded over him such -an overpowering consciousness of what had befallen him that he had -staggered, with a shout, to his feet. At the psychological moment, -when his company had started forward, he had welched, stumbled back, -and, with the anguished oaths of the captain he loved ringing in his -ears, Cheerio had gone down into darkness. He had come to as one in a -resurrection, born anew, and invigorated with a passionate resolve to -compensate with his life for that error, that moment of weakness. - -There was an objective to be taken at any cost. The men had gone on. He -found himself crawling across No Man’s Land. But a hundred feet away he -came to his company. Upon the ground they lay, like a bunch of sheep -without a leader. There was not an officer left, save that one who had -been his friend and who had cursed him for a renegade when he turned -back. Fearfully wounded, his captain was slowly pulling his way along -the ground, painfully worming toward that clump of wood from which the -sporadic bursts of gun fire were coming. Cheerio understood. Someone -had to put that machine-gun out of commission or they would all be -annihilated. He was crawling side by side with his captain, begging -him to turn back and to trust him to take his place. He was pleading, -arguing, threatening and forcing the wounded man down into a shell-hole -where he could not move. Now he was on his own job. - -Alone, within forty or fifty yards of the machine-gun, he paused, -to take stock of what he had in the way of ammunition with him. He -found he had a single smoke bomb and resolved to use it. Getting into -a shell-hole, he unslung his rifle and placed the bomb into it and -prepared it for firing. He waited for the right wind to shift the smoke -and then carefully fired the gun. - -By some remarkable stroke of fortune, it fell and exploded in such a -position that the wind carried the smoke in a heavy cloud immediately -over the German machine-gun post, rendering the operators of the -machine absolutely powerless. At that moment Cheerio leaped from the -shell-hole, and rushing forward, pulled a pin from a Mills bomb, as he -ran. When about twenty yards away, he threw the bomb into the smoke and -fell to the ground to await the explosion. It came with a terrific -crash, fragments of the bomb bursting overhead. Jumping up and grasping -his rifle firmly, he plunged into the smoke which had not yet cleared. -Suddenly he fell into a trench, and he could not restrain a cheer to -find that the machine-gun was lying on its side. It was out of action. - -There was no time to survey the situation, for two of the enemy had -rushed toward him swinging their “potato mashers” as the British -soldiers were wont to call this type of bomb. Now that he realized that -he had accomplished his objective, his elation had turned to the old -sickening feeling of terror, as he watched one of the Germans pull the -little white knob and throw the grenade. It missed him and struck the -parapet of the trench. About to rush him, the Germans were restrained -by an officer who had come up unobserved until then. He would take the -Englishman prisoner. There were questions he desired to put to him. -Yelling: “Komm mit!” they pushed him to his feet, and with prods of -the bayonet, Cheerio went before the Germans. - - * * * * * - -His hands swept his face as if by their motion he put away that -scene that had come back so clearly to memory. No! Not even the girl -he loved--for in his misery, Cheerio faced the fact that he loved -Hilda--not even she could truthfully name him--coward! - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Hard as it is to build up a reputation in a cattle country, which has -its own standards of criticism as everywhere else in the world, it is -not difficult to lose that reputation. From tongue to tongue rolled -the story of Cheerio’s weakness and confession at the branding corral, -and that story grew like a rolling snowball in the telling, so that -presently it would appear that he had confessed not merely to the most -arrant cowardice at the front, but gross treachery to his country and -his king. - -Every man at O Bar O was a war veteran. Few of them, it is true, had -seen actual service at the front. Nevertheless, they had acquired the -point of view of the man in the army who is quick to suspect and judge -one he thinks has “funked.” The most jealous and hard in their judgment -were they who were licked in by the long arm of conscription and who -had “served” at the Canadian and English camps. - -When Cheerio, clean and refreshed by a dip in the Ghost River, came in -late to the cook-car and cast a friendly glance about him, not even -Hootmon or Pink-Eyed Jake looked up from their “feeding.” An ominous -silence greeted him, and the tongues that were buzzing so loudly prior -to his entrance were stuck into cheeks, while meaning glances and winks -went along the benches, as his grey eyes swept the circle of faces. - -“Cheerio! Fellows!” said Cheerio gently, and fell to upon his dinner. - -Chum Lee slapped down the soup none too gently into his bowl and as he -did so, the Chinaman said: - -“Sloup velly good for men got cold fleet! Eat him quick!” - -Bully Bill, his ear inclined to the moving mouth of Holy Smoke, arose -solemnly in his place at the head of the long table, slouched down the -line of men, came to where Cheerio was beginning on that hot soup that -was good for “cold fleet,” and: - -“Hi you!” he growled, “pack down your grub P. D. Q. Then git to hello -to the bunkhouse. Git your traps together. Report at the house for -your pay. You’re fired!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -At the ranch house, P. D. McPherson alternately paced the living-room, -the hall, the dining-room, the kitchen and the back and front verandahs. - -Fourteen times he called for his daughter and twice fourteen times he -had roared for his son. - -The morning’s mail (brought on horseback seven miles from Morley -post-office by an Indian) contained a letter that P. D. had been -waiting for all of that summer. It was brief and to the point almost -of curtness. It consisted of one line scrawl of a certain famous chess -player in the City of Chicago and was to the effect that the writer -would be pleased to accept the challenge of the Canadian player for -November 30th of the current year. - -If P. D. had drunk deeply and long of some inebriating cup he could not -have felt any more exhilarated than after reading that epistle. - -On November thirtieth--scarce two months off--he, P. D. McPherson, -chess champion of Western Canada, was to go to the City of Chicago, in -the State of Illinois, there to sit opposite the greatest chess player -in the United States of America and at that time demonstrate to a -skeptical world that Canada existed upon the map. - -He’d show ’em, by Gad! Yanks! (The average Canadian refers to the -average American as “Yank” or “Yankee” regardless of the part of the -States of which he may be a resident. P. D. knew better than to refer -to a Chicagoan as a Yank, but had acquired the habit, and in his heart -he was not fussy over designations.) - -Yanks! Hmph! P. D. snorted and laughed, and G.D.’ed the race heartily -and without stint. Not that he had any special animus against -Americans. That was just P. D.’s way of expressing himself. Besides -he was still smarting over having been ignored and snubbed for long -by those top-lofty, self-satisfied, condescending lords of the chess -board. For two years P. D. had banged at the chess door and only now -had he at last been reluctantly recognised. He’d show ’em a thing or -two in chess. - -Yanks as chess players! It was to laugh! P. D. had followed every -printed game that had been published in the chess departments of -the newspapers and periodicals. His fingers had fairly itched many -a time when a game was in progress to indite fiery instructions to -the d-d-d-d-d-d-d-fool players, who were alternately attacking and -retreating at times when a trick could be turned that would end -hostilities at a single move. P. D. knew the trick. It was all his own. -He had invented it; at least, he thought he had invented it, and had -been angry and uneasy at a suggestion put out by a recent player that -it was a typically German move. - -Two months! Two months in which to practice up and study for the mighty -contest, which might mean that the winner would be the chosen one in -an international tournament that would include all the nations of the -world. Ah ha! He’d waste not a precious moment. He’d begin at once! At -once! - -“Hilda! Hilda! Hilda! Where’s that girl? Hilda! Hi, you there, -G-- D-- you Chum Lee, where’s Miss Hilda?” - -“Me no know, bossie. Chum Lee no sabe where Miss Hilda go on afternoon.” - -“Didn’t you see her go by?” - -“No, bossie, me no see Miss Hilda. Mebbe she like go see him blandie” -(brand). - -“Beat it over to the corral and tell her I want her--at once--at once!” - -“Hilda! Hil-l-lda!” - -He made a trumpet of his hands and roared his daughter’s name through -it. - -“Hil-lda! Where in the name of the almighty maker of mankind is that -girl! Hilda!” - -Yanks indeed! Dog damn their souls! Their smug satisfaction with -themselves; their genius for bragging and boasting; their ignorance -concerning any other part of the earth save the sod on which their own -land stood--their colossal self-esteem and intolerance--all this was -evidence of an amazing racial provincialism that P. D. proposed to -expose and damn forevermore. - -“Hilda! Damn it all, where are you?” - -“Hilda! You hear me very well, miss!” - -Tramp, tramp, tramp. Round and round the house, inside and out, hands -twitching behind, holding still to that precious letter. - -“Sandy! Sandy! Sa-nn-n-ndy! Where’s that boy gone?” - -Tramp, tramp again and: - -“Sandy! You come here, you red-haired young whipper-snapper--You hear -me very well. Sandy! Sandy! San-n-dy!” - -No reply. It was evident that the house was empty and his son and -daughter nowhere within hearing unless in hiding. Chum Lee scurried -past back from the corrals, and apparently unconscious of the amazed -and furious string of blistering epithets and cusses that pursued him -from his “bossie.” - -From the direction of the corrals a din surged, the moaning, groaning -calves and the mothers penned in the neighbouring field. These cries -were not music to the ears of the formerly proud owner of the cattle. -It mattered not this day to P. D. whether a brand was slapped on true -or banged on upside down; whether it were blurred or distinct. It -mattered not whether the dehorning shears had snipped to one inch of -the animal’s head as prescribed by law, or had clipped down into the -skull itself. He paid a foreman crackajack wages to look after his -cattle. If he could not do the work properly, there were other foremen -to be had in Alberta. P. D. had no desire whatsoever to go to the -corrals and witness the operations. His place at the present time was -the house, where one could occupy their minds with the scientific game -of chess. - -“Sandy! Sandy!” - -Back into the house went the irate P. D. The chess table was jerked -out and the chess board set up. P. D. propped up a book containing -illustrations of certain famous chess games, before him, and set his -men in place. - -P. D. began the game with a dummy partner, making his own move first -and with precise care his partner’s. Fifteen minutes of chess solitaire -and then out again, and another and louder calling for his son and his -daughter. - -No doubt they were at the corrals, dog blast their young fool souls. -What was the matter with that bleak nit-wit of a foreman? He was hired -to run a ranch, and given more men for the job than that allotted by -any other ranch for a similar work. What in blue hades did he mean -by drawing upon the house for labor? The son and daughter of P. D. -McPherson were not common ranch hands that every time a bit of branding -or rounding-up was done they should be pulled out to assist with the -blanketty, blistering, hell-fire work. - -Raging up and down, up and down, through the wide verandah and back -through the halls and into the living-room again and again at the -unsatisfactory chess solitaire, the furious old rancher was in a black -mood when voices outside the verandah caused him to jerk his chin -forward at attention. The missing miscreants had returned! - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -“San-ndy!” - -The three on the verandah jumped. That crisp summons, that peculiar -inflection meant but one thing. Chess! Sandy cast a swift agonized -glance about him, seeking an immediate mode of escape. He was slipping -cat-footed and doubled over along the back of the swinging couch on the -verandah, when again came the imperative summons, this time with even -more deadly significance. - -“Sandy! In here, sir!” - -“Yessir, I’m comin’, sir.” - -Now it happened that the foreman of O Bar O had come especially over -to the ranch house, accompanied by the son and daughter of P. D. to -announce to his employer the discharge of Cheerio. It was an ironclad -rule of O Bar O that no “hand” upon the place should be dismissed -without his case first being examined before the final court of -judgment in the person of P. D. This was merely a formality, for P. -D. was accustomed to O. K. the acts of his foreman. Nevertheless, it -was one of the customs that could not be ignored. What is more, a man -reported for his final pay to the supreme boss of the ranch. - -It was also the law at O Bar O that such discharges and reports should -be made after the working hours in the field. In the present instance, -Bully Bill had harkened to the advice of his assistant and discharged -Cheerio at the noon hour. O Bar O, he contended, could not afford to -risk its prestige by having in its employ for even a few more hours -a man who had acted at the corrals as had the Englishman. Therefore, -having put his men back to work at the corrals, Bully Bill had come to -the house to report to his employer. - -That Sandy summons was unmistakable. The noble and ancient game was -about to be played. It was well-known lese majeste to interrupt when -the game was in progress. Bully Bill and the young McPhersons looked at -each other in consternation and dismay. - -Sandy, in his ragged and soiled overalls, one of the “galluses” missing -and the other hitched in place with a safety pin, groaned aloud, then -shuffled unwillingly into the house. Rebellion bristled and stuck -out of every inch of the reluctant and disgusted boy. At that moment -Sandy loathed chess above everything else on earth. It was a damfool -game that no other boy in the country was forced to play. Sandy could -not see why he should be singled out as a special victim. Sullenly he -seated himself before the hated board. Blindly he lifted and moved a -black pawn forward two paces. His father’s eyes snapped through his -glasses. - -“Since when did it become the custom for the Black to move before the -White?” he demanded fiercely. - -Sandy coughed and replaced the pawn. His father took the first move -with his white pawn. - -Now when Sandy McPherson entered thus unwillingly into the ranch house -he passed not alone into the place. Close upon his heels, silently -and unseen by the absorbed master of the house, followed the yellow -dog, Viper. He slunk in fact along behind chairs and tables, for well -Viper knew he was on forbidden and hostile territory. Reaching the -great, overstuffed sofa that stood in soft luxury before the big stone -fireplace, Viper leaped soundlessly aboard, and a moment later was -snuggled well down among the numerous sofa pillows and cushions that -were the creations of Hilda’s feminine hands. - -P. D. McPherson had his scientific opinion touching upon the subject of -dogs. To a limited extent, he had experimented upon the canine race, -but he had not given the subject the thought or the work bestowed on -his other subjects, as he considered animals of this sort were placed -on earth more for the purpose of ornament and companionship rather -than for utilization by the human race, as in the case of horses, -cattle, pigs, etc. O Bar O possessed some excellent examples of P. -D.’s experiments. He had produced some quite remarkable cattle dogs, a -cross between collie and coyote in looks and trained so that they were -almost as efficient in the work of cutting out and rounding-up cattle -as the cowboys. These dogs had been duly exhibited at the Calgary Fair -but the judgment upon them had so aroused the wrath of the indignant -P. D. that after a speech that became almost a classic in its way, -because of the variety and quality of its extraordinary words, P. D. -departed from the fair ground with his “thoroughbred mongrels” as the -“blank, blank, blank fool judges” had joshingly named them. P. D. was -not finished with his dog experiments “by a damn sight.” However, his -subjects at this time were held in excellent quarters pending the time -when P. D. would renew work upon them. Occasionally, said dogs were -brought forth for the inspection of their creator, but even they, good -products and even servants of O Bar O, knew better than to intrude into -his private residences. - -Of Viper’s existence at the present stage in his career, P. D. was -totally ignorant. He supposed, in fact, that this miserable little -specimen of the mongrel race had been duly executed, for such had been -his stern orders, when at an inconvenient time Viper had first thrust -himself upon the notice of his master’s father. - -P. D. knew not that such execution was stayed through the weakness -of the executioner, who had hearkened to the heartrending pleas for -clemency and mercy that had poured in a torrent from Sandy, supported -by the pitying Hilda. Sandy had pledged himself moreover to see that -his dog was kept out of sight and sound of his parent. - -Of all his possessions, Sandy valued Viper the most. Ever since the -day when he had traded a whole sack of purloined sugar for the ugly -little yellow puppy, Sandy had loved his dog. He had “raised” him “by -hand,” in the beginning actually wrapping the puppy up in a towel and -forcing him to suckle from a baby bottle acquired at the trading-post -especially for that purpose. All that that dog was or would be, he owed -to Sandy McPherson. Sandy considered him “a perfect gentleman” in many -ways, one who could “put it all over those pampered kennel fellows.” -Viper could bark “Thank you” for a bone as intelligibly as if he had -uttered the words; he could wipe his mouth, blow his nose, suppress a -yawn with an uplifted paw, and weep feelingly. He could dance a jig, -turn somersaults, balance a ball on his nose, and he could laugh as -realistically as a hyena. Not only was he possessed of these valuable -talents, but Viper had demonstrated his value by services to the ranch -which only his master fully appreciated. The barns, when Viper was at -hand, were kept free of cats and poultry and other stock that had no -right to be there, and Sandy’s job of bringing home the milk cows in -the morning and evening was successfully transferred to Viper. Sandy -had merely to say: - -“Gawn! Git ’em in,” and the little dog would be off like a flash, -through the barnyard, out into the pasture, and up the hill to where -cattle were grazing. He would pick out from among them the ten head of -milk stock, snap at their heels till they were formed into a separate -bunch, and drive them down to the milk sheds. - -Viper’s continued existence at O Bar O, therefore, was most desired -by his master. By some miracle, due largely to P. D.’s absorption in -his own important affairs, the little dog had escaped the notice or -especial observation of Sandy’s father. Once he had indeed looked -absently at the dog as he passed at the heels of Sandy, and he had -actually remarked at that time on the “Indian dogs” that were about the -place, and that should be kept toward the camps. - -In the hurry and rush of events of this especial day, Viper was -forgotten, and the excited Sandy had omitted to lock him up in the -barn, as was his custom, when he went to the house. - -So far as P. D. was concerned, Viper was a dead dog. Very much alive in -fact, however, was Sandy’s dog, as curled up on that couch of luxury -he bit and snapped at elusive fleas that are no respectors of places -and things and thrive on a dog’s back whether he be lying upon a -bed of straw or sand or, as in the present instance, curled up on an -overstuffed sofa. - -Meanwhile, as Sandy made his unwilling moves, and while Viper -disappeared into the land of oblivion through the medium of dog sleep, -a whispered council of war was held on the front verandah. - -“Go in and speak to him now. The game may run on till midnight. You -know Dad! If, by any chance, Sandy puts up a good fight and prolongs -the game, he’ll have it to do all over again and again until Dad beats -him hard, and if Sandy plays a poor game, then he’ll be as sore no -one’ll be able to go near him and he’ll make me take his place. So -there you are. You may as well take the bull by the horns right now, -and hop to it.” - -The woman tempted and the man did fall. - -The foreman of O Bar O, endeavouring to put firmness and resolution -into his softened step, took his courage into his hands and entered -the forbidden presence of the chess players. Hat in hand, nervously -twisting it about, tobacco shifted respectfully into one cheek, this -big, lanky gawk of a man cleared his throat apologetically. Only -a slight twitch of one bushy eyebrow betrayed the fact of P. D.’s -irritated knowledge of the presence of intruders. - -“Dad!” Hilda’s voice trembled slightly. She appreciated the gravity of -interrupting her father’s game, but Hilda was in that exalted mood of -the hero who sacrifices his own upon the altar of necessity and duty. -What had occurred at the corrals was a climax to her own judgment and -condemnation of the prisoner before the bar. - -P. D. affected not to hear that “Dad!” On the contrary, he elaborately -raised his hand, paused it over a knight, lifted the knight and set it -from a black to a red square. Dangerous and violent consequences, Hilda -knew, were more than likely to follow should she persist. A matter of -life and death concerned not the chess monomaniac when a game was in -progress. Not till the old gambler could shout the final: - -“Check to your king, sir! Game!” should man, woman, child, or dog dare -to address the players. - -“Dad!” - -P. D.’s hand, which had just left the aforementioned Knight, made a -curious motion. It closed up into a fist that shot into the palm of -his left hand. Up flashed bright old eyes, glaring fiercely through -double-lensed glasses. Up lifted the shaggy old head, jerked amazedly -from one to the other of the discomfited pair before him. - -“What’s this? What’s this? Business hours changed, heh? Who the----” - -Bully Bill cleared his throat elaborately and lustered a clumsy step -forward. - -“Just come over to the house to tell you I’ve fired his royal nibs, -sir, and he’ll be over for his pay.” - -“You’ve _what_?” - -“Fired----” - -Half arising from his feet, P. D. emitted a long, blood-curdling, -blistering string of original curses that caused even his hardened -foreman to blench. That raised voice, those unmistakable words of -wrath penetrated across the room and into the cocked ear of Sandy’s -sleeping dog. Full and exciting as the owner of Viper made all of his -days, the exhausted animal never failed, when opportunity offered, to -secure such rest as fate might allow him from the wild career through -which his master daily whirled him. Nevertheless that raised and testy -voice, for all Viper knew, might be directed against the one he loved -best on earth. - -Viper turned a moist nose mournfully to the ceiling, and ere the last -of the scorching words of P. D. McPherson had left his lips, a low -moan of exquisite sympathy and pain came from the direction of the -overstuffed couch. Instantly the red, alarmed flush of guilt and terror -flooded the freckled face of the owner of the dog, as wriggling around -to escape that raised hand of his furious parent, Sandy added chaos to -confusion by upsetting the sacred chess board. - -There was a roar from the outraged chess player, a whining protest -from the boy, ducking out of his way, and at that critical moment, -Viper sprang to the defence of his master. Planting himself before P. -D. McPherson, the little dog barked furiously and menacingly, and then -fled before the foot kicked out for dire punishment. Pandemonium broke -loose in that lately quiet room, dedicated to the scientific, silent -game of chess. - -“Who let that dog in?” roared the enraged ranchman. - -“He come in himself,” averred Sandy, quailing and trembling before his -father’s terrible glance, and casting a swift, furtive look about him -for an easy means of exit. - -“Get him out! Get him out! Get him out!” shouted P. D., and, seizing a -golf club, he jabbed at the swiftly disappearing animal. For awhile, -dog and boy cavorted through the room, the one racing to safe places -under sofas and behind chairs and piano, and the other coaxing, -pleading, threatening, till at last, crawling cravenly along the floor -on his stomach, Viper gave himself up to justice. - -“Hand him over to me,” demanded P. D. - -“Wh-what’re you goin’ to do to him?” quavered the boy, an eye on -the niblick in P. D.’s hand, and holding his treasured possession -protectingly to his ragged breast. - -“Never mind what I’m going to do. You hand that dog to me, do you hear -me, and do it G-- D-- quick!” - -“Here he is then,” whimpered Sandy, and set the dog at his father’s -feet. - -There was a flash, a streak across the room, and the dog had -disappeared into some corner of the great ranch house. The boy, with a -single glance at his father’s purpling face, took to his heels as if -his life were imperilled and followed in the steps of his dog. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -Bully Bill stretched his long neck, and appeared to be troubled with -his Adam’s apple. His eye did not meet the ireful one of his employer. - -“I came over to the house,” he repeated, with elaborate casualness, “to -tell you I’ve fired his royal nibs.” - -“Fired what? Who? The King of the Jews or who in the name of chattering -crows do you mean? - -“And you come to me at the hour of two-thirty in the afternoon to -announce the discharge of an employee of the O Bar O? Eh?” - -“Wa-al, I reckon, boss, that O Bar O can’t afford to keep no -white-livered hound in its employ for even the rest of the day.” - -“What crime has he committed?” - -“Well, it ain’t a crime exactly, but--well, boss, I give him an easy -job to do--a kid’s job--Sandy could a done it, and I’m switched if he -didn’t double over and faint dead away at the first bat of the brand. -Never seen nothing like it in my life. At the first sniff! Why, a baby -could----” - -“Do you wish me to understand that you fired an employee of my ranch -because he had the temerity to be _ill_?” - -His irritation, far from being appeased, was steadily mounting. - -“Dad,” interrupted Hilda, stepping forward suddenly. “It wasn’t -illness. It was worse than that. It was plumb cowardice.” - -“Cowardice! Look in the dictionary for the proper definition of -that word, young woman. A man doesn’t faint from cowardice. He runs -away--hides--slinks off----” - -“That’s what he did--in France. He confessed it when he came to. Tried -to excuse himself by saying it was constitutional. Just as if anyone -could be a constitutional coward. Bully Bill is right, Dad. O Bar O -cannot employ that kind of men.” - -“Who is running this ranch?” demanded P. D., with rising wrath, thumping -upon the table, and upsetting the last of the chess men and then the -table itself. - -“But, Dad----” - -“Silence!” - -Mutinously, the girl stood her ground, catching her breath in sobbing -excitement. - -“But, Dad, you don’t understand----” - -“One more word from you, miss, and you leave the room. One more word, -and we’ll cut out the gymkhana at Grand Valley next week.” - -Turning to the foreman: - -“Now, sir, explain yourself--explain the meaning of this damnation, -unwarranted intrusion into my house.” - -Slowly, gathering courage as he went along, Bully Bill told the tale of -the branding. - -P. D., finger tips of either hand precisely touching, heard him through -with ill-concealed impatience and finally snapped: - -“And you adjudge a man a coward because of a few words said while in -a condition of semi-hysteria and delirium. Pi-shshsh! Any half-baked -psychologist would tell you that a man is not responsible for his -vague utterances at such a time. The evidence you adduce, sir, is -inconclusive, not to say preposterous, and damned piffling and -trifling. By Gad! sir, the rôle of judge and jury does not become you. -You’re hired to take care of my cows, not to blaggard my men. What’s -been this man’s work?” - -“General hand, sir.” - -“Efficient?” - -“Ain’t no good at chores. He’s the bunk at fencing. Ain’t a bit o’ help -with implements; no account in the brush; ain’t worth his salt in the -hay field; but--” reluctantly the foreman finished, “--he’s a damned -good rider, sir. Best at O Bar O, and he’s O. K. with the doegies.” - -“And you ask me to fire a first-class rider at a time when the average -’bo that comes to a ranch barely knows the front from the hind part of -an animal?” - -“Dad,” interjected Hilda again, her cheeks aflame. “Look here, you may -as well know the truth about this man. He was engaged in the first -place as a joke--nothing but a joke, and because Bully Bill was late -at the haying and said we’d have to cut out the races this year, and -things were dull, and he took him on to liven things up, didn’t you, -Bill?” - -Bully Bill nodded. - -“Well, we’ve had tenderfeet before at O Bar O, and we’ve all taken a -hand stringing them, as you know, but this one was different. I--I -disliked him from the very first, and----” - -“Ah, g’wan! You’re stuck on him, and you know it!” - -Sandy, who had returned as far as the door, gave forth this disgusted -taunt. Upon him his sister whirled with somewhat of her father’s fury. - -“How _dare_ you say that?” - -“’Cause it’s true, and I told him so, too.” - -“You told _him_--_him_--that I--I--I----” - -Hilda was almost upon the verge of hysterics. She was inarticulate with -rage and excitement. The thought of Sandy confiding in Cheerio that she -was “stuck” on him was unendurable. - -“Why so much excitement?” queried her father. “Do you realize that the -flood of words you have unharnessed would have force and power enough, -if attached to machinery, to run----” - -“Do you think I’m going to stand for that--that--_mutt_ accusing me of -caring for a--_coward_?” - -At that moment, a gentle cough at the door turned all eyes in its -direction. Natty and clean, in his grey English suit--the one he had -worn that first day he had come to O Bar O--Cheerio was standing in the -room looking about him pleasantly at the circle of expressive faces. No -sooner had the girl’s angry glance crossed his own friendly one, than -out popped the despised word: - -“Cheerio!” said Cheerio. - -His glance rested deeply upon Hilda for a moment, and then quietly -withdrew. Sandy, whose allegiance to his former hero and oracle had -been somewhat shattered by the corral incidents, suddenly grinned at -his friend and favoured him with a knowing wink. - -“Aw, she’s hot under the collar just ’cause I told her I told you about -her being stuck on you.” - -“_I_--_I_--just fancy _me_ stuck on him! Just as if _any_ one could be -stuck on someone they--they--despised and hated and----” - -The words were pouring out breathlessly from the almost sobbing Hilda. -Cheerio regarded her gravely and then looked away. At sight of the -upturned chess table, he whistled softly, stepped forward and set it in -place. Stooping again, he picked up the scattered chessmen and then, to -the amazement of all in that room, Cheerio calmly proceeded to set the -men precisely in place upon the board. As he put the King, the Queen, -the Bishop, the Knight and the Castles into their respective places, -a curious expression, one of amazement not unmixed with joy, quivered -over the weatherbeaten face of old P. D. McPherson. When the pawns were -upon their squares, almost mechanically the Chess Champion of Western -Canada pulled up his chair to the table. Over his glasses he peered up -at the Englishman. - -“You play chess, sir?” - -“A bit.” - -A speck of colour came out on either of the old man’s high cheek bones. - -“Very good, sir. We will have a game.” - -“Awfully sorry, sir. I’d jolly well like a game, b-b-but the fact is, -I’m--er--what you call in Canada--hiking.” - -“Hiking--nothing,” muttered P. D., as he set his own side into place. -“I allow you the Whites, sir. First move, if you please.” - -“Awfully sorry, sir, b-but the fact is, I’m d-d-d-discharged, you know. -Mr. Bully Bill here----” - -“Damn Bully Bill! I’m the boss of the O Bar O! Your move, sir.” - -Cheerio blinked, hesitated, and then lifted his pawn and set it two -paces forward. - -Slowly, carefully, P. D. responded with a black pawn in the same -position. - -Cheerio made no second move. He was leaning across the board, looking -not at the chessmen but straight into the face of his employer. - -“Tell you what I’ll do, governor” (he had always referred to P. D. as -“governor”) “I’ll play you for my job. What do you say? One game a -night till I’m beat. I’ll work through the day as usual, and play for -my job at night. There’s a sporting proposition. How about it?” - -A snort came from Sandy and a smile from Hilda. - -“The poor simp!” audibly chuckled the boy. Hilda was laconic and to the -point: - -“Hm! You’ll be hitting the trail in short order.” - -P. D. merely looked over his glasses with a jerk, nodded and grunted: - -“Very good, sir, I accept your terms. Your move!” - -Cheerio’s Knight made its eccentric jump, and after a long pause the -ranchman’s Bishop swept the board. Cheerio put forward another pawn, -and down came P. D.’s Queen. His opponent’s King was now menaced from -two sides, on the one by P. D.’s Queen and on the other by his Bishop. -Cheerio’s expression was blank, as after a pause he neatly picked up -and put another pawn one pace forward. P. D. was holding his lower -lip between forefinger and thumb, a characteristic attitude when in -concerned thought. There was deep silence in the room, and it was -fifteen minutes before the ranchman made his next move; ten before the -Englishman made his. - -Hilda’s breath was suspended, her cheeks scarlet, her eyes wide with -excitement, while Sandy, his mouth agape, watched the moves with -unabated amazement. - -Bully Bill, meanwhile, discreetly departed. Once Cheerio had taken -his seat opposite the old chess monomaniac his foreman realized that -“the jig was up.” He did not admit defeat to his men. That would have -been a reflection upon his own influence at O Bar O. Bully Bill gave -forth the information that Cheerio had given a satisfactory explanation -of his action at the branding, and the “confession” which Holy Smoke -had overheard must’ve been “a sort of a mistake. Because there ain’t -nothing to it,” said Bully Bill, chewing hard on his plug, and avoiding -the amazed eye of the injured Ho. - -Meanwhile, in the living-room of O Bar O, two more moves had been made -and the chessmen faced each other in an intricate position for the one -side. With eyes bulging, Sandy leaned forward, staring at the board, -while Hilda drew her chair close to her father’s. Slowly there dawned -upon the son and daughter of P. D. McPherson--no mean chess players, -despite their aversion for the game--the realization that a trap was -being deliberately forged to close in upon their father’s forces. Hilda -wanted to cry out, to warn her old Dad, but a pronounced twitching of -P. D.’s left eye revealed the fact that he was sensitively cognizant -of his danger. Hilda’s hand crept unconsciously to her throat, as if -to still her frightened breathing, as she gazed with incredulous eyes -at the diabolical movements of the man she now assured herself she -bitterly and positively detested and loathed. - -There was a long silence. Another move and a longer pause. P. D.’s -trembling old hand poised above a Knight. Pause. A pawn slipped to the -left of the Knight. The Knight half raised--no place to go--sacrificed. -Out came the Queen. A pause. The Englishman’s Bishop swept clear across -the board and took up a cocky position directly in the path of P. D.’s -King. He moved to take the Bishop, saw the Castle in line, retreated, -and found himself facing Cheerio’s Queen. Another move, and the Knight -had him. A very long pause. A search for a place to go. P. D.’s dulled -eyes gazed through their specs at Cheerio, and the latter murmured -politely: - -“Check to your king, sir. Game.” - -The dazed P. D. stared in stunned silence at the board, forefinger and -thumb pinching his underlip. - -“Holy Salmon!” burst from Sandy. A sob of wrath came from the big chair -where sat the daughter of the former chess champion. - -“Awfully sorry, governor,” said Cheerio, gently. - -P. D. reached across a shaking old hand. - -“I congratulate you, sir,” said the defeated one. “You play a damned -good game.” - -For the first time in his chess life, P. D. McPherson had been soundly -licked. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -The news fled like a prairie fire. From ranch to ranch, from the -trading stores that dotted the foothill country, up to Banff, where P. -D.’s packhorses were carrying the tourists into the supposed wilds of -the Rocky Mountains and down to the cowtown of Cochrane. Here the news -was received with consternation and amazement. - -P. D.’s name was a household word. His cattle, his grain, so ran -the legend, had made this part of the country famous throughout the -civilized world. And as for chess: The country people knew but vaguely -the meaning of the word; but they did know at least that it was -associated in some illustrious way with their distinguished neighbour, -P. D. McPherson. He was a Chess Champion. “Champion” was a name to -conjure with. It put P. D.’s name upon several occasions into the -newspapers; in obscure parts where they printed riddles and conundrums -and funny stuff for children, but also whenever P. D.’s exploits at -the cattle fairs were summed up in the local press, and his picture -appeared on the front page and he gave out interviews predicting the -ruin of the country or its ascendancy above all other countries in the -world, there was always a line included about P. D. being the Chess -Champion of Western Canada and potential champion of all of Canada. - -Even the riders on the range and the crews at the road and lumber camps -stopped each other to gossip about the incredulous news. - -“Did you hear about P. D.?” one would inquire. - -“No, what about him?” - -“He got beat. Beat at chess.” - -“G’wan!” - -“Sure did.” - -“You don’t say. Who done it? Betchu some Yank come on over from the -States, huh?” - -“Not on your life. One of his own men done it.” - -“G’wan! Who?” - -“Well, that English fly, the Cheerio Duke they call him, the one they -picked off the road in July--he licked the pants off P. D.” - -“You don’t say. _Him!_ Why, he’s nothing but a tenderfoot. He don’t -know nothing.” - -“Don’t he, though! That’s where you’re off your bat. What he don’t -know, ain’t worth knowing, believe me.” - -“Well, you hear all sorts o’ tales about him. Who is he, anyway?” - -“Dunno, and nobody else does. But one thing’s sure, he licked P. D. -Licked him the first time they played, and he’s kept it up every night -since. They’s a bet on. He’s to hold his job till P. D. licks him, and -from the looks of things ’pears like he’s got a permanent job. And -say--I heard that the old man ses he ain’t goin’ over to the States to -play for championship there until he’s trimmed Cheerio chap.” - -“I want to know! The Calgary _Blizzard_ had a whole column ’bout him -goin’ over to the States to beat the Champion there.” - -“Well, he’s got his hands full right here.” - -“Guess I’ll ride over and take a look-in at O Bar.” - -“Not a chance. Say, the old man’s sore as a dog. Ain’t lettin’ a soul -into the house. Has himself shut in and ain’t taking a bite of air -and hardly any eats. Just gone plumb crazy on that chess game. It’s -something like checkers, only it ain’t the same. You got to use your -nut to play it.” - -“Well, here’s to old P. D. Hope he wins.” - -“Here’s to him, as you say, but he ain’t got a chance. That Cheerio -duke ain’t no amachoor.” - -Alberta, as all the world is beginning to know, is a gambler’s -paradise. In this great boom land, where every day brings its new -discoveries of gold, oil, coal, silver, salts, platinum and all the -minerals this world of ours hides within herself, one tosses a penny -on life itself. From all parts of the world come people whose lives -and hopes are dependent upon games of chance, be they of the board, a -pack of cards, the stock market, the oil fields or the great gamble -of the land. Gambling is instinctive and intuitive in Alberta. A -chance is taken on anything. The man in the city and the man upon the -land throwing the dice of fate upon the soil are equally concerned in -gambling. - -Cheerio’s proposition, therefore, and the way in which it was rumoured -he continued to beat the veteran chess player appealed to the sporting -sense of the country. It was not long before money was up and bets were -on the players. News of the game swept down finally to Calgary, and a -sporting editor dispatched a reporter upon the job. The reporter liked -his assignment first rate, since it included a trip into the foothills -and an indefinite leave of absence. He was not, however, received with -open arms at O Bar O. - -Hilda, when he revealed the fact that he was a reporter, snapped the -screen door closed, and only after the most diplomatic argument on the -part of the newspaper man finally consented to announce his presence at -O Bar O to her father. - -“Just tell him,” said the reporter, “that I only want a word or two -from him, and I’ll not print a line that he doesn’t approve of.” - -To this perfectly amicable message, P. D. (invisible but plainly heard -shouting his explosive reply) returned: - -“No, G-- D-- it. I’ll see no snooping, spying, G-- D-- reporter. I’ll -have none of ’em on my place. I’ll have ’em thrown off. This is no -public place, and I’ll have no G-- D-- reporter trespassing upon my -G-- D-- privacy.” - -Hilda, back at the screen door: - -“My father says he doesn’t want to see you, and if I were you, I’d beat -it, because we’ve got some pretty husky men on this place and you don’t -look any too strong. There’s no telling what might happen to you, you -know.” - -“Will you just ask your father, then, if he will give me, through -you, a statement as to the chances of Canada winning the World -Championship, either through him or his present opponent. What we are -chiefly interested in--that is to say, the readers of the Calgary -_Blizzard_--is whether or not we are to have the Cup for Canada. It -doesn’t matter whether Mr. McPherson or his opponent gets it for us.” - -“Oh, doesn’t it, though!” Hilda could have hit him with pleasure. So -it didn’t matter to the big, heartless public whether her Dad or that -Englishman won or not. - -“Well, would you mind asking your father just that?” - -Hilda, inside: - -“Dad, he wants to know whether either you or--_him_” (Hilda referred -always to Cheerio as “him” or “he”) “will be going to Chicago for the -tournament now.” - -“You tell that bloody young news hound that he’ll do well to clear off -the place in a damn quick hurry, or we’ll make it a damned sight hotter -for him than the place he’s eventually headed for.” - -Hilda, back at screen door: - -“My father says for you to clear off the place, and I advise you to, -too. You’ve a nerve to come here to get stuff to print against my -father in the paper. I’d just like to see you dare to print anything -about us. It’s none of the newspapers’ business, and my father will -win, anyway.” - -“Thank you. I’m glad to have that line on the game. Did he win last -night?” - -“I’m not going to answer a single question. We don’t want a single -thing to get in the papers.” - -“But it’s already been in the paper.” - -“What?” - -“Here you are--half a column story.” - -Hilda came out on to the porch, and seized and scanned the paper. Her -face burned as she read, and the hot, angry tears arose in her eyes. -How dared they publish for all the world to read that her old dad was -being beaten each night by that Englishman? She whirled around on the -inoffensive reporter. - -“Who wrote that beastly stuff? It’s a damned shame. Just goes to show -what your old newspapers are. Did you write it?” - -“No, no,” hastily denied the reporter. “I was only assigned to the -job to-day. That’s some outside stuff telephoned in, probably by one -of your neighbours. I’m here to follow up--to get a special story, in -fact. And look here, Miss McPherson--you’re Miss McPherson, aren’t -you?--well, look here, it’s better for us to get the dope directly from -yourselves than have to make it up. I’m here to get a story, and I’m -going to get it.” - -“Well, let me tell you, you’ll have some sweet time getting it.” - -“I intend to stay here till I do.” - -“Here on our steps? I’d like to see you.” - -“Well, not exactly on the steps--but on the job, at all events, I’ll -camp down the road by the river, and I can cover the story just as well -from there.” - -Hilda threw him a look of withering scorn. Pushed the screen door open, -and banged it, as well as the inside door, in the reporter’s face. - -He stood in thought a moment on the steps and then he jotted down: - - “Beautiful young daughter of P. D. McPherson on guard over father. - Inherits famous disposition. Declares that her father will win. - Intimates that he, not his hitherto victorious opponent, will go to - Chicago----” - -At this juncture, and while he was jotting down the notes anent Hilda -McPherson, Cheerio came up the steps and crossed the verandah toward -the front door, followed by Sandy, who, much to the bitter indignation -of his sister, was once again the Englishman’s satellite and admirer. - -“Good evening,” said the reporter, cordially. - -“Hello!” returned the unsuspicious Cheerio, and returned the grip of -the newspaper man’s hand. - -“I wonder if you could give me some information about this Englishman -who’s playing opposite Mr. P. D. McPherson for the Western Championship -and----” - -“Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-what f-f-for?” stammered Cheerio, taken aback by the -question. - -“I’m from the Calgary _Blizzard_ and----” - -“G-g-g-good God!” - -“If you know the man who----” - -“Gee! He’s him hisself!” chortled Sandy. - -Cheerio was punching the electric bell persistently. Hilda, hurrying -at the summons, opened the door inside, cast a haughty look from the -reporter to Cheerio, and then reluctantly unhooked the latch and let -the latter in. She closed both doors again with a snap. - -Sandy, who had not followed Cheerio into the house, stood grinning -up at the reporter, and the latter was seized with an inspiration. -He returned the jeering stare of P. D.’s son with a man-to-man look -of confidence. Nonchalantly, he brought forth a cigarette case and, -extending it carelessly to Sandy, invited him to have one. Sandy, whose -young lips had never touched the forbidden weed, helped himself with -ostentatious carelessness and even accepted the light tendered from -the other’s half finished stub. - -“In a hurry?” asked the newspaper man. - -“Nope.” - -“Suppose we sit over here.” - -The reporter indicated the steps, and Sandy leaned back against the -pillar with the cigarette alternately between his two fingers or -between his young lips. - -“You’re P. D. McPherson’s son, are you not?” - -“Yeh.” - -“Well, what about this Englishman? I wonder if you can tell me -something about him.” - -“Sure,” said Sandy, ignoring a sudden quaking at the pit of his -stomach, and blowing out an elaborate whiff of smoke. “Sure, I c’n tell -you all about him.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -If the orders issued from headquarters (viz. P. D. McPherson) had been -implicitly obeyed, the life of the newspaper man would have been most -uncomfortable. Even as it was, he was prudent enough to give the house -a wide berth. “Dunc” Mallison was fond of fishing, and his assignment -was in the nature of a vacation for him. He possessed a “dinky” little -flivver, whose front seat turned back on hinges, transforming the -interior into a tolerably comfortable bed, a la Pullman. Scouting along -the banks of the Ghost River, which bounded one side of the O Bar O -ranch, the newspaper man found an ideal place for a camp, not far from -the cave where Cheerio painted of a Sunday in secret. - -Though “Dunc” fished the greater part of the day, he nevertheless -dispatched bulletins to his paper in town, and began work on a -feature story concerning P. D., the mysterious Cheerio, Hilda -McPherson, “beautiful daughter of the Chess Champion and famous -rancher,” Sandy, the wise young son and heir of O Bar O, and the -various other folk who made up that temperamental ranch. The reporter -depended not upon personal interviews with P. D. himself after that -first explosive-forced session, through the medium of the evidently -belligerent Hilda. Sandy, the guileless and the garrulous, himself -interested in the attractions of the Ghost River canyon, was a mine of -information upon which the reporter drew at length. Sandy was unable to -resist the cigarette case, nor did the resulting tumult in his stomach -of that first day’s indulgence prevent his appearance at the newspaper -man’s camp and the reindulgence in the noxious weed, which his father -had once vehemently declared was “purely poisonous.” - -Besides Sandy, Mallison had made the acquaintance of Cheerio. The -latter, on his way to his “cave studio,” had paused at the sight of the -reporter, fishing in the forbidden waters of the Ghost River. Now P. -D. had nailed at the Bridge on the Banff Road, large signs, warning -all aspiring fishermen to keep away from the Ghost River, and these -prominent notices were signed “P. D. McPherson, Fish and Game Warden.” -Cheerio, an employee of the O Bar O, was puzzled for a moment what to -do in the circumstances, but the triumphant smile of the reporter as -he held up three shining-bodied trout, disarmed the Englishman, who -grinned back in sympathetic response, and a moment later was sitting on -the bank beside the trespasser, filling his pipe from his old rubber -pouch. - -All of that quiet Sunday morning, the two fished and smoked, and though -their conversation practically consisted of monosyllabic remarks about -the water or the possibility of there being a pool farther up the river -where their chances might be even better and grunts of satisfaction or -exclamations of delight when something nibbled or bit at the end of -the lines, almost unconsciously a quiet feeling of comradeship grew up -between them, and each took the measure of the other and knew him for a -kindred spirit. - -In the middle of the afternoon, they counted with pride the results of -the day’s work. Cheerio made a “rock stove” and built a fine bonfire -in it, while Mallison cleaned and prepared the fish. While the bacon -was spluttering upon the pan, Sandy came down through the bush, and -squatting down before the reporter’s improvised table of an upturned -suit case, he sniffed the odour of frying bacon hungrily and said -vehemently, as his hands rested upon his stomach, “Oh, boy!” Mallison -was an excellent cook, and Cheerio and Sandy were excellent eaters and -they did justice to the fare set before them by the camper. - -After the meal, the three “chinned,” as Sandy expressed it, until the -deepening of the sun glow showed the end of the approaching day, and -Sandy’s drowsy head slipped back upon the grass and his questions came -irregularly and presently not at all. Then Cheerio dumped his pipe, -shook the half-asleep boy, and said: - -“Come on, old man. Time to get back,” and Sandy sat up with a start, -rubbed his eyes, yawned, and unwillingly arose and moved toward Silver -Heels, whose bridle had slipped down the slender trunk of the tree to -which it had been loosely tied. - -At the ranch house, the nightly games proceeded. Sometimes a game would -end with a single night’s playing; at other times a game would drag -along for a week. - -Cheerio had won three games in succession, when he suggested that his -opponent should be allowed a handicap. P. D. received this generous -suggestion with hostility and fury. - -“What for? What for? Because you win a damnation game or two, do you -mean to insinuate that I am out of your class?” - -“Nn-n-not at all, sir,” stammered Cheerio, “b-b-but you see, I’ve a -b-b-bit of an advantage over you, sir. B-b-been playing ch-chess for a -long time b-b-before coming to the ranch.” - -It was true enough, P. D. admitted, that he was off his game on account -of having had “only children and amateurs” to play with. Nevertheless -he had not fallen to the damned handicap class. There were thirty-one -days in the month; they had been playing but ten inconclusive and -insignificant days; he was neither a cripple nor a moron and he’d give -his opponent a dashed stiff fight before he was through with him, and -he asked for no quarter whatsoever now. - -The fierceness with which the old man took his well-meaning suggestion -caused Cheerio to stammer further explanations. During his recent stay -in Germany, so he said, he had played constantly, and the Germans were -excellent players. - -This was the first intimation that he had been in Germany, and the -information passed over P. D.’s head as of no especial interest, but -Hilda’s eyes narrowed and she began to speculate upon the cause of his -presence in their late enemy’s country. From day to day, Hilda had -been hardening her heart more and more against him and she was ready -to believe the worst. Hilda had her opinion of a man who pretended to -be a cowpuncher, who wore a piece of jewellery dangling from a black -fob at his waist. She despised the type of man, so she told herself, -who carried a woman’s face in a locket. Only a “sissy” would do an -asinine and slushy thing like that, and sissies were not popular in the -ranching country. However, apparently unconscious of, or indifferent -to, her glance of scorn at the despised locket, he continued daily to -wear it, and quite often, right before her eyes, even lovingly and -tenderly toyed with it. - -“What were you doing in Germany?” queried Sandy, pop-eyed with interest. - -Cheerio moved uneasily, thrust his hand through his hair, looked dashed -and worried, and shook his head. - -“_When_ were you there?” persisted Sandy. “Was it when the war was on?” - -“Y-y-y-yes, I believe it was,” admitted Cheerio, uncertainly. - -“Believe it was!” said Hilda. “Don’t you _know_ when you were there?” - -“Well--” began Cheerio, miserably, “you see----” - -He was interrupted by P. D., whose exasperated glare turned from his -son to his daughter. - -“Is this a game of chess, or a quiz concerning international questions -touching upon the infernal recent war?” - -“Chess, by all means, sir.” Thus Cheerio, placatingly, and with evident -relief at the change of subject. To Sandy, he promised: - -“Tell you all about Germany some day, old man, wh-wh-when I’m -f-ff-feeling a b-bit more f-fit to tackle the s-ssubject.” To P. D. -persuasively: - -“How about it, governor? It’s quite fair under the circumstances that I -should yield you something. What do you say to a Castle? One will do me -first-rate.” - -“Sir, when I want quarter, I’ll ask for it. I’ll have you know that -I have never yet taken a dashed flippity handicap and when the time -comes for me to do that, by Gad! I’ll cease to play. I play, sir, -chess, and I want no damned favouritism. I’ll be placed under no -G--D--oblig--D--igation to any man.” - -“Righto! Your move, sir.” - -P. D. was indeed off his game. He was, moreover, the victim of a -creeping panic. He made longer pauses, debated a move for a solid hour, -in the meanwhile moving (in his head) every single man upon the board; -imagine their effect in such and such a position, then presupposing a -move which his opponent never intended to make, with a crafty quiver of -a bushy eyebrow old P. D. would move to the attack, when the position -of his King called for defense. - -Once Cheerio made an obviously bad and wild move. This was when looking -up unexpectedly he had found Hilda regarding him, not with her usual -expression of hate and scorn, but with her dark eyes brimming with -something that brought a strange tug to his heart and dimmed his own -eyesight. - -At that bad move, P. D.’s amazed eyes shot up above his glasses and -he coughed angrily. If his opponent were attempting to curry favour -with him by playing badly, he would receive no thanks. P. D. removed -Cheerio’s valuable Bishop which had been sacrificed by his absent -move, and snarled across the board: - -“Damned curious move, sir. You wish to stop for to-night?” - -“M-m-m-ore c-c-areful next time,” murmured Cheerio, stiffened by the -fact that Hilda had blinked the brightness out of her eyes, and her -chin was at a most disdainful angle. More careful he was; wary, keen -and cunning. Before the clock pointed to nine o’clock, Cheerio murmured -his firm, if slightly regretful: - -“Check! Game!” - -P. D. studied the board, his eyebrows twitching. His King was enclosed -on all sides. Not even a chance for stalemate. This, though Cheerio had -sacrificed his Bishop. P. D. blinked behind his glasses, cleared his -throat noisily and grunted: - -“Four games for you, sir.” After another noisy clearing of throat: - -“Tides turn, sir. Tides turn. He ‘laughs best who laughs last.’” - -“Oh, rather,” agreed Cheerio eagerly. - -Undemonstrative Hilda came behind her father, solicitous and sweet, -hovered above him a moment, sat on the arm of his chair, put her arm -about his shoulders, cuddled her warm cheek lovingly against the top of -his grey head. P. D. jerked up, shaking the embracing arms irritably -from his shoulders. - -“Well, well, what’s this? What’s this? Stop pawing me,” he objected. -“What in the name of Holy Christmas are you whimpering about? I don’t -like it. Women’s tears are a scientific evidence of a weak intellect. -Stop sniffling, I say! Stop leaking on my neck! Damn dash it all! Get -away! Get away!” - -Hilda’s rare tears, dropping like pearls down her russet cheeks, -described as leaks! In the presence of that man, stooping above the -chess board the better to hide the amused grin that would show despite -his best efforts, despite indeed the stony glare (if eyes moist with -running-over tears could stonily glare) that Hilda favoured him with. - -She had no soft thoughts for him now. If she could have forgotten his -confession at the corrals, Hilda felt that she never, never could -forgive his treatment of her father. - -Just what Hilda would have desired him to do in the circumstances, -cannot be said. She would have shared her father’s resentment had -Cheerio purposely played a poor game, in order to give the older man an -opportunity to win. Nevertheless she bitterly resented the fact that -his victories were crushing the spirit of the old chess warrior. There -had been some discussion--an idea, in fact, put out in the newspaper of -that miserable reporter who was camped down by the river, on the edge -of the O Bar O lands, that in the event of P. D.’s failure to beat the -Englishman that the latter should take his place in Chicago, so that -Canada’s chances of the world championship might be more likely assured. - -That story, read by Hilda in the newspaper brought her from the camp by -Sandy, and jealously hidden from her father, caused the girl’s heart -to ache. She was intensely patriotic, was Hilda, and she desired, as -any good Canadian would, to see the championship wrested from the U. -S. A., but she loathed the thought of the wrester being Cheerio. She -had fondly hoped to see her father in that desired role. Her heart -coiled in tenderness about the crochetty, thorny old man, with his -stumbling moves. She could not recall when her father had played so -poorly or so uncertainly. He seemed to have lost all of his former -skill. His confidence in himself as a chess player was completely -gone. Anyone could have seen that after watching the old man play. -Even the winning of one game might have a good effect and restore P. -D.’s former confidence and craft. It was the daily absorption in the -game, and the constant losing which was having its bad psychological -effect upon him. Hilda knew that if P. D. failed to keep that Chicago -engagement, he would suffer the bitterest disappointment of his life. -She feared, indeed, it would seriously affect his health. He would lose -his interest in chess forever, and for P. D. to lose interest in chess -was tantamount to losing interest in life itself. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -Autumn came late to Alberta that year, and in the month of November, -the cattle were still upon the range. The experienced cowman in Alberta -is never deceived by the long sun-laden days of however warm an Autumn. -Well he knows that the climate of Alberta is like unto a temperamental -woman whose tantrums may burst forth into fury even while her smile -lingers. - -It is no uncommon thing in Alberta for a period of warm and balmy -weather to be electrically broken by amazing storms and blizzards which -spring into being out of a perfectly clear blue sky. Sometimes they -last but a few hours; sometimes they rage for a week, during which -period the effect is devastating to such of the cattlemen who have -their stock still upon the range. The cattle caught unawares in the -Autumn blizzard upon the open range will sometimes drift for miles -before it and have been known to perish literally by the hundreds when -trapped in coulie and gulch or driven for shelter against fence line, -lie buried body on body. Because, therefore, blizzards are dangerous -matters for the cattle to contend with, it is the custom in Alberta to -round up in the month of October, and some outfits round up as early as -September. - -At O Bar O this year there was an atmosphere of restlessness and -uncertainty. The riders were all at hand, awaiting word from the chief -to set forth upon the Fall round-up; to bring in the cattle loose -on the winter range to the home fields, where they would find ample -protection under the long cattle sheds, and be given proper care and -attention over the winter months. - -For more than a month streams of cattle belonging to other outfits had -been passing daily along the Banff Highway, coming down from the summer -range on the Indian or Forest Reserve, en route to their winter homes -on the ranches. This steadily moving army kept the O Bar O outfit on -tenter-hooks. - -Bully Bill, chewing, spitting, moving restlessly about, eager to be -off, kept his own counsel so far as the murmuring crew were concerned; -but a suggestive question however humorously or pacifically couched -anent the matter of O Bar O round-up aroused his irritation and -profanity to a hair-splitting degree. The harassed foreman was beside -himself with anxiety and uncertainty. The sight of his men slouching -about the corrals and the yards aroused both his wrath and his grief. -He had worked his wits all through the month of October to find -sufficient work to keep his men going, but the work created by the -foreman was of a sort for which a rider feels only contempt. November -the fifth, and _riders_--cowpunchers of the great O Bar O ranch -hauling logs for fire wood or fence posts! Puttering with fencing, -brush-cutting--Indians’ work, by Gad! Snugging up the bunkhouse and -barn with dirt and manure for the winter! By Gravy! Those were jobs for -tenderfeet and Indians. Not for self-respecting riders. No wonder the -fellows were beginning to growl among themselves and cast black looks -at the ranch house. Two of them had quit the service of the old ranch, -two first-class men, at that, and Bully Bill noted them later upon the -Banff Highway, riding with a hated rival outfit. - -The O Bar O prided itself on maintaining a prize crew of men. They -knew every inch of the range which extended over a hundred and fifty -thousand acres into the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. They knew the -brands of half the cattlemen in Alberta. They could pick out O Bar O -stock even when the brand was overgrown. At this time of year, skilled -labour of this sort were in great demand and could choose their own -jobs and demand their own price. If P. D. failed to find them regular -men’s jobs, his foreman knew that presently they would give ear to the -solicitations of rival outfits. - -“Whispering Jake,” owner of the Bar D Ranch in the Jackass Valley, -kept his eye “peeled” always for O Bar O hands. Himself unable to keep -his men for long, he was satisfied to engage men trained at O Bar O -and discharged for one cause or another. “Whisper,” as he was more -popularly known--the name having been given to him in derision, because -he talked always at the top of his immense voice--had been over the -last few weeks, supposedly to look for a roan heifer, which he declared -had strayed on to O Bar O. Bully Bill knew very well that the cowman -had come, in fact, to look the O Bar O men over and to drop a hint of -the amount of advance he was willing to pay over what the men were -getting from P. D. “Whisper” made a point of going up $20 a month over -O Bar O wages; but he dropped his men as soon as the rush season was -over and left them high and dry for the winter. On the other hand, P. -D. did not raise his men’s wages in the busy seasons, but kept them -on all winter, regardless of slack periods and the drop of price in -cattle. At Christmas, moreover, if the stock were in healthy shape and -the profit of the business warranted it, O Bar O men received an annual -bonus. - -This year “Whisper” had learned, through the medium of Holy Smoke, that -during the period when the hands of O Bar O were idling about waiting -for P. D. to give the order to set out upon the round-up, considerable -of the men’s wages had disappeared in poker games played in the -bunkhouse, and also at times in the newspaper man’s camp. The losers, -needing immediate funds, wavered toward the promises of the other -cattlemen, and especially toward “Whispering Jake.” - -Chafe and fret and rage internally as Bully Bill might, no word came -forth from the ranch house, where for more than a month the Chess -Champion of Western Canada and the potential challenger of the world -had been closeted each night with Cheerio. When the third man left -the service of O Bar O, Bully Bill hearkened to the suggestion of his -assistant and accompanied by him paid a visit to the ranch house, where -he requested Chum Lee to ask Miss Hilda to come to the front door. - -Hilda, in the living-room, intently watching every move upon the board, -looked up surprised at the whispered message of the Chinaman. Glad -to escape from what she clearly perceived was practically the end of -another game, the girl joined the foreman and his assistant upon the -verandah. - -“Miss Hilda,” began Bully Bill, “Ho and I are here to-night to ask you -what’re we goin’ to do about the cattle? We can’t afford to wait no -longer.” - -Hilda debated the matter, hand on chin. She was looking off quite -absently and suddenly she said to Bully Bill: - -“Look here, Bill, if Dad had only moved his Knight instead of his -Castle, he could have checked his King from both ends of the board and -the jig would have been up. But Dad’s losing his nerve. He’s been beat -too often lately. I can just see him fairly breaking. It’s telling on -him. He’s an old man, my Dad is, and it’s terrible at his age to lose -confidence. So long as Dad knew he was the best player in the West, he -was just as cocky and spunky as a two-year-old, but you ought to see -him now. Bunched up in his chair, his old eyes dim, and the eyebrows -sticking out and his lip bulged. You’d hardly know him. Oh! if he had -only moved his Knight! I could just have slapped him when he lifted -that darned Castle. I tell you, Bill, Dad has simply _got_ to beat -him. He’s got to win at least one game. He’d never survive a permanent -defeat, and apart from Dad’s feelings, neither would I!” - -“But, look-a-here, Miss Hilda, what’re we all agoin’ to do till then? -We can’t allow them cattle to be out till end of November. Why, them -cattle----” - -“Oh, the cattle! The cattle! You give me a pain! Can’t you think of -anything but cattle, cattle, cattle? I guess there’s people in the -world as well as cattle, cattle!” - -“So there are, miss, but at this time of year we got to think of the -cattle first, or they’ll get thinking with their own feet and first -thing we know they’ll wander off somewheres where you ain’t goin’ to -see them no more. Just let ’em get awandering up in them hills near -Broken Nose Lake, and I betchu that’ll be the last of ’em. Besides, -I heered down in Cochrane that there’s a sight of rustlers prowlin’ -around this year, and the Indians ain’t any too scrupilous and when -they’re hungry, they ain’t depising no handy beef. Why, Jim Lame-Leg’s -doin’ time now for as slick a trick as ever I heerd of. Drive a cow -over a canyon, and then git the job of haulin’ her out, and when she’s -out she’s got her leg broke and she dies on his hand, and the owner -pays for the haulin’ of the cow out with the dead carcass. Lee caught -’im breakin’ a leg of one of the Lazy L’s stock and the boss told him -to go ahead and shoot her and keep the carcass, till someone put him -wise, and he had the Mounty down from the Reserve and Jim Lame-Leg’s -doin’ time now. If we don’t look out there’ll be others just as smart -as Jim and when we come to countin’ up stock, I betchu we’ll be out a -dozen head and more.” - -“Well, it’s pretty bad, I know, but I won’t have Dad bothered about -cattle. He’s got enough on his mind right now. Anyway, I believe the -cattle are all right. What’s the matter with the herders, anyway? -They’re still out, aren’t they?” - -“Herders! My foot! Excuse my cussing, miss, but when you talk of -herders,--my gosh! Herders ain’t a bit of good when the cold snap -comes. They keep in their tents and holler for the riders and that’s -what the riders is for.” - -“But then, look at the weather this year. The cattle’ll get along for -a month yet, I do believe. Last year we had soft weather clear up till -Christmas. You know that and lots of cattle people were sorry they -hadn’t taken advantage of the weather and left the cattle on the range. -Anyway, they’ll come trailing home gradually themselves. Have all the -gates down.” - -“Some’ll come home, sure enough, but we got a lot of new stuff and they -ain’t broke to this range. We threw some of the best stock you ever set -eyes on over to the north of Loon Lake. If a storm comes up----” - -Holy Smoke, plaiting a long cowhide bullwhip had taken no part in -the conversation, but his ears were pricked up and his crafty eyes -scarcely left the girl’s face. - -“I tell you what you’d better do,” suggested Hilda, “get your men -together and start on off. Dad won’t mind, and it’s the only thing to -do.” - -“He won’t mind! He threw a million fits last year when I just gathered -in the lighter stuff before he said the word--stuff that was right at -the gate, at that. Orders is flat, nothing doing till he says the word. -He’s God Almighty on the O Bar O--begging your pardon, Miss Hilda--and -he wants every Son-of-a-Gun on the place to know it.” - -“I’ll say so!” declared P. D.’s daughter with pride. “Go along in, -then, and put your cards on the table before him.” - -“Nothing doing. Tried the job last week. He was out on this verandy -and he was walkin’ up and down, with his hands behind him and his head -dropped, and I ses to myself, ‘Mebbe he’s through. I’ll tuck in a word -edgeways now.’ So I slipped over and----” - -“What did Dad say?” - -Hilda was leaning forward, wide-eyed with delighted interest. Dad’s -utterances were always matters of the profoundest psychological -interest and pride to his admiring daughter. - -Bully Bill lowered his voice confidentially. - -“Miss Hilda, I ain’t got the nerve to repeat to you the curious string -of damns and cusses that your father give me and----” - -Hilda laughed, a rippling girlish chuckle of genuine pride and delight. - -“Isn’t Dad a perfect peach when he starts swearing? Don’t you love -it? It sounds so--so--healthy, somehow. Can’t he just rip out the -dandiest string of swear words you ever did hear? I’ll bet there’s -not another man in the entire country can cuss as my Dad can. Most of -’em run off just the ordinary common old damns, but Dad--why _Dad_ -can--can--literally coin cuss words. I’d rather hear my Dad cuss -than--than--hear a prima donna sing. Why, do you know, the very first -word that either Sandy or I learned to speak was ‘damn’!” - -Up tossed the young head. Hilda’s white teeth shone as her fresh -laughter rippled forth, and at that musical sound, and the sight of the -beautiful, laughing young woman before him, moved by an irresistible -impulse, Holy Smoke, who had been squatting at his work, jumped -restlessly to his feet. Hilda’s back was to the door. The hall was dark -behind her. - -“Miss Hilda,” said Ho, ingratiatingly, “we thought as how if you would -ask your father and----” - -“I? Not on your life. It’s all I can do to induce him to eat, let -alone talk of anything else in the world except chess--Kings, Queens, -Knights, Bishops, Rooks, Pawns! Gods and devils! Why did he make this -move, and what object he had in making that, and if he had done this -and hadn’t done that such and such a thing might have happened. Why, -Dad’s just plumb chess crazy!” - -“You said it,” grinned Ho delightedly, eager to ingratiate himself -by agreeing with her, and at the same time voice his own thought -regardless of the consequences. “This ain’t no cattle ranch no longer. -It’s a loon ranch.” - -“What’s that you say?” - -Hilda’s voice had risen with excitement. Someone came out of the -living-room inside, and paused half-way across the hall on his way to -the verandah. - -“I said--” repeated Holy Smoke, feeling a curious excitement and -delight in the flaming anger he had aroused--“I said that this ain’t no -longer a cattle ranch but a loon ranch.” - -“How dare you say a thing like that about O Bar O. A lot you know about -ranching. You come on over from the States with your wind and your brag -and there’s no one believes a word you say. You dare to insinuate that -my father is----” - -“When I said ‘loon,’ Miss Hilda, I wasn’t mentioning no names, but -s’long as you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, I’ll tell you that I was -thinkin’ of that English fly, him that’s made all of the trouble here. -My hands is itchin’ to lariat him and take it out o’ his hide. You -say the word, Miss Hilda, and there’ll be a bunch of us turn the trick -to-night!” - -At the mention of Cheerio, the dark blood had rushed into the face of -the girl. Her glance was full of contempt and hatred now. - -“You, Holy Smoke! Yes, you’d _need_ to rope your man. I’m thinking -otherwise you’d have your hands D-d-d-d-d-full if you tried to tackle -him man to man with your hands, for, take it from me, he’d make you eat -your words and twist!” - -Holy Smoke’s voice was husky: - -“Look ahere, d’you mean to say----” - -“Yes, I do mean to say--the very worst there is about you, and you can -get right off O Bar O the minute your month is up. I’ll undertake to be -responsible to my father and----” - -Ho’s tongue searched his cheek. An ugly chuckle came from him and his -slow words caused the girl to draw back as if struck. - -“Since you’re so stuck on him----” - -Hilda was aware that the door behind her had opened and then was banged -to. She whirled around, and found herself face to face with Cheerio. -Even in the moonlight, she could see that his face was set and stern as -his glance passed by her and rested upon the shifting gaze of Ho, who -suddenly, hurriedly moved away. - -There was no sound now but the sobbing breath of the excited Hilda. -Bully Bill had followed his assistant. She was alone on the verandah -with Cheerio. A moment she looked up in the quiet moonlight at the man -she had told herself so often that she hated. - -What must he think of her now? Had he heard Holy Smoke’s taunt? Would -he believe then that she--The thought was intolerable--an agony; but -her agony was turned to a curious bliss, when, quite suddenly, she -felt her hand warmly enclosed. For a long moment, he held her captive -and she felt the deep gaze of his eyes searching her own. Then she was -released, and like one in a dream she heard rather than saw him moving -away from her. Unconsciously, a sob in her throat, Hilda McPherson held -out her arms toward him. But he did not see her. She had a sudden -frantic apprehension that he would go after Holy Smoke--that there -would be a fight and he--An almost primitive fear of harm befalling -him, sent Hilda along to the edge of the verandah. Then she heard -something that stopped her flight, and held her there, straining to -hear the last note of that long, soft whistle which rose in crescendo -like a bird’s song that dropped across the silence of the night and -slowly melted away. - -Something rose in a suffocating flood in the heart of the Alberta-born -girl. Spellbound and shaken, suddenly Hilda consciously faced the -truth: She loved! - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -The shooting season was at hand. At frequent intervals along the fence -lines of O Bar O, big square slabs of white enamelled wood were nailed -to fence posts, bearing in great black letters the legend: - - TRESPASSING FORBIDDEN - Punished to fullest extent of law. - BEWARE THE DOGS - P. D. MCPHERSON, Owner. - -These daunted not the more persistent and intrepid of the hunters, who -slipped into this game paradise through the medium of the gate under -the Ghost River Bridge on the Banff Highway. Pitching camp near the -road, they penetrated up the great canyon and into the luring woods of -the forbidden country. - -Duncan Mallison, whose vacation was drawing to a close, resented any -intrusion upon his privacy. He had begun almost to regard the place -as his own private and personal preserve. Trespassers irritated and -interrupted him. Reluctantly, he made a final shoot of Hungarian -partridge and prairie chicken--enough to go the rounds of the newspaper -office--packed his camping outfit, and prepared to depart from the -vicinity of O Bar O. - -He had a moderately good feature story, but had been obliged to do a -lot of padding, elaborating and exaggerating on the amount of gambling -done and the odds on P. D. He was not satisfied with his “story.” He -just “sniffed the edges” of a story big enough to syndicate in a dozen -or more papers over the country and perhaps find a place also across -the line. His nose for news and his inherent sense of romance scented -another kind of story at O Bar O. This Englishman--whatever his name -was (of course, Cheerio was merely a nickname) interested the reporter. -It was plain that he was no ordinary ranch hand. Who, then, was he, and -what was he doing working on a ranch? - -“Younger son,” and, for that matter, older sons, were not uncommon in -the Alberta ranching country. It was in fact, an ideal place, for the -disposal of ne’er-do-wells, and if they had the “stuff” in them to -make real men of them. The reporter had come into contact with a great -many of these quite likable chaps from the old country, especially -upon those periodical occasions when remittances from home were due, -they came to town to spend a monthly allowance in a single night, or -several days of unadulterated spreeing. They were not noted especially -for their love of work, though there was good stuff in most of them as -was proved when the war broke out and a large percentage of the men who -marched from Alberta were of English birth. - -This Cheerio fellow was somehow different. Mallison could not exactly -place him. He worked. In point of fact, Cheerio was reputed to be -one of the best workers at O Bar O and really earned his modest $50 -a month. Nevertheless, the newspaper man recognised him at once as a -man of education and breeding. Mallison had heard the story of the -branding, and of the confession that had followed. Sandy was prone -to exaggeration, and the reporter, sifting the facts in the case, -was disposed to question whether this incident should be regarded -seriously. From Cheerio himself he learned scarcely nothing. Several -times intent upon acquiring a real interview with the man, he was -exasperated to discover after Cheerio had left him that Cheerio, on the -contrary, had interviewed him. He was extremely interested, apparently, -in newspaper work, and asked the reporter many questions concerning -the sort of papers supported by the City of Calgary, and also what -opportunity there might be for a man to get a berth on one of these as -a caricaturist or newspaper artist. - -Ruminating over the matter, the reporter lay flat upon the ground on -his back, hands under the back of his head, staring straight up at the -interlacing branches of a giant spruce tree, through which the sunlight -glistened and danced. Presently his reverie was disturbed. There was -the flurry and flutter of wings and up out of the bush there arose a -couple of grouse--wavered above his head a moment, then dropped down -behind the somewhat fantastic rock that jutted out above the river. - -“Doggone those hunters!” - -They were a distinct menace in the woods of O Bar O. They shot at -anything and everything. - -The bushes at the back of the reporter were violently agitated, and a -fat red face presently was thrust cautiously through. A man carrying a -shot-gun, and dressed in knickers and khaki hunting coat with numerous -little shell pockets, trod through the bush. Reporter and hunter -scowled at each other. Here was no entente cordiale. - -“Did you see where my birds dropped?” - -“Did you see those trespass signs along the road?” was the reply. - -“Did you see them yourself?” retorted the other. - -“You bet I did, and I’m here to see that others see them, too.” - -Turning back his coat, Mallison revealed a bright star pinned to his -vest. Now, that star represented the fact that the reporter had certain -rights at fires and other places where the press is permitted to be -represented; but to the hunter it looked fearfully like the star that a -game warden might carry. He essayed a conciliating laugh, while backing -hastily toward the exit at the bridge outside of which his Studebaker -was parked. He got into it in a great hurry. - -Grinning, Mallison sat up, his eye upon the out-jutting rock where the -grouse had fallen. Lazily he stretched himself; leisurely he climbed up -the cliff to the rock and lightly he dropped down in Cheerio’s cave. - -He swung around in a circle, blinking his eyes and emitting a long, -amazed whistle. - -For the next half hour he was a very busy reporter. Aladdin’s cave -could have afforded him no more satisfaction or interest. - -The Indian pictures were ranged along a shelf in the natural gallery -that stretched under the rock for a space of about thirty feet. It was -amply lighted and completely sheltered. As Mallison went down the line -of pictures he realized that here was indeed a rare find. - -Colour had been splashed prodigally upon the canvasses. Maroon, lemon, -magenta, scarlet, vivid purple, cerise, blues, flame colour. Indian -colours! Indian faces! Here was more than a mere tribe of Indians. -The artist had stamped indelibly upon the canvas a revelation of the -history of a passing race. He had painted the Iliad of the Indian race. - -Here was an ancient chief, grave, stern as a judge, with the dignity of -a king and a pride that all the squalor and poverty and starvation of a -long, hard life, the repression and tyranny at the hands of successive -Indian agents and parasites upon his race, had been unable to quench. - -Here, the infinitely old and wrinkled, toothless, witch-like -great-great-grandmother of the tribe, a crone who mumbled prophetic -warnings to which the lightest-hearted paid superstitious heed. And -here the blind Medicine Man. - -Smiling, wheedling, begging, the pleasantly-plump shining-faced squaws. -The Braves, young and old, variously clad, some clinging to the garb -of their ancestors, or wearing the holiday dress, gaudy Hudson’s Bay -blankets and rugs and headdresses of eagle or turkey feathers; others -in the half cowboy, half Indian clothes, and others again poorly -attired in the mockery of the white man’s clothes. - -Thin faces, deep and hungry-eyed, with that subdued look that tells not -so much of the conquering hand of the white man as of the insidious -effects of the great white plague. - -Tragic faces of half-breeds, pawns of an undesired fate. Something -of smouldering wildness, something of sadness, something of intense -longing and wistfulness looked from the strange eyes of the breeds, -legally white and permitted the “privilege” of the franchise, subject -to conscription and taxation, yet doomed to live among their red -kindred. - -Beauty peered from the half-lifted ragged magenta shawl of an Indian -Madonna, upon whose back the tiny blonde head of a blue-eyed papoose -told a story more eloquent than words. - -This, then, was the “find” of the newspaper man. Of the pictures, he -selected six. He had no compunction about helping himself. It was -part of his trade, and he had discovered the cave. What is more, he -cherished the enthusiastic ambition of making the unknown artist -famous. There were people in Calgary who would appreciate what this man -had done. Mallison intended to show his find to these connoisseurs. - -From the Indian pictures, he turned to the portfolio of sketches. -Several of Sandy and the ranch hands, one of Bully Bill, with the -quid of tobacco in his cheek, a characteristic bit of old P. D., one -of Viper at the heels of the milk cows, a stream of cattle pouring -over the hill, and--Hilda! One hundred and eighteen sketches of Hilda -McPherson. Now the reporter understood, and he chuckled with sympathy. -He did not blame the man. He had seen Hilda! - -From the portfolio, Mallison selected two or three sketches of P. D., -one of Sandy, three of Hilda, and a single photograph of Cheerio, taken -evidently in France, and in uniform. He was easily recognizable. There -was no mistaking that boyish and friendly smile, that seemed somehow -to irradiate and make singularly interesting the essentially sensitive -features of the young Englishman. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -Every night, after his dinner, P. D. would take what he termed a -“cat-nap.” Not even chess interrupted these short dozes on the -comfortable couch by the pleasantly-crackling logs heaped upon the big -fireplace. - -There would be an interval, then, when Cheerio and Hilda would find -themselves practically alone in the living-room. Sometimes Cheerio -would look across expectantly at Hilda, and she would turn away and -stare with seeming absorption out of the window. Then he would bring -forth his tobacco pouch, fill and light his pipe and dip down in the -pocket of his old coat and bring up a book. Hilda’s absorption in the -outside view would undergo a swift change. Against her will, she found -herself watching him furtively. It fascinated her to see the way in -which he would handle a book, his fingers seeming sensitively to caress -the pages. He always closed the book reluctantly and would return -it carefully to his pocket as if it were something precious. She had -satisfied her curiosity as to the titles and the authors of the books -he read. She had never heard the names before, and suffered a pang -that he should be close to matters concerning which she was totally -ignorant. She tried to comfort and reassure herself. Even if one had -missed school and college, even if one had been side-tracked all of -her life on an Alberta ranch, even if a girl’s solitary associates and -friends, over all the days of her life, had been merely the rough types -peculiar to the cattle country, _he_ had said that a world might be -discovered right within the pages of a book. There was hope, therefore, -for the unhappy Hilda. - -He had made that remark to no one in particular one night, as he gently -closed the book in his hand, and reached for the tobacco pouch in -his rough tweed pocket. Then he had filled his pipe, beamed upon the -sleeping P. D., and with his brown head against the back of the Morris -chair, Cheerio had lapsed into what seemed to be a brown study in -which Hilda and all the rest of the world appeared to disappear from -his ken. - -Cheerio had a trick of disappearing, as it was, in this -manner--disappearing, mentally. Always there would then arise something -torturing in the breast of Hilda McPherson. She had a passionate -curiosity to know where the mind of the dreaming man had leaped in -thought. Across the water--Ah! there was no doubt of that! Back in -that England of his! Figures rose about him. Hilda had an intuitive -knowledge of the types of people who were his familiars on the other -side. Always among them was the smiling woman, whose hair was gold -and whose lazy eyes had a lure in them that to the downright and -unsophisticated Hilda spelled the last word in fascination. “Nanna”! A -foolish name for a lady, thought the girl throbbingly, and yet a love -name. It was undoubtedly that. - -If the motherless girl could but have found a confidante on whom -to pour out all the torturing doubts and longings of these days, -something of her pain would have been surely assuaged. Chaotic new -emotions were warring within her breast. Her wild young nature found -itself incapable of wrestling with the exquisite impulses that despite -her best efforts she could not control. Hilda told herself that she -hated. An alarming voice seemed to retort from the depths of her -heart that that was but another name for Love. This--Love! She could -not--would not--dared not believe it. And yet the simple motion of this -man’s strong white hand, the slight quizzical uplift of his eyes had -the power to cause her to hold her breath suspended and send the blood -racing to her heart. - -Hilda was not subtle enough to search her soul or that of another. -She could not diagnose that which overwhelmed her. In a way she was -like one overtaken, trapped in a spell from which there was no door -through which she might escape. She had reason for believing him to be -unworthy--a man who put to a crucial test, had failed miserably; one -who had confessed to a flagrant and criminal weakness. - -She had judged him relentlessly, for youth is cruel, and love and -jealousy create a torment which is hard to bear. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -Duncan Mallison pushed the little swinging gate open with his knee and -sauntering across to the City desk, threw a bundle down upon it. - -“Why, hello, Dunc! Back?” - -“Hi, there, Dunc!” - -Several heads bent above typewriters raised long enough to call -across a word of greeting. Charley Munns, City Editor of the Calgary -_Blizzard_, his desk heaped high with an amazing mass of papers, -glanced up with a detached query in his harassed young blue eyes. - -“Well?” - -Mallison proceeded to untie the string about his package. Munns glanced -at the first of the pictures, jerked his chin out and looked again. -Mallison showed the second and then, slowly, the third. Munns had -pushed back the heap of papers. Pipe in hand, tired young blue eyes -suddenly bright and alert, he examined the remarkable sketches. An -interested group had gathered at the back of the city editor’s chair, -and the sketches passed from hand to hand. Mallison who had, without -words, merely laid the package of sketches before his city editor, -continued reticent when questioned by the staff. - -“Whose work was it? Where had he got them? Had they been exhibited? -What were they doing in Calgary?” and so forth. - -Oh, they were the work of a friend of his. Didn’t matter who. None of -them knew his name. No, they hadn’t been exhibited. - -Then he sat him down by the “Chief’s” desk, hugged his chin, and stared -gloomily before him. The men were back at their desks, and Munns signed -some slips, and then turned his attention back to his reporter. - -“Good work. Typical Stoneys, eh? Don’t know who your friend is, Dunc, -but it is worth two sticks--more if you’re personally interested. By -the way, about P. D.? How’d you come out?” - -The city editor had picked up again one of the sketches and was -examining it interestedly. It was of a young girl, standing on the top -of a hill, her horse, reins dropped, behind her, its mane blowing in -the wind. She was in breeks, with a boy’s riding boots and her sweater -was a bright scarlet. On her head was a black velvet tam. Something in -the wide-eyed dreaming look of the girl, as if she were gazing across -over an immense distance, seeing probably hills yet higher than the one -on which she stood, with the clear blue skies as her only background, -held the attention of the jaded city editor. - -“That’s really great. Fine! Who’s the girl, by the way?” - -“Hilda McPherson.” - -“Oh ho!” - -Mallison pulled out the slat of the desk, rested his elbows upon it, -and began talking. As he talked, his city editor’s eyes returned time -and again to the sketches, and suddenly he ejaculated: - -“Hello! What’s this?” - -Absently turning over the sketches, the photograph of Cheerio was -suddenly revealed. Charley Munns’ brows were puckering. One other -talent this man possessed. An almost uncanny gift of memory. It was -said of him that he never forgot a face once seen. - -“Half a mo’!” - -He had swung around a rackety file, that revolved on low wheels. -Digging into it, he presently found the “obit” that he sought, and -slapped down upon the desk a pile of press clippings, duplicate of the -photograph which the reporter had found at O Bar O, and a concise, -itemised description of the man in question. - -Editor and reporter scanned the story swiftly. There was no question -now as to the identity of the man at O Bar O. Cheerio’s obit read like -a romance. Son and heir of Lord Chelsmore, he had left his art studios -in Italy to return to England, there to enlist as a common soldier -in the ranks. Among those missing in France, posthumous honors had -been bestowed upon him. Soon after this, his father had died, and his -younger brother had succeeded to the title and estates and had married -his former fiancée. - -Charley Munns glanced through the various clippings, nodded his head, -and slapped them back into the big manila envelope. - -“I think you’ve stumbled across a big thing,” he said. “This man is -probably the real Lord Chelsmore. Find out just what he’s doing up -here. Not only a good news story here, but a fine feature story, if you -want to do it.” - -But the reporter was staring out angrily before him. Certain instincts -were warring within him. He wanted to shove his knees under that -typewriter desk and begin pounding out a story that would proclaim -Cheerio’s secret to the world. But a feeling of compunction and shame -held him back. - -After all, the fellow had a right to his own secret. He had been darned -nice to the reporter. Was a darned good friend. Mallison’s mind went -back to those long, pleasant Sundays, when they had talked and smoked -together. He recalled a day, when with a friendly smile, Cheerio had -tossed from his horse into Mallison’s arms a fine haunch of venison. A -man couldn’t buy venison from the Indians, nor, at that time, could he -shoot deer. The Indians alone had that right, and while they were not -permitted to sell venison to the white men, there was no law to prevent -them from making gifts of the desired meat. Nor was there any law that -prevented the white man returning the compliment with a bag of sugar -or a can of molasses or whatever sweet stuff the red man might demand. -Cheerio remarked that he had no use for the venison at the ranch house -and the stuff was a hanged sight better cooked over a camp fire, so -“There you are, old man. One minute, and I’ll give you a hand.” - -He had built the fire and he had cut up and broiled the venison, and he -had spread it thickly with O Bar O butter, and with a friendly grin, he -had dished it out to the camper. - -Mallison felt himself shrivelling under a mean pang. It was a dirty -trick to have taken the sketches, though Mallison proposed to show -them to certain prominent folk of Calgary who might help the fellow who -was a ranch hand. He had not intended to exploit his friend. He had a -good enough story about P. D., and he had been sent to “cover” P. D. -and the chess game. So why---- - -His chair scraped the floor. He leaned heavily across the city desk. - -“I say, Chief, I don’t need to find out what he’s doing up here. I -know. He’s up here so’s not to stand in the way of his brother’s -happiness. That’s how I dope it out. And he’s a darned good sort, and -I’m hanged if I want the job of writing a story like that. He’s a -friend of mine, and it’d be a scurvy trick. It’s none of our dashed -business, anyway.” - -“It’s a good newspaper story,” said the city editor without emphasis. - -“Oh, I dunno. Who gives a hang in this country about an Englishman? You -can dig up a dozen stories like that any day up here in Alberta.” - -“Maybe you can.” - -Charley Munns answered five telephone calls in succession, signed two -slips brought to him by a boy, read a telegram, called an assignment -across to a reporter who rose from his typewriter and made an instant -exit, and then turned back to the gloomy Mallison at his elbow. A grin -twisted the city editor’s mouth, and a humorous twinkle lighted up his -tired eyes. - -“Suit yourself, Dunc. Give’s a column, then, about old P. D. and the -chess, and run a few of the Indian pictures and the one of the old -man--the one with the pipe and the hat. Cut out the Cheerio man, then. -If he’s satisfied where he is, let him stay--among those missing. We -should worry.” - -Duncan Mallison grinned delightedly. - -“Thanks! I’ll tell him what you said.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -A mighty panorama of golden hills swelled like waves on all sides and -vanished into cloud-like outlines of yet higher hills that zigzagged -across the horizon and merged in the west into that matchless chain of -rugged peaks. Snow crowned, rosy under the caress of the slowly sinking -sun, bathed in a mystic veil of gilded splendour, the Canadian Rockies -were printed like an immense masterpiece across the western sky. - -Hilda rode slowly along, her gaze pinned upon the hills. Yet of them -she was thinking but vaguely. They were a familiar and well-loved -presence that had been with them always. To them she had turned in all -her girlish troubles. To them she had whispered her secrets and her -dreams. - -As she rode on and on, her thoughts were all of those strange evenings -in the company of this man--the too-short, electrical half hour or so -when they would be alone together before her father awoke. - -Her reins hung loose over her horse’s neck; her hands were in the -pockets of her hide coat; her head slightly bent, Hilda gave herself up -to a long, aching, yet singularly glowing day dream. Daisy made her own -trail, idly loping along above the canyon that skirted the Ghost River, -stopping now and then to nibble at the sweet grass along the paths. - -The woods were very still and lovely. Wide searchlights of the -remaining sunshine pierced through the branches of the trees and -flickered in and out of the woods, playing in golden, dancing gleams -upon the green growth. - -Brown and gold, deeply red, burnt yellow, and green, the trees were -freighted with glorious beauty. Masses of the leaves fluttered idly -to the ground, moved by the soft fragrant breeze and the branches on -bush and tree seemed lazily to shake themselves, as if succumbing -unwillingly to the slumberous spell of the quiet Autumn day. - -The flowers beneath the trees still shone, their radiance but slightly -dulled by the touch of the night frosts, seeming lovelier indeed, as -if veiled by some softening web-like touch. Scarlet and bright, all -through the wooded growth, the wild-rose berries grew. - -Coveys of partridge and pheasants fluttered among the bush, peeked up -with bright, inquiring eyes at the girl on horse, then hopped a few -paces away, under the thick carpet of leaves. - -In an open field, swiftly running horses raced to meet them. Like -playful children, they ran around and in front and on all sides of -Hilda’s mare, thrusting their noses against hers, and laying their -faces across her slender back, utterly unafraid of the rider, yet -timorous and moving at Hilda’s slightest affectionate slap or word of -reproval when they pressed too closely. - -She was off again. This time a race across a wide pasture and into the -hills to the west, turning at the end of a long, wooded climb up an -almost perpendicular slope, to come out upon the top of one hill, to -climb still higher to another, into a wide, open space, and again to -a higher hill, till, suddenly, she seemed to be on the very top of the -world. - -Below her, nestling like a small city, the white and green buildings of -the ranch showed. Very near it seemed, and yet in fact a distance of -two or three miles. From this highest point, the girl on horse paused -to cast a long, lingering look over the surrounding country that lay -spread below her. - -To the north were dim woods, thick and dark. An eagle soaring overhead. - -To the east, the wide-spreading pastures and the long, trailing road to -Banff. Dim forms of cattle and horse observable in the still lingering -light, moving specks upon the gracious meadows. - -To the south, the lower chain of hills and the sheep lands. A coyote’s -wild moaning call. A hawk circling toward the ranch house. - -Shining like a jewel in the mellow glow, the long, sinuous body of the -Bow River, rushing swiftly to make its junction with the more leisurely -flowing Ghost, upon whose surface the logs from the Eaue Claire Lumber -Camp were being borne by the hundreds upon the first lap of their -journey to Calgary. - -In the West, hill upon hill and still farther hill upon hill, and -beyond all, the snow crowned, inescapable immortal range of Rocky -Mountains, a dream, a miracle, emblematic of eternity and peace. - -It was hard indeed to tear her gaze from the last lingering gleams -of that marvellous sunset. There was that about it that uplifted and -comforted the aching heart. Hilda sighed and at last her long gaze was -reluctantly withdrawn, dropped lower over the hill tops, the woods, and -came to rest, alertly and still, upon a moving shadow that slipped in -and out of the bush in a direct line with the barbed wire fencing. - -She rode slowly, leisurely, but her reins were now in her hands. In -all her young life, Hilda McPherson had known not the meaning of the -word fear. Anger, pain, pity and now love, had shaken her soul, but of -fear she knew nothing. That anyone should wish to harm her, was beyond -her comprehension. So she rode forward quietly, almost indifferently. -Nevertheless, Hilda knew that someone was trailing her. An O Bar O -“hand” or a neighbour would have come out into the open. Whoever was -following her was keeping purposely under the shadow of the bush. Nor -could it be an Indian. Hilda knew the Stoneys well. An Indian does not -molest a white woman. - -She pondered over the purpose of the man who was following her. What -did he want? Why did he not come out into the open? Thieves and -rustlers would not have ventured as near to the ranch house as this. -Their work was upon the range. - -Hilda’s horse was now climbing down the other side of the hill slope, -directly toward the ranch. O Bar O was fenced and cross-fenced with -four wires, every field being laid out for especial stock. In a country -like Alberta, where ranching is done on a large scale, stock are seldom -penned in barn or stable. They are loose upon the range. Between each -field, antiquated barbed wire gates were kept tightly closed. These -were difficult to open. They consisted of three or four strands of -barbed wire nailed to light willow fence posts at a space of about a -foot apart. These swung clear from the ground and when closed fastened -by a loop of the wire to the stout post at the end of the fencing. They -were nasty things to open, even for the toughened hands of the cowboy. -Hilda seldom used these gates. She would go around by the paths that -opened to the main trails where were the great gates that swung from -their own weights and were made of posts ten feet long. These, however, -were not as desirable for dividing fields, since they swung too easily -and were a temptation to leave open. The old type were preferred by the -ranchers. They kept the cattle more securely separated. - -This evening, Hilda came over the hill by the shorter trail, and now -she was before the first of the wire gates. - -The days were getting shorter and already, though it was scarcely -six o’clock, the shadows were closing in deeply. The rosy skies were -dimming and the pressing shadows crept imperceptibly over the gilded -sky. - -Quite suddenly darkness fell. The trail, however, was close to the gate -and her horse knew the way. Hilda did not dismount. Leaning from her -horse, she grasped the post and tugged at the tightly wedged ring of -wire. - -Her first knowledge of the near presence of the man who had followed -her came when something thudded down at her horse’s feet. In the half -light of the fading day Hilda saw that uncoiled rope. - -The lariat! - -Now she understood and a gasp of rage escaped her. The man had -attempted to rope her. The lariat had fallen short! She, Hilda -McPherson, daughter of O Bar O, to be lariated like a head of stock! - -As she watched the rope slowly being coiled in, the sickening thought -rushed upon her that presently it would be thrown again, and that -second throw might fall true. Instantly she was off her horse, had -grasped the end of the lariat, whipped it about the gate post, tied -a tight knot, ducked under the wire of the fence, and secure in the -knowledge that her pursuer would be held back by the closed gate, -unless he dismounted and took her own means of passing through, Hilda -ran like the wind straight along the trail to O Bar O, shouting in her -clear, carrying young voice, the Indian cry: - -“Hi, yi, yi, yi, yi, yi, yi, yi, yi! Eee-yaw-aw-aw-aw-aw-aw!” - -As she called, as she ran, an answering shout came from the direction -of the ranch, still more than a mile away; but he who had answered her -call for help was even then coming over the crest of the last hill, and -the silhouette in the twilight of man and horse stopped the girl short -and sent her heart racing like a mad thing in her breast. He was riding -as only one at O Bar O could ride. Reining up sharply before Hilda, -Cheerio swiftly dismounted and was at her side. - -“Hilda! You’ve been thrown!” - -Oh, how that voice, with its unmistakable note of deep anxiety in -her behalf, made Hilda’s heart leap. Even in her excitement, she was -conscious of a strangely exultant pang at the thought that he should -have been the one to have come to her in her need. She could scarcely -speak from the excitement and terror of her recent experience, and for -the tumultuous emotions at the sight of the man she loved. - -“Over there--a man! He followed me--Oh--has been trailing me through -the woods, and at the gate--the gate--he threw the lariat--the lariat!” - -Her voice rose hysterically. - -“It missed us--just touched Daisy. I--I--tied it to the gate post. -Gate’s closed. He can’t come through on horse. Look! There he is! There -he is! See--see--white chaps! Look!” - -She was speaking in little sobbing gasps, conscious not of the fact -that she was held in the comforting curve of the man’s strong arm. - -Dimly the vanishing form of horse and man showed for an instant in the -half light and disappeared into the dense woods beyond. Cheerio made a -motion as if to remount and follow, but Hilda clung to his sleeve. - -“Oh, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. I’m--I’m--afraid to be -alone.” - -“N-not f-for worlds,” he said, “but d-d-dear--” Through all her pain -she heard that soft term of endearment, “He’s left the lariat. Couldn’t -stop to get it. Come, we’ll get it. It may furnish a clue.” - -Back at the gate, they untied the knotted lariat and Cheerio recoiled -it and attached it to his own saddle. - -“We’ll keep this as a memento. Maybe there’s a man at O Bar O short a -lariat.” - -“No man at O Bar O would do a coyote’s trick like that,” said Hilda, -faintly. - -She had recovered somewhat of her composure, though she still felt the -near influence of the man walking beside her, leading his horse with -one hand, and holding her arm with the other. Her own mount had gone -free and would not be recovered till the morning. She would not follow -his suggestion to mount his horse. - -And so they came down over the hill together. Just before they passed -into the ranch yard, Cheerio controlled his fluttering tongue and -stammered something that he had been trying to say to her all of the -way down the hill. - -“Hilda, I’m a f-f-f-fortunate d-dog. I’m jolly glad I w-w-went out to -look for you to-night.” - -“_Were_ you looking for me, then? Why?” - -“C-can’t explain it. S-something m-made me go. I had to f-find you, -Hilda.” - -Now they were at the steps of the ranch house. Hilda went up one step, -paused, went up another and stopped, unable to go further. Cheerio -leaned up and tried to see her face in the semi-light that was now -silvering the land from the broad moon above. What he saw in Hilda’s -face brought the word bursting to his lips: - -“M-my _dear_ old girl!” he said. “I’m dashed jolly glad I’m alive.” - -Hilda said in a whisper: - -“Ah, so am I!” - -And then she fled--fled in panic-stricken retreat to the house. Blindly -she found her way to her room, and cast herself down upon her bed. She -was trembling with an ecstasy that stung her by its very sweetness. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -Of all the emotions, whether sublime or ridiculous, that obsess the -victim of that curious malady of the heart which we call Love, none is -more torturing or devastating in its effect than that of jealousy with -its train of violent reactions. - -Love affected and afflicted Hilda and Cheerio in different and yet in -similar ways. - -Hilda, kneeling by her bed, her arms clasped about her pillow, into -which she had buried her hot young face, gave herself up at first to -the sheer ecstasy and glow of those first exalting, electrical thrills. -All she comprehended was that she was in love. - -Love! It was the most beautiful, the most sacred, the most precious -and the most terrible thing in all the universe. That was what -Hilda thought. Gradually her thoughts began to assemble themselves -coherently. Sitting upon the floor by her bed, Hilda brought back to -mind every incident, every word and look that had passed between her -and Cheerio that she could recall since first he had come to O Bar O. - -Who was this man she loved? What was he doing at O Bar O? Where had he -come from? Who were his people? She did not even know his name. The -very things that had aroused the derision of the men, his decently-kept -hands, the daily shave and bath, his speech, his manner, his innate -cleanliness of thought and person--these bespoke the gentleman, and -Hilda McPherson had the ranch girl’s contempt for a mere gentleman. In -the ranching country, a man was a man. That was the best that could be -said of him. - -With the thought of his past, came irresistibly back to torment her -the woman of the locket--“Nanna,” for whom he had come to Canada to -make a home. She had never been wholly absent from Hilda’s thought and -unconsciously now, as in the midst of her bliss she came back vividly -to mind, a little sob escaped her. She tried to fight the encroaching -thought of this woman’s claim. - -“Suppose he had been in love with her, I’ve cut her out! She is done -for.” - -Thus Hilda, to the unresponsive wall facing her. - -Suppose, however, they were engaged. That was a word that was followed -by marriage. This thought sent Hilda to her feet, stiff with a new -alarm. The unquiet demon of Jealousy had struck its fangs deep into -the girl’s innermost heart. She no sooner tried to recall his face as -he had looked at her in the moonlight, the warm clasp of his hand, the -term of endearment that had slipped from his lips, when the knife was -twisted again within her, and she saw the lovely face of the other -woman smiling at her from the gold locket, with her fair hair enshrined -on the opposite side. - -The recollection was intolerable--unendurable to one of Hilda’s -tempestuous nature. Suppose she should come to Alberta! Perhaps she -would not release him, even if he desired it! Suppose she should come -even to O Bar O. How would she--Hilda--bear to meet her? Her wild -imagination pictured the arrival, and Hilda began to walk her floor. -Love was now a purgatory. What was she to do? What was she to do? Hilda -asked herself this question over and over again, and then when her pain -became more than she could bear, she turned desperately to her door. At -any cost, however humiliating to her pride, she would learn the truth. -She would go directly to him. She would ask him point-blank whether -from this time on it was to be her or--Nanna! - -She had done without her dinner. She could not have eaten had she been -able to force herself to the table. Her father had called her, Sandy -had pounded upon her door. It mattered not. Hilda was deaf to all -summons, save those clamouring ones within her. - -As far as that goes, she was not the only one at O Bar O who had gone -supperless. - -Cheerio, after she had left him, remained at the foot of the steps, -just looking up at the door through which the world for him seemed to -have vanished. How long he stood thus, cannot be estimated by minutes -or seconds. Presently he sat down upon the steps, and soon was lost in -a blissful daze of abstraction. - -Above him spread the great map of the skies, at this time of year -especially beautiful, star-spotted and slashed with the long rays -of Northern lights and the night rainbows. Still and electric was -the night. Keen and fresh the air. The ranch sounds were like mellow -musical echoes. Even the clang of Chum Lee’s cow-bell, calling all -hands to the evening meal, seemed part of the all-abiding charm of that -perfect night. - -The voices of the men en route from bunkhouse to cook-car, the sharp -bark of the dog Viper, and the answering growls of the cattle dogs, the -coyote, still wailing wildly in the hills. - -Lights were low in the bunkhouse and on full in the cook-car. The -absorbing job of “feeding” was now in process. - -All these things Cheerio noted vaguely, with a gentle sort of delight -and approval. They were all part of the general beauty of life on -this remarkable ranch. He was conscious of a big, uplifting sense. He -wanted to shout across the world praise of this new land that he had -discovered; of the utter peace and joy of ranching in the foothills of -the Rocky Mountains; of the girl of girls who was more to him now than -anything else on earth. - -A wide moon was now overhead, and the country was bathed in a silvery -light. The skies were star-spotted, and alive with mystery and beauty. - -Snatches of poetry sang in his head, and for the first time since the -days when he had penned his boyish love lyrics to Sybil Chennoweth, -Cheerio indited new ones to Hilda, the girl he now loved: - - “Oh, Hilda, my darling, the sky is alive, - And all of the stars are above; - The moon in her gown of silvery sheen-- - She knows of my love--my love.” - -It mattered not to the lover whether his verses were of a high order -from a critical point of view. They were heartfelt--an expression of -what seemed surging up within him. He needed a medium through which he -might speak to Hilda. On the back of an envelope, he scratched: - - “Hilda of the dark brown eyes - And lips so ripe and red. - Hilda, of the wilful ways, - And small, proud, tossing head.” - -And so it went. But, like Hilda, the first incoherent rhapsody gave -way presently to soberer thoughts. He was inspired by a desire to -do something to prove himself worthy of the girl he loved. He was -overtaken with an appalling realization of his shortcomings. What had -he to offer Hilda? What had he done to deserve her? He was but one of -twenty or more paid “hands” on her father’s ranch. He was penniless; -nameless! - -She was no ordinary girl. That brown-eyed girl, with her independent -toss of head and her free, frank nature, he knew had the tender heart -of a mother. Cheerio had watched many a time when she knew it not. He -had seen her with the baby colts, the calves, the young live-stock of -the ranch; the hidden litter of kittens in the barn, whose existence -was so carefully hidden from her father. He had watched Hilda caring -for the sick little Indian papoose, wrapping antiseptic salve bandages -on a little boy’s sore arm, and stooping to kiss the brown face and pat -the shoulder of the little Indian mother. No wonder she was adored by -half the country-side. No wonder the Indians called her “little mother” -and friend. She was as straightforward, honest, and clean as a whistle. -She was fearless and fine as a soldier. There was about her slim, young -grace a boyish air of courage. Hilda! There never was another girl like -his in all the whole world. - -Now Cheerio felt humbled, unworthy. Followed a boyish desire to -give Hilda things. He regretted his poverty, and suffered a sense -of resentment and irritation for the first time at the thought of -the power and pride of a great family name that should by rights be -his and Hilda’s. What had he to offer her? Nothing--but the trifling -trinket, a family heirloom, in which long since he had replaced the -picture of the English girl with the one Sandy had given him of Hilda. -Automatically his hand closed about the locket. It was a fine old -antique. Hilda would appreciate it. He would show her her own and -Nanna’s face inside it. He pictured her shining eyes as she would take -the trinket from his hand. Once she had told him she possessed not -a single piece of jewellery. P. D. had denounced them as “baubles, -suitable for savages only--relics of days of barbarism. The modern -woman who pierced her ears,” said P. D. McPherson, “and hung silly -stones from them was little better than the half-naked black women who -hung jewels and rings from their noses.” - -But Hilda did not share her father’s opinion. She had spoken wistfully, -longingly, enviously. This was after reading a chapter concerning Anne -of Austria’s diamonds and D’Artagnan’s famous recovery of the same. - -Well, Hilda should have her first piece of jewellery from his hands. -The ancient Chelsmore locket. It would take the place of the ring -between them. It would be the symbol of their love. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - - -As a boy, Cheerio’s inability swiftly to explain or defend himself, -had resulted in many unjust punishments. He was not stupid, but became -easily confused, and with the best of intentions, he bungled into -unfortunate situations. His brother, Reggie, swift-witted and glib of -tongue, was far better equipped to defend and care for himself than the -often bewildered and stammering Cheerio. He had changed very little, -and his love had made him now almost obtusely blind. - -As he hurried eagerly across the verandah to meet Hilda who was -hastening in her direct way for that “show down” which her peace of -mind demanded, Cheerio held out toward her the intended gift. - -In the bright moonlight, Hilda saw the locket in his hand, and she -stopped short in her impetuous approach. Speech at that moment failed -her. She felt as if suddenly choked, struck, and her heart was beating -so riotously that it hurt her physically. A primitive surge of wild, -ungovernable rage surged up within her. - -In a far worse dilemma was the unfortunate and deluded and -misunderstood Cheerio. At that psychological moment, when he would have -given his life for eloquent speech in which to tell the girl before him -of his love, he was overtaken with panic and confusion. The hostile -attitude of the girl reduced him to a state of incoherent stuttering as -he continued foolishly to extend the locket. - -“Ww-w-w-w-w-w-w----” - -She gave him no help. Her angry, wounded stare was pinned condemningly -upon him. - -“Www-w-w-w-w-w-will you accept this l-little m-m-m-m--memento of----” - -“Accept _that_!” - -Hilda said “That” as if referring to something loathsome. - -“What should I want with _it_?” - -“It” also was spoken as “that.” - -Like a tidal wave, the girl’s anger overwhelmed her. Hell, which the -proverb assures us, hath no fury like a woman scorned, raged indeed -in the ungoverned breast of the girl of the ranching country. She was -neither equipped by nature or training with those feminine defenses -that might have shielded her. She was in a way as uncivilized as the -savage woman who beats her untrue mate. All she was fiercely conscious -of was her raging indignation at the imagined affront offered her by -Cheerio. He, who but a short time since she had been deluded enough to -believe actually loved her was now flaunting before her that hateful -locket in which she knew was the picture of the woman he had come to -Canada to make a home for. - -Her eyes were aflame. Her anger dominated her entirely. - -Crestfallen and surprised, Cheerio drew back a pace: - -“I s-say,” he persisted stupidly, “I only w-wanted you to have it. It’s -a n-nice old thing, you know, and----” - -“How dare you offer me a thing like that?” demanded Hilda, in a level, -deadly voice. “How dare you! How dare you!” - -Her voice rose. She stamped her foot. Her hands clinched. It would have -relieved her to hurt him physically. Surprised and dejected, he turned -away, but his movement whetted her anger. Her fiery words pursued him. - -“What do you take me for? Do you think I want your silly old -second-hand jewellery? Why don’t you wrap the precious thing up in -white tissue paper and send it across the sea to the woman that’s in -it?” - -At that a light of understanding broke over Cheerio. He moved -impetuously toward her: - -“Hilda, don’t you know that you--_you_ are----” - -He got no further, for at that moment a loud cough behind him -interrupted him. In their excitement neither Hilda nor Cheerio had -noted the car ascending the grade to the ranch and then circling the -path. Duncan Mallison had come up the stairs and across the verandah -and had coughed loudly before either Cheerio or Hilda were aware of his -presence. - -“Good evening, everybody,” said the newspaper man. “How’s chess?” - -Cheerio had recovered himself sufficiently to return the grip of the -other’s hand. - -“Why, hello!” - -Mallison chuckled. - -“Didn’t expect to see me back, did you? I’ll tell you just what I’m up -for. No--not after a chess story this time. Do you remember talking to -me about a job on the _Blizzard_? Well, Munns--our city editor--thinks -he can make a place for you.” - -It was the snapping closed of the door that apprised them of the -departure of Hilda. Cheerio looked at it thoughtfully, with an element -of sadness, and perhaps of new resolve. - -“Look here,” he said to his friend. “You’ve come in the n-nick of time, -I might say. Fact is, old man, I--I’d like most awfully a chance to see -to--to--demonstrate m-m-my ability--t-to do s-something worth while, -you know. C-carn’t go on being a beggar, you understand. G-got to -s-s-succeed, don’t you know.” - -Mallison did know. He grinned appreciatively. - -“Then you’ll go back with me to Calgary to-night?” - -“Can’t do that very well, old man.” - -He thought a moment, and then added brightly: - -“To-morrow morning. Put you up for to-night, and we’ll leave first -thing. You see, I’ve one more game still to do.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - - -P. D. was taking his “cat-nap” that evening in his “office,” a room -that opened off from the dining-room, where the old rancher kept his -account books and other papers connected with the running of his -business. He was enjoying a sweet sleep, in which he dreamed of three -white pawns checking a black King. The three pawns were his. The King -was Cheerio’s. Something unpleasant and having nothing to do with the -soothing picture he was enjoying, awoke him. He blinked fiercely, -cleared his throat, sat up in the big chair, and glared disapprovingly -at his daughter who had precipitated herself almost into his lap. - -“What is the meaning of this? Is it, then, 8.30?” - -“No, Dad. You’ve quarter of an hour still.” - -“Then what in thunderation do you mean by waking me for, then? Get -away! Get away! I don’t like to be pawed over in this manner.” - -“Dad, I want to talk to you about something. I--I must talk to you.” - -“When you wish to talk to me, you will choose an hour when I have the -leisure to hear you.” - -“Dad, you won’t let me speak to you through the day. You always say -you’re calculating something, and now you simply _must_ listen to me. -It’s vitally important that you should. You _must_!” - -“Must, heh?” - -“_Please_, Dad!” - -“Well, well, what is it? Speak up. Speak up.” - -He took his watch out, glanced at it, scowled, paid no attention to -what his daughter was saying until the word “chess” escaped her, when -his glance fixed her. - -“What’s that?” - -“I said if you’d only _defend_ your King instead of everlastingly -attacking, don’t you see, you’d stand a better chance. I’ve noticed on -two or three occasions that he’s left great openings where I’m sure you -could----” - -“Are you trying to teach your father the game of chess?” - -“Oh, no, Dad, but you know, two heads are better than one. I’ve heard -you say so.” - -“Two _mature_ heads----” - -“Mine’s mature. I’m eighteen, and I think----” - -“You’re not supposed to think. You’re not equipped for thinking. Women -have a constitutional brain impediment that absolutely prevents them -coherently or rationally----” - -“Dad, look here. Don’t you know that it’s November 20th? The cattle are -still on the range and everybody in the country is talking about us. -They think we’ve gone plumb crazy. And why? Just because _he_ wants to -go on and on beating you and----” - -“What’s this? What’s this? A discourse of depreciation of a prized -employee of O Bar O?” - -“Father!” Hilda seldom called her father “Father,” but she believed -herself to be in a desperate situation and desperate speech and -measures were necessary. “Father, you have simply got to beat him -to-night. You----” - -“You leave the room, miss.” - -“Dad, I----” - -“Leave the room!” roared P. D. - -“Oh, if you only knew how unhappy I am,” cried Hilda piteously. Her -father took her by the shoulders and turned her bodily out, closing the -door sharply between them, and returning to pace the floor of his own -office, and work off some of the upsetting influences which might not -be well for that calmness and poise of mind necessary for a game of -chess. - -The ranch house was a great, unwieldy building, with a wide hall -dividing on one side the enormous living-room and on the other the -dining-room, beyond which was P. D.’s office and study. - -Hilda shot out of her father’s office into the darkened dining-room, -and from there into the lighted hall, where she collided with the -entering Cheerio. On him, she turned the last vials of her wrath. - -“I’ve something to say to you. Everything on this ranch is at a -standstill on your account. If we don’t gather in our cattle soon, -there’ll be a lot of lost and dead O Bar O stock when the first -blizzard comes. I wish you’d never come here. You’ve pulled my old Dad -down, and look what you’ve done to me--look!--I’m glad you’re going -away! I don’t want ever to see your face again!” - -Even as she said the words, Hilda longed to recall them. Cheerio’s hurt -look was more than she could bear, and she fled up the stairs like one -pursued. He heard the bang of her door, and a strangely softened look -stole into his face as he turned into the living-room. - -The chess board was still set up, the men standing on the positions of -the previous night, when the game had remained unfinished at the ending -hour of ten o’clock. Cheerio cast a swift glance about him, studied the -board a moment, and then with another furtive glance, quickly changed -the position of a Black Queen and a White Pawn. His hand was scarcely -off the board when Hilda McPherson slipped from between the portieres. - -As swiftly and passionately as she had fled up the stairs, so she -had run down again, compunction overwhelming her, torn and troubled -by that look on the man’s face. But her reaction turned to amazement -and indignant scorn as she watched him at the chess board. If she had -repented her harsh treatment of him before, now, more than ever, she -ascended in judgment upon him. His glance fell guiltily before her -accusing one. Hilda seized upon the first word that came to her tongue, -regardless of its odiousness. - -“Cheat! Cheat! Now I understand how you’ve been beating my Dad! You’ve -been changing the positions. You can’t deny it! I’ve caught you -red-handed. Oh, oh! I might have guessed it. To think that for a single -moment I believed in you, and now to discover you’re not only a----” - -He flinched, almost as if physically struck, and turned white. Then his -face stiffened. His heels came together with that peculiarly little -military click that was characteristic of him when moved. His face was -masklike as he stared straight at Hilda. Something in his silence, -some element of loneliness and helplessness about this man clutched at -the stormy heart of the girl, and stopped the words upon her lips, as -her father came into the room. Hilda had the strange feeling of a wild -mother at bay. Angry with her child, she yet was ready to fight for and -defend it. All unconsciously, she had covered her lips with her hands -to crush back the hot words that were surging up to expose him to her -father. - -“What’s this? Why so much excitement? Why all this hysterical waste of -force? It carried even to my office--electrical waves of angry sound. -No doubt could be heard across at the bunkhouse or the barns. I’ll make -a test some day. Sit down, sit down. If you wish to witness our game, -oblige us with silence, if you please.” - -To Cheerio he said: - -“Be seated, sir. You will pardon the excitement of my daughter. Youth -is life’s tempestuous period--hard to govern--hard to restrain, a -pathological, problematical time of life. Be seated, sir. My move, I -believe, sir.” - -Hilda felt weak and curiously broken. She sat forward in her chair, -her eyes so dark and large that her face, no longer rosy, seemed now -peculiarly small and young. - -Old P. D. scratched his chin and pinched his lower lip as he examined -the board through his glasses. Cheerio was not looking at the board, -his sad, somewhat stern glance was pinned upon Hilda. - -There was a pause, and suddenly P. D.’s face jerked forward. A crafty -twitch of the left eyebrow. He glanced up at Cheerio, moved a Bishop -three paces to the right. Cheerio withdrew his eyes reluctantly from -the drooping Hilda, looked absently at the board and made the obvious -move. Instantly P. D.’s hand shot toward his Queen. A pause, and -then suddenly through the room, like the pop of a gun, P. D.’s shout -resounded: - -“Check!” - -Pause. - -“Check!” - -This time louder. - -“Check to your King, sir! Game! Game!” Up leaped P. D. McPherson, -sprang toward his opponent, smashed him upon the shoulder, gripped him -by both hands, and shouted: - -“Beat you! By Gad! I’d rather beat you than go to Chicago. Damn your -hands and feet, you’re a dashed damned fine player, and it’s an honour -to beat you, sir! Come along with me, sir!” - -He dragged his opponent out, and arm and arm they hurried across to -the bunkhouse to proclaim the “damnfine news” and to order all hands -of the O Bar O to set out on the following morning upon that annual -Fall round-up which had been put off for so long. But before Cheerio -had left the room, and even while her father was all but embracing him, -his glance had gone straight into the eyes of Hilda, pale as death and -slowly arising. - -Like one moving in sleep, feeling her way as she passed, Hilda -McPherson followed her father and Cheerio. But she could go no farther -than the verandah. There she sat crouched down on the steps, her -face in her hands, overwhelmed by the unbearable pain that seemed to -clutch at her heart. The truth had shocked Hilda into a realization of -the inexcusable wrong and insult that she had dealt to this man. No -words were needed. She comprehended exactly what had happened in that -room. Cheerio, she now knew, had changed the men on the board for her -father’s advantage. And she had called him a cheat! - -She took her hands down from her face, and spoke the words aloud: - -“I called him a cheat! I called him a--coward! Oh, what am I to do?” - -The man who had been sitting in the swinging couch, and whom she had -not seen, strolled across the verandah and came directly down the steps -to where the unhappy Hilda was crouched. - -“Miss McPherson! Can I do anything for you?” - -Hilda was in too much pain to feel either surprise or resentment for -the intrusion. She said piteously: - -“I called him a cheat! a coward!” - -“A coward--_him_!” - -Duncan Mallison’s face darkened with an almost angry red. - -“You may as well know this much at least,” he said roughly. “The man -you called a coward won the Victoria Cross for an act of sublime -heroism during the war.” - -Hilda stood up. She looked beaten and small. She was wrenching her -hands together as she backed toward the door. Her lips were quivering. -She tried to speak, but the words could not come, and she shook her -head dumbly. - -The reporter, who probably understood human nature far better than -the average person, was touched by the girl’s evident misery. He put -his hand under Hilda’s arm, and guided her to the door. There he said -soothingly: - -“Now, don’t worry. Everything’s all right, and you’re in luck. We’re -going to take him on the paper. Fine job. He’ll make out great. So, -don’t worry. First thing in the morning we’ll be off, and you can -depend upon me to do the best I can for him. He’s a darned good pal.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - - -Hilda awoke with a sob. She sat up in bed, pressing her hands to her -eyes. Slowly, painfully, she recalled the events of the previous night. - -She had called him a cheat--a coward! She had said that she never -wished to see his face again! She had driven him from O Bar O. He had -gone out of her life now forever. - -Hilda could see the dim light of the approaching dawn already tinting -the wide eastern sky. It was a chill, raw morning. He would walk out -from O Bar O, with his old, battered grip in his hand and that gray -suit that had so edified the ranch hands. Her breast rose and swelled. -The tears of the previous night threatened to overwhelm her again. -Hilda had literally cried practically all of the night, and her hour’s -sleep had come only through sheer exhaustion. - -The unhappy girl crept out of bed and knelt by the window, peering out -in the first grey gloom of the Autumn morning, toward the bunkhouse. -She fancied she saw something moving in that direction, but the light -was dim, and she could not be sure. - -It was cold and damp as she knelt on the floor. No matter. He would be -cold and chilled, too, and she had driven him from O Bar O! - -A light gleamed now in the dusk over at the saddle rooms. A glance -at her watch showed it was not yet six o’clock. He would make an -early start, probably leaving before the men started off on the -round-up--they were to leave for the range at seven that morning. - -Without quite realizing what she was doing, Hilda dressed swiftly. -The cold water on her tear-blistered face soothed and cooled it. She -wrapped a cape about herself, put on a knitted tam. - -The halls were dark, but she dared not turn on the electric lights, -lest she should awaken Sandy or her father. Feeling her way along the -wall, she found the stairs, and clinging to the bannister went quickly -down. A moment to seek the door knob, and swing the big door open. At -last she was out of the house. - -The cold air smote and revived her. It gave her courage and strength. - -The darkness was slowly lifting, and all over the sky the silvery waves -of morning were now spreading. Hilda sped like a fawn across the barn -yard, through the corrals and directly to the saddle room, from whence -came the light. The upper part of the door was open, and Hilda pushed -the lower part and stepped inside. - -A man in white chaps was bending over a saddle to which he was -attaching a lariat rope. As the lower door slammed shut behind Hilda, -he started like an overtaken thief, and jumped around. Hilda saw his -face. It was Holy Smoke. - -All at once Hilda McPherson knew that before her stood the man who had -tried to lariat her in the woods. She stared at him now in a sort of -fascinated horror. A cunning look of surprised delight was creeping -over the man’s face. Hilda put her hand behind her and backed for the -door. At the same time, once again she raised her voice, and sent forth -that loud cry of alarm: - -“Hi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-iiiii-i-i-i-i!” - -The cry was choked midway. She was held in a strangling hold, the big -hand of the cowpuncher gripped upon her throat. - -“There’ll be none of the Hi-yi-ing for you to-day! If you make another -peep, I’ll choke you to death! I’m quittin’ O Bar O for good and all -to-day, but before I go you and me has got an account to settle.” - -She fought desperately, with all her splendid young strength, -scratching, kicking, biting, beating with her fists like a wild thing -at bay, and, with the first release as he staggered back, when her -sharp teeth dug into his hands, again she raised her voice; but this -time her cry was stopped by the brutal blow of the man’s fist. She -clutched at the wall behind her. The earth seemed to rock and sway -and for the first time in all her healthy young life, Hilda McPherson -fainted. - -She lay on a sheepskin, a man’s coat beneath her head. Chum Lee knelt -beside her, cup in hand. She swallowed with difficulty, for her throat -pained her and she still felt the grip of those terrible fingers. -Hilda moaned and moved her head from side to side. The Chinaman said -cheerfully: - -“All lightee now, Miss Hilda. Chum Lee flix ’im fine. Slut ’im. Bang -’im. Slut ’im up till Mr. Cheerio come. Big fight!” Chum Lee’s eyes -gleamed. “All same Holy Smoke bad man. Take ’im gun. Banfi! Sloot Mr. -Cheerio. Velly good, now lide on lail.” - -Hilda understood only that Holy Smoke had shot Cheerio. - -She clutched the Chinaman’s arm, and forced herself to her feet. -Pushing Chum Lee aside, Hilda made her way from the saddle shed, where -they had laid her. - -Outside, the sharp cold air of the Fall morning was like a dash of -bitter water and brought its revivifying effect. Hilda turned in the -direction of the voice she now heard clearly, for sound carries far -in a country like Alberta, and although Hilda could clearly hear the -voices of the men, they were in fact more than a mile from the ranch. -She was obsessed with the idea that Cheerio had been killed and that -her men had taken his murderer into the woods and were hanging him. -Oh! she wanted a hand in that hanging. Everything primitive and wild -in her nature surged now into being, as she made her way blindly down -that incredibly long hill and ran stumblingly through the pasture lands -to where the group of men were about some strange object that was tied -and bound half sitting on a rail. Then Hilda understood, and waves of -unholy joy swept over her in a flood. They were tarring and feathering -Holy Smoke! - -Above the deafening roar of the cheering shouting voices, presently -rose the clear call of the one she knew. No fluttering, stammering -tongue now. The voice of a captain, a leader among men: - -“One, two, three! In she goes!” - -The rail was swung back and forth, and at that “Three,” with a roar -from twenty or thirty throats, it was released from the hands gripping -it at either end and plunged into the muddy water of the shallow -slough. It described a somersault. Head downward went the man they had -tarred and feathered. The rail jerked over, and the head of Holy Smoke -arose out of the water, a grotesque paste of mud and tar covering it -completely. Loud shouts of glee arose from the men. They jeered and -yelled to the struggling wretch in the water. - -From the direction of the ranch, came the sound of the loud clanking -breakfast bell of Chum Lee. In high good humour, with appetites whetted -and vengeance satisfied, the men of O Bar O retraced their steps toward -the ranch, prepared for that hearty breakfast which should stiffen them -against the invigorating work of at last rounding up. - -Cheerio alone remained by the slough, and Hilda, watching him from the -little clump of bush, witnessed a strange and merciful act on his part; -the sort of thing a man of Cheerio’s type was accustomed to do at the -front, when an enemy, hors de combat, needed final succour. Cheerio -thrust two long logs into the mud of the slough, very much as he had -done when he had rescued the heifer in the woods. Now also he went out -across the logs and cut the ropes that bound the man to the rail. Holy -Smoke grasped after the logs, clung to them desperately, and Cheerio -gave his stiff order to him to get off the place as expeditiously as -possible if he valued his hide. - -Having set the man free, Cheerio returned to the bank, stopped to clean -the mud off his boots with a handy stick and then moved to follow after -the men, now at a considerable distance. - -Hilda, her blue and red cape flapping back from her as she came from -the little bush toward him, was holding out both her hands, but as -Cheerio stopped short they dropped helplessly at her side. His grave -eyes slowly travelled over the piteous little figure in his path. The -eyes that had been so stern now softened, but Cheerio could not speak -at that moment. Something rose in his throat and held him spellbound, -looking at the girl he loved and whom he had expected never to see -again. Hilda’s eyes were unnaturally wide and dark; her lips were as -tremulous as a flower and quivering like those of a hurt child. The -flag of hostility and hate was down forever. She was pathetic and most -lovely in her humility. - -Cheerio murmured something unintelligible and held out his arms to her. -Hilda would have gone indeed directly to that haven; but there was -Sandy racing along the trail on Silver Heels, shouting like an Indian -excited queries and shrilly demanding to know why he had been “left out -of the fun.” Nevertheless, Cheerio had sensed the unconscious motion -of the girl, and a light broke over his face, driving away the last -shadow. His wide, boyish smile beamed down upon her. Speech failed him -not at that blessed moment. - -“_Darling!_” said Cheerio, in such a voice that Hilda thought the word -an even more beautiful one than the “Dear” he had once before called -her. - -“Hi, Hilday! What’s all the racket about? What they done to Ho? Where -is he? Dad’s goin’ to kill ’em. He’s gone plumb crazy at the house. -Chum Lee come on in an tol’ ’im that he beat you up. Is that true?” - -Cheerio answered for her. - -“He’s a bad lot, Sandy, and he’s got his deserts.” His eyes were still -on Hilda. It didn’t seem possible that he could withdraw them. Over -her pale cheeks a glow was coming like the dawn, and her shy glance -trembled toward his own. - -“My! Dad’s hoppin’ mad. Ses hangin’ ain’t too good for him, the dirty -dog, an I say it too! What’d he do to you? What was you doin’ in the -barn at that hour?” - -Hilda shook her head. Her eyes were shining so that even Sandy was -nonplussed. - -“You don’t _look_ beaten up,” said her brother, and Hilda laughed and -then unexpectedly her eyes filled with tears and she sobbed. - -“Gee! I wish someone’d waked me up. Doggone it, I don’t see why I was -left out. Wish I’d caught him hittin’ my sister! Dad’s nearly crazy. -You better hustle along home, Hilda. You’d think you were the only -person at O Bar O now to hear Dad talk. He’s thinkin’ up every mean -thing he ever said to you and he’s cryin’ like a baby.” - -“Poor old Dad!” said Hilda, softly. - -A movement on the edge of the slough now attracted the incredulous -eyes of Sandy McPherson. He was shuffling into the clothes left for -him on the bank. Instantly Sandy had reined up beside him. He yelled -insults and epithets down at the shivering wretch on the bank, stuck -his fingers into his mouth and produced a hooting whistle; then Sandy -played at lariating the man, but Ho, with a venomous look, grasped the -rope as it fell in a ring near him, and there was a tug of war for its -possession between man and boy. Sandy let go the rope and concentrated -upon the nine foot long bull whip in his other hand. Yelling to the -man to move along swiftly and to get “to hello” off O Bar O, Hilda’s -brother pursued her assailant. - -Meanwhile, Hilda and Cheerio seized the opportunity to continue that -interrupted duologue. He said suddenly, after a rapt moment: - -“Hilda, you don’t hate me then, do you, dear?” - -In a little voice, Hilda said: - -“No.” - -“And you d-don’t want me to go away, do you?” - -Hilda shook her head, too moved for more speech, but her eyes brimmed -at the mere thought of his going. That was too much for Cheerio, and -regardless of Sandy, he took Hilda’s hand. - -“Then I’ll stay,” he said, softly. - -Hand in hand, they were moving homeward, walking in an entranced -silence, the glow of the early morning drawing them under its golden -spell; but before Sandy had joined them, all that they had yearned to -say and hear was spoken. - -“Hilda! I love you!” - -“Oh, do you? Then--then--that Nanna--” - -“Nanna is seventy-four. My old nurse, Hilda. When I returned -from--Germany--I was a prisoner there nine months, Hilda--Nanna was -the only one at home who knew me. You see--you see--it was better that -they shouldn’t know me. M-m-my brother was in my place. And you see, -Hilda, I c-came out here, and N-Nanna planned to f-follow me. She is -seventy-four.” - -“Seventy-four! Oh, I thought--I thought--that picture in the locket----” - -“That was Sybil--now my brother’s wife.” - -Wonderful things were happening to Hilda. She wanted to laugh; she -wanted to cry, and the pink cheek wavered from him, and then came to -rest against his rough sleeve. Cheerio never even glanced back to see -if Sandy were at hand. He placed his arm completely and competently -around Hilda’s waist. Their lips were very close. This time it was -Hilda who whispered the words, and Cheerio bent so close to hear them -that his lips came upon her own. - -“Oh, I loved you all the time!” said Hilda McPherson. - -At this juncture, they stopped walking, for one may not kiss as -satisfactorily while moving along. - -When Hilda regained her power of speech, she said: - -“I’m never going to say another unkind thing to you.” - -“You can say anything you want, sweetheart,” said Cheerio. “Whatever -you say will sound just right to me--dearest old girl.” - -It occurred to Hilda that he possessed a most wonderful and extensive -vocabulary. She had never heard such terms before, and when she had -read them Hilda had felt embarrassed, and in her rough way had thought: -“Oh, slush!” - -But somehow the words had an almost lyrical sound when uttered by the -infatuated Cheerio. - -They were brought back to life by the yipping, jeering Sandy. - -“Gee! I believe you two’s struck on each other!” - -He reined up beside them and examined the telltale faces with all a -boy’s cunning and disgusted amusement. - -“Say, are you goin’ to git married?” - -“You better believe we are!” laughed Cheerio, falling easily into the -slang of the country. - -“Holy Salmon! Well, there’s no accountin’ for tastes,” said Hilda’s -young brother, with disparagement. Then resignedly: “But, I betchu -Dad’ll be tickled. He’ll have a life partner for chess. Gee! Here’s -where I escape!” - -He kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and with the grace and -agility of a circus rider, with neither saddle nor bridle merely a -halter--Sandy was off. He turned bodily around in his seat on the -running horse’s back to yell back at them as he rode, hand to mouth: - -“Aw, cut out the spoons! I’m going to hustle home and break the news to -fa-ather! Let ’er go, bronc! Let ’er fly! Let ’er fly!” - -They smiled after the vanishing boy, smiled into each other’s faces and -smiled at the sunshine and the gilded hills, now shining in the full -light of the marvellous Alberta sun. After a moment, shyly, despite the -fact that she was held closely to him: - -“What’s your real name?” - -“Edward Eaton Charlesmore of Macclesfield and Coventry.” - -“You’re making fun of me.” - -“N-no, I’m not, darling. That’s my real name.” - -Hilda smiled delightedly. - -“But what do they call you?” - -He laughed, squeezed her tightly, kissed her and then kissed her again. - -“Cheerio!” he said. - -“But that’s not a real name!” - -“It’s good enough for me. You gave me it, you know.” - -“And--and are you really a duke or something like that?” - -Again he laughed. - -“You bet I am.” - -Her face fell. She regretted his high estate. Cheerio put his lips -against her small pink ear, and he kissed it before he whispered what -he said was a great secret: - -“Hilda, I’ll tell you who I am: Cheerio, Duke of the O Bar O, and -you’re the darling Duchess!” - -“That’s Jake!” said Hilda. - - -THE END - - - -Transcriber’s Note: - -Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Table of Contents -added by the transcriber. - -Known changes have been made as follows: - - Page 18 - the horney one changed to - the horny one - - Page 41 - many a gymkhanna, rodeo changed to - many a gymkhana, rodeo - - Page 88 - there’s a gymkhanna over changed to - there’s a gymkhana over - - Page 100 - At the sight of Cheerio. Hilda changed to - At the sight of Cheerio, Hilda - - Page 115 - You know Hilda. Gee! changed to - You know Hilda. Gee!” - - Page 118 - of first rider. but changed to - of first rider, but - - Page 139 - rasing her head changed to - raising her head - - Page 185 - the gymkhanna at Grand Valley changed to - the gymkhana at Grand Valley - - Page 210 - Cheerio, an employe of changed to - Cheerio, an employee of - - Page 214 - the depised locket changed to - the despised locket - - Page 215 - a quizz concerning changed to - a quiz concerning - - Page 223 - humourously or pacifically changed to - humorously or pacifically - - Page 227 - “Miss Hilda” began changed to - “Miss Hilda,” began - - Page 234 - this aint’ no changed to - this ain’t no - - Page 271 - afraid to be alone” changed to - afraid to be alone.” - - Page 295 - Now I understnd changed to - Now I understand - - Page 296 - if you please. changed to - if you please.” - - Page 317 - you know. changed to - you know.” - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS ROYAL NIBS *** - -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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