THE FORFEIT

by

RIDGWELL CULLUM

Author of"The Night Riders, " "The Way of The Strong, " "The Trail of The Axe, "Etc. 

A. L. Burt CompanyPublishers ------ New YorkPublished by arrangement with George W. Jacobs & CompanyCopyright, 1917, byGeorge W. Jacobs & CompanyAll rights reserved

CONTENTS

 I. AT RAINBOW HILL VALLEY II. CONFLICTING CURRENTS III. TRAILING THE "BLACK TAIL" IV. THE WEAKER VESSEL V. THE HANGING BEE VI. THE RAIDERS RAIDED VII. OUTLAND JUSTICE VIII. JEFF CLOSES THE BOOK IX. FOUR YEARS LATER X. THE POLO CLUB RACES XI. ELVINE VAN BLOOREN XII. THE TEMPERING XIII. THE NEWS XIV. THE KNOCKING ON THE DOOR XV. THE HOME-COMING XVI. THE RANCHMAN XVII. THE CALL TO ORRVILLE XVIII. DUG MCFARLANE XIX. THE RETURN HOME XX. AT BUD'S XXI. THE BARRIER XXII. THREATENINGS XXIII. THE HEARTS OF TWO WOMEN XXIV. TO SPRUCE CROSSING XXV. AN EPIC BATTLE XXVI. UNDER THE VEIL XXVII. THE ROUND-UP

THE FORFEIT

CHAPTER I

AT RAINBOW HILL VALLEY

A companionable silence prevailed in the room. At intervals it wasbroken, but only by the rustle of paper or the striking of a match. The heavy breathing, almost amounting to a snore, of one of the twomen, and the inarticulate protests of a laboring "rocker" chair--thesethings were only a part of it. 

The man at the table was deeply immersed in a miniature sea ofcalculations. His fair brows were drawn in deep concentration. Frequently he was at great pains to relight a pipe which containednothing but charred remnants of tobacco and a moist, unsmokable mixturewhich afforded only a somewhat offensive taste and aroma. 

The partner in this companionship overflowed an undersized "rocker, "which withstood, with supreme heroism, the overwhelming forces of itsinvader. But its sufferings, under the rhythmic rise and fall imposedupon it, found expression at intervals, although they failed to inspirethe least sympathy. The heedless giant's whole attention seemed to beabsorbed in the personality and effort of his friend. 

Finally the latter raised a pair of deep blue eyes. Following upon asigh, he thrust his papers aside with a brusque movement of relief. Then he raised a hand to his broad forehead and smoothed his disheveledfair hair, which seemed to have undergone some upheaval as a result ofthe mental disturbance his efforts had inspired in the brain beneath. The handsome eyes smiled a reassuring smile into the rugged face of hisfriend. 

"Well?" he enquired, without seeming to desire a reply. 

"Wal?" echoed the gruff voice of the man in the rocker. 

"It's done. "

"So--I guessed. "

The patient amusement in the twinkling eyes of the man in the rockerwas good to see. There was confidence, too, in his regard of theyounger man. 

"Can we do it--sure?" he enquired, as the other remained silent. 

"Without a worry. "

"Then dope it out, boy. The easiest thing in the world is handin' outdollars on a right enterprise. I don't know nothin' better--except itis takin' 'em in on the same sort o' play. "

Jeffrey Masters smiled more broadly into his friend's good-humored face. 

"Five years back, handing out twenty thousand dollars would have givenus a nightmare, even on a right proposition, " he said. "It isn't thatway now. Guess we'll sleep on this thing like new-born babes with ourtanks filled right. Nat Williams is out to sell quick, and if we'rebright, it's up to us to buy quick. For twenty thousand dollars, " heproceeded, referring to his figures, "we get his house, barns, corrals, and all his rolling stock. His growing crops and machinery. The bunchof old cows and calves he's pleased to call his 'herds. ' Also threeteams of Shire-bred heavy draft horses, and six hundred and forty acresof first-class wheat land and grazing that only needs capital andhustle to set right on top. I don't guess it'll worry us any to handit all it needs that way. This buy will join up my 'O----' territorywith your 'T. T. ' grazing, and will turn the combination into one of thefinest ranching propositions west of Calthorpe, and one which evenMontana needs to be proud of. "

He leaned back in his chair with a certain air of satisfaction. Butthere was just a shade of anxiety, too, in the glance with which hefavored his friend. However, he need have felt no misgivings. BudTristram had none. He understood the keen business brain underlyinghis friend's tumbled fair hair. Moreover, Jeff, who was only half theolder man's age, was regarded with something like parental affection. 

They had fought their way up together from obscure beginnings to theirpresent affluence, as the owners of the "T. T. " ranch and the "O----"ranch respectively. They had been partners in all but name. Now theycontemplated a definite deed of that nature. It was a consummationwhich the older man had looked forward to ever since he first lent ahand to his new and youthful neighbor. It was a consummation whichJeffrey, with acute foresight and honest purpose, had set himself toachieve. If the older man regarded him with almost parental affection, that regard was fully reciprocated. The business conference betweenthem had for its purpose their mutual advantage, and both men wereperfectly aware of the fact. 

But the thought that slightly worried the younger man was the ease, theunconcern of his future partner's attitude. It disquieted him becauseit increased his responsibility. But long ago he had learned thegenerous nature of the Great Bud. Long ago he had realized histrusting simplicity. Now he would have preferred a keencross-examination of his statement. But none was forthcoming, and hewas forced to continue in face of the silent acceptance. 

"Bud, old friend, I wish I could get you interested in--figures. And Iguess they surely are interesting, when you apply them to our ownconcerns. "

But Bud remained unmoved. He stretched himself in an ecstasy of ease, raising his great arms above his grizzled head in profound enjoyment ofhis bodily comfort. 

He shook his head. 

"Guess I know a steer. Guess I know grass when I see it. I wouldn'tsay there's a brand in Montana I ain't familiar with. Butfiggers--sums--they're hell. An' I don't guess I'm yearning for hellanyway. Figgers is a sort o' paradise to you. You're built that way. Say, I don't calc'late to rob you of a thing--not even paradise. We'lltake your figgers as they stand. "

Jeffrey Masters shook his head. 

"They're right, sure. But it's no sort of way to talk business. "

"Business talk always makes me sweat. "

It was quite impossible. Jeffrey was growing impatient. A frownsettled upon his broad brow, and the man in the rocker watched it withamused eyes. 

Quite suddenly the younger man's impatience broke forth into verbalprotest. 

"Say, you make me mad. Was there ever such a feller looking for sharpsto play him? How do you know I'm not out to beat you? Why, I couldroll you for every dollar you possess without lying awake five minutesat night. It's not fair, Bud. It's not fair to me--to you--to yourlittle Nan----"

"What's not fair to Nan?"

Bud's twinkling eyes shot round upon the open French window with analertness scarcely to be expected in a man of such apparent mentalindolence. Jeffrey's eyes cleared of their hot impatience as theysought a similar direction. The gaze of both men encountered thepicture of a brown-eyed, brown-haired girl of exquisite proportions, standing framed in the open window. She was clad in a riding suit oflight material, with a long-skirted coat which obviously concealed thedivided skirt beneath. Her long, brown top boots were white with dustof the trail, and her vicious-looking Mexican spurs hung loosely uponher heels. Her eyes were bright with intelligence and good humor, andher pretty oval face smiled out from under the wide brim of an ampleprairie hat. 

Jeff began to laugh. 

"It's your crazy old father, Nan, " he cried. "Say, just look at him. Feast your eyes on him. Can you beat it? Here we are right up to ournecks in an epoch-making business proposition and he don't concernhimself two whoops. Was there ever such a bunch of simple trustingfolly as is rolled up in that six feet three of good-hearted honesty?_That's_ what's not fair to--Nan. "

The girl came and laid a protecting hand upon the flannel-cladshoulders of her father. Just for a moment her laughing eyes gazedaffectionately down upon the recumbent form of the only parent shepossessed, and whom she idolized. He was stretched out luxuriously, his great be-chapped legs reaching to the table leg as a support tohold the rocker at a comfortable poise. His shirt sleeves were rolledup displaying a pair of arms like legs of mutton. The beadworkwristlets were held fixed in their position by the distended musclesbeneath them. She was proud of him, this father who went through theworld trusting human nature, and handling cattle as only an artist inhis profession can handle them. 

Then her dancing eyes sought the face of Jeffrey Masters. Her smileremained, but a subtle something crept into their depths as shesurveyed it. It was the handsome, clean-cut face of a purposeful man. There was a straight-forward directness in the gaze of his blue eyes. It was the face of a man who has no fear, physical or moral. It wasalmost too uncompromising in its fearlessness. 

Nan knew its every line by heart. She had thought of it, dreamed ofit, since the time when she had first realized that a woman's life iswholly incomplete without the care of a man upon her hands. Sometimesshe had felt that Jeffrey Masters possessed depths which could never befathomed. Depths of strength, of resource, and all those qualitieswhich make for success. Sometimes she even went further, when heranalytical faculties--which she possessed in an unusual degree--weremost active. She felt that the possession of all these firm qualitieshad rather smothered, to an extent, the gentler emotions of the humannature in him. He was strong, passionate, with a conscience of analmost puritanical order, and somehow she felt that a little softening, a little leavening of human weakness would have been all to the good. But this understanding made no difference to her woman's regard, unlessit were to strengthen it to a sort of gentle worship such as woman isalways ready to yield to strength. It required no effort upon her partto picture this man in the heroic mould of a Spartan warrior. 

"'_That_, '" she replied, with a whimsical smile, "is a man, who mostgenerally seems to fancy his own way of doing things. " Then she shookher head as her arm slipped protectingly around the big man's bronzedneck. "I don't guess a woman's argument ever made a man see thingsdifferent yet. What's he done, Jeff?"

Jeff laughed without humor. 

"Done?" he exclaimed. Then, with a shake of the head: "It's not whathe's done. Guess it's what he hasn't done, and what he don't seem tofigure to do. I'd kind of raised a hope when I saw you in the window. But--well, it was only her father's daughter that came in, I guess. "

Then he drew his papers toward him again, and glanced seriously at thefigures. 

"It's Nat's farm, " he explained. "And it's the thing we've beenwaiting on years. We're getting it fixed right, and your Bud's justabout as much help as a deaf mute at a talking bee. I hand himfiggers, and--and he smiles, just smiles. I hand him facts, and--hekeeps on smiling. It's the kind of smile you most generally see on adog-tired feller's face when you hand him a funny story. He don't carea cuss anyway. He's figuring to hand Nat ten thousand dollars with nomore kick than a government spending public money. He don't kickreasonably or unreasonably, and I'd gamble you a new hat he hasn't anotion what he's getting for it. It makes me feel like a 'hold-up, 'and I say it's not fair to me--nor to himself--nor to--you. "

Jeff was serious enough. In such affairs it would have been difficultto find him otherwise. Nan understood. These two men had long beenher profound study. Her smiling regard remained unchanging while theman was talking. When he ceased she bent over her father in acaressing fashion. 

"He'd lose his bet. He surely would, daddy dear, wouldn't he? But wereally need to answer, don't we? He'd think we were both fools, else. He wouldn't like it either. Say, daddy, shall--shall I talk?"

Bud chuckled comfortably. 

"I'd hate to stop you, Nan. "

Nan smiled contentedly, and raised a pair of challenging eyes in thedirection of the table. 

"My daddy thinks I talk too much, " she said. "But I s'pose that's myway--most girls talk when they get the chance--just the same as it'shis way talking too little. But neither ways suggest a fool, Jeff. And anyway the only sort of fool you need to worry with is the fool whodon't see and act in a way of his own. My daddy's acting in his ownway, and I guess it isn't his way, working overtime with the bandplaying. If you're dead fixed on having a gamble, it's a new hat to anew and less smelly pipe than you're smoking now, that he knows theinside of this deal to the last cent's worth. But what's more, Jeff, he knows you, and knows you couldn't 'hold-up' a Sunday-school kiddiewithout going and telling its teacher first. And now the mail. "

She left her father's side and moved to the table, a very picture ofgentle decision and practice. 

"Three for you, my daddy, " she cried, dropping three letters on hischest, where his shirt gaped just below his neck. Then she turnedabout. "Only one for you, honest Jeff. Just one, and I've guessed atthe writing till I'm sick. "

Jeff was smiling up with frank amusement. 

"Say, that's great. It's got you beat. Well, " he added, as he pickedup the letter, "I'll just keep you right on guessing. Where's yours?"

The girl laughed merrily. 

"Had mine. I don't guess any right-acting girl would sit easy in thesaddle twelve miles without reading her mail. Say----" she paused. The smile had died out of her eyes. Jeff's expression had abruptlychanged. He was regarding the address on his envelope with startledseriousness. Then she went on quickly: "Guess I'll wait till you'reboth through. I'll get right out an' off-saddle. Then for supper. "

In the parlor the silence remained unbroken. It became undulyprolonged. Bud finished his mail. Jeff was still reading his. It wasnot a long letter. He had already read it twice through. Now he againturned back to its beginning. 

Bud observed him closely. He saw the knitted brows. The curious setof the man's lips. His absorbed interest. Nor did he interrupt. Hecontented himself with that patient waiting which betrayed much of thesolid strength of his character. 

Presently Jeff looked up. But his eyes did not seek his friend. Theywere turned upon the open window, his gaze wandering out toward thedistant hills, which marked the confines of Rainbow Hill Valley. 

Still the other refrained from speech. Finally it was Jeff, himself, who broke the silence. 

"Bud, " he began, without withdrawing his gaze from the scene beyond thewindow, "it's a letter from Ronald. It's the second word I've had ofhim in--five years. "

Bud nodded. 

"The twin. "

Jeff's gaze came slowly, thoughtfully back to Bud's face. 

"Sure. We're twins. "

An unusual softness crept into the eyes of the man at the table. 

"I'm kind of wondering, Bud, " he went on presently, "wondering if youget all that means--means to me. I don't know. " He passed a handslowly across his brow, as though to brush aside growing perplexities. "I don't seem to get all it means myself. No, I don't. The wholething's so queer, " he went on, with a nervous, restless movement in hischair. "It sort of seems crazy, too. " He laughed meaninglessly. Thenhe suddenly leaned forward with flushed cheeks and hot eyes. "Bud, don't think me crazy, but--well, say, I'm only part of me without Ronnynear. Oh, I don't guess that explains. But it's what I feel--and Ican't just talk it right. You don't get it? No, of course you don't. I can see it in your eyes. You think I'm right for the foolish-house. Listen. Is it possible--is it ordinary reason that when twins areborn, the nature of one normal child can be divided between the two, one having what the other feller lacks? There, that's how I feel aboutit. It's the way it is with Ronny and me. All that he is not, I am. I haven't one of his better features. Say, Bud, I'm a pretty cold sortof man. I'd have made a fair sort of Puritan if I'd been on earth acentury or so ago. I've little enough humor. I don't care for play. I don't care for half the fun most folks see in life. I'd sooner workthan eat. And Ronny--well, Ronny isn't just any of those things. He'sjust a boy, full of every sort of human notion that's opposite to mine. And I'm crazy for him. Say, Bud, I love him better than anything inlife. If anything happened to that boy, why, I guess all that's worthwhile in me would die plumb out. "

He paused. Bud's shrewd eyes remained studying the emotion-litfeatures of this usually unemotional man. He felt he was beingadmitted to a peep at a soul that was rarely, if ever, bared, and hewondered at the reason. Was it a calculated display, or was it theoutlet for an emotion altogether too strong for the man's restraint?He inclined to the former belief. 

"Nothin' _has_ happened?" he enquired presently, in his direct fashion. 

Jeff laughed without any visible sign of lightness. 

"No, " he said. Then with a deep sigh. "Thank God nothing hashappened. But----"

"Then the trouble----?"

"The trouble? Say, Bud, try to get it all as I see it. It'sdifficult. The boy's away up trapping and shooting--for aliving--somewhere in the Cathills. He's away there living on hard pan, while I'm here steadily traipsing on with you to a big pile. Rememberhe's my other--half. Do you know how I feel? No, you can't. Say, he's as merry as I am--dour. He's as fond of life, and play, and thegood things of the world as I'm indifferent to 'em. He'sreckless--he's _weak_. " Suddenly Jeff's eyes lit. A great passionseemed to surge through his whole body. "Bud, I want him here. I wantto be always around to help him when he gets bumping into potholes. It's that weakness that sets me crazy when I think. He ain't made forthe dreary grind of the life we live. That's why he cut it out when Icame here. Well there's no grind for him now, and I want to have himcome along and share in with me. That's why I'm talking now. Fromthis moment on we're a great proposition in the ranching world, and Iwant Ronny to share in with me. "

Bud nodded. 

"I get it, " he said. Then he added: "You're a great feller. "

"Great! Cut it out, Bud, " Jeff cried sharply. "It's my love for thatother half of me that's talking. That merry bit of a--twin. "

"An' you're sendin' for him?"

Jeff shrugged, and depression seemed suddenly to descend upon him. 

"If I could fix it that way I don't guess I'd have opened my face tohand you all this. But I can't. He's in the Cathills, away a hundredand more miles northwest of us. That's all he says. He don't give amail address. No, Bud, I'm going to hunt him out. I'm going to findhim, and bring him back. I'll find him sure. We're just one mind an'one body, an', " he added thoughtfully, "I don't guess I'll need adetective bureau to locate him. If he was chasin' around the other endof the world I'd find him--sure. You see, he's the other half of me. "

Bud nodded in sympathy, but made no verbal reply. 

"See, Bud, " Jeff went on, a moment later. "The spring round-up'sthrough. We're going to fix this deed right away. When the attorneyshave robbed us all they need, and Nat's handed over, there'll be a goodmonth to haying. That month I'm going to spend in the Cathills. I'llbe back for the hay. "

The other eased himself in his rocker. Then for some moments no soundbroke the silence of the room. 

"It's been a heavy spring, " Bud said at last. 

Jeff nodded. His thoughts were away in the Cathills. 

"Seems to me, " Bud went on. "Work kind o' worries me some thesetimes. " He smiled. "Guess the wheels need the dope of leisure. MebbeI ain't as young as you. "

"No. "

Jeff's attention was still wandering. 

"Guess the Cathills is an a'mighty big piece o' country gropin' aroundin, " Bud went on. 

"Sure. A hell of a piece. But--it don't signify. "

"No-o, " Bud meditated. Then he added: "I was kind o' thinkin'. "

"How?"

"Why, mebbe two folks chasin' up a pin in a bunch o' grass is li'ble tohalve most o' the chances agin either of 'em jabbin' their hands on thebusiness end of it. "

"Two? You mean you're goin' to come along an' help find--Ronny?"

Jeff's eyes were expressing the thanks his lips withheld. 

Bud excused himself. 

"Them Cathills is plumb full of fur an' things. Say, I ain't handled agun in weeks. "

"Bud, you're----"

The door of the room was abruptly flung open and Jeff's words remainedunspoken. 

"Supper, folks!"

Nan's smiling eyes glanced from one to the other. She stood in thedoorway compelling them. Besides, the memory of Jeff's letter wasstill with her, and she was anxious to observe its later effect. Thatwhich she now beheld was obviously satisfactory, and her smile deepenedcontentedly. 

CHAPTER II

CONFLICTING CURRENTS

They were busy days in Orrville. But business rarely yielded outwarddisplay in its citizens. Men talked more. They perhaps moved aboutmore--in their customary leisurely fashion. But any approach to bustlewas as foreign to the rule of the township as it would be to a colonyof aged snails in a cyclone. 

It was the custom of Orrville to rise early and go to bed late. Butthis by no means implies any excessive activity. On the contrary. These spells of activity lasted just as long as their accomplishmentrequired. In the interim its citizens returned to a slumber littleless profound than that which supervened at night after the lastroysterer had been ejected, by force, or persuasion, from thesalubrious precincts of Ju Penrose's saloon. 

Orrville was a ranching township in the northwestern corner of Montanalying roughly some twenty miles west of the foothills of the CathillMountains, which, in turn, formed a projecting spur of the main rangeof the Rockies. 

Orrville was the township and Ju Penrose was the pioneer of itscommerce. He was a man of keen instincts for commerce of his ownespecial brand, and rejoiced in a disreputable past. He possessed athin, hooked nose of some dimensions, which never failed to cut a wayfor its owner into the shady secrets of his neighbors. He possessed atemper as amiable and mild as a spring lamb when the stream ofprosperity and profit flowed his way, and as vitriolic as a she-wolf inwinter, when that stream chanced to become diverted into a neighbor'sdirection. 

He was considered a man of some importance in the place. But this wasprobably the result of the nature of his trade, which, in the eyes ofthe denizens of the neighborhood, certainly possessed an advantage oversuch stodgy callings as "dry goods. " But besides the all-importantthirst-quenching purpose of his establishment, it had become a sort ofbureau for large and small transactions of a ranching nature, and aresort where every sort of card game could be freely indulged in, without regard for the limit of the stakes, and had thus gained foritself the subsidiary title amongst its clientele of "Ju's Poker Joint. "

At the moment Ju's usually busy tongue was taking a well-earned rest, and his hawk-like visage was shrouded in a deep, contemplative repose. His always bloodshot eyes were speculative as he surveyed thesmoke-laden scene from behind his shabby bar. The place was full ofdrinkers and gamblers. The hour was past midnight. And he wasestimating silently the further spending possibilities of hiscustomers, and consequently considering the advisability of closingdown. 

A group of three ranch hands leaned against the centre of the bar. Their glasses were empty and none of them seemed anxious to commandtheir refilling. They were talking earnestly. And their voices wereunusually modulated. Just beyond these a slight, good-looking man inchapps, with a face of particularly refined but somewhat debauchedappearance, was obviously interested in their talk, although he took nopart in it. On the other side of them, away at the far end of the bar, leaned a solitary, tough-looking drinker, who seemed to take nointerest whatever in his surroundings. Every man in the place, thedozen or so occupying the card tables included, was fully armed in thecustomary fashion prevailing in this distant corner of the ranchingworld, and it would have needed no second thought to realize that theseheavy, loaded weapons were not by any means intended for decorativepurposes. 

"Wal, anyways they're a long time fixin' things, " observed one of thethree at the centre of the bar, with a yawn that displayed a double rowof gleaming white teeth. "The boss guessed I'd best wait around, so itain't a heap o' use kickin'. I'll hev to wait till the durnedcommittee's through, if it takes 'em sittin' as long us a hide-boundhen. "

"It's allus that-a-way when folks gets on a committee racket, Curly, "replied one of his friends with a sympathetic grin. 

"That's just how, Dan, " agreed the third. "Hot air. That's what itis. This tarnation Vigilance stunt sets folk whisperin' among'emselves 'bout the hell goin' to be ladled out to all cattle thievesin general. Gives 'em visions of hangin'-bees, an' a sort o' fireworkdisplay with guns an' things, an' when they hatched out, what's theresult? Why, a waste o' hot air, an'--no checkens. "

"'T'so, Dan, " agreed Curly, with easy decision. "The boss is too nearrelative of a fancy gentleman for to hand out the sort o' dope rustlersneed. If us boys had the job we'd fix things quick. You'd see thisbum gang kicking air at the end of a rope 'fore Ju, here, had time todope out four fingers of rotgut at the expense of the house. "

He leered across at the unsmiling face of the saloon-keeper. Jupermitted himself to be drawn. 

"Nothin' doin', Curly. " A solemn shake of the head set his walrusmoustache flapping. Then he drew a cigar from a top vest pocket andbit the end through, brushing his moustache aside to discover a placein which to deposit it in his mouth. "I'd sure hate to dope out anyrotgut on you boys. Y'see, I sure got your health at heart. I kind o'love you fellers to death. I'd hate to see you sufferin' at my hands. Guess I was raised Christian. "

"Was you?"

Curly's sarcasm achieved the laugh intended, and, as a result of hissatisfaction, he flung his last half-dollar on the dingy bar. 

"Make that into three drops of liver souse, an' hand us a smile, Ju. Your face is sure killin' trade. "

Ju rolled his cigar across his mouth under the curtain of moustache, lit it, and proceeded to push an uncorked bottle across to hiscustomers. 

"Guess it ain't a bad proposition handin' you boys a smile. Smilesallus happen easy on foolish faces. Seein' I ain't deaf I beenlistenin' to your talk, an' I ain't made up my mind if you're as brightas you're guessin', or if you're the suckers your talk makes you out. Seein' I don't usual take chances, I'll put my dollars on the suckerbusiness. I've stood behind this darned old bar fer ten years, an' Iguess for five of 'em I've listened to talk like yours--from fellerslike you. " He removed the bottle from which the three men had helpedthemselves to liberal "four fingers, " and eyed their glasses askance. "Now, you're worritin' over this lousy Lightfoot gang. So was theothers. So's everybody bin fer five years. An' fer five years thissame lousy Lightfoot gang has just been helpin' 'emselves to the cattleon the ranches around here--liberal. Same as youse fellers have helpedyourselves out o' this bottle. An', durin' that time, I ain't heardtell of one o' them boys who's been spoilin' to hang 'em all doin' athing. Not a thing, 'cep' it's lap up whisky to keep up a supply o'hot air. 

"Wal, " he proceeded, in his biting fashion, as he thrust the bottle onthe shelf and began wiping glasses with a towel that looked to bedecomposing for want of soap, "them lousy rustlers is still runningtheir play in the district jest wher', when, an' how they darn please. See? You, Curly, are kickin' because your boss Dug McFarlane is toomuch of a gentleman. Wal, if I know a man from a seam-squirrel, I'dsure say Dug's got more savee in his whiskers than you got dirt--whichis some. If I got things right, this night's sittin's goin' to putpaid to the Lightfoot gang's account. I'd be glad to say the same ofone or two scores three bums have lately run up right here. "

The offensiveness of his manner left the men quite undisturbed. Theplace would have been strange to them without it. They accepted it aspart of the evening's entertainment. But the allusion to the VigilanceCommittee's efforts brought them into attitudes of close attention. Itdrew the attention, too, of the cattleman with the refined features, and, equally, that of the tough-looking individual at the far end ofthe bar. 

"What are they goin' to do?" demanded Dan urgently. 

Ju puffed aggravatingly at his cigar. 

"Do?" he echoed at last, gazing distantly at the card players acrossthe room. "Why, what any bunch of savee should ha' done five yearsago. Put out a great reward. "

Curly snorted in disdain. 

"See, I tho't it was to be a big play. "

"You allus was bright, " sneered Dan. "How's that goin' to fix theLightfoot crowd?"

"How?" Ju's contempt always found an outlet in the echo of anopponent's interrogation. "Say, Dan, how old are you? Twenty?"

"That ain't nuthin' to you, " the cowpuncher retorted, with a gesture ofhot impatience. 

"Ain't it? Wal, mebbe it ain't, " Ju agreed imperturbably. "But y'seeit takes years an' years gettin' the value o' dollars right. I allowther's folks guesses dollars talks. Wal, I'm guessin' they just_holler_. Make the wad big enough and ther' ain't nuthin' you can'tbuy from a wheat binder to a royal princess with a crown o' jools. Theonly thing you're li'ble to have trouble over is the things Natur'fancies handin' you fer--nix. That an' hoss sense. That's pretty wellthe world to-day, no matter what the sky-pilots an' Sunday-schoolma'ams dope out in their fancy literature. I know. You offer tenthousand dollars for the hangin' of Lightfoot's gang, an', I say righthere, there ain't a feller in it from Lightfoot--if there is sech afeller--down, who wouldn't make a grab at that wad by givin' the restof the crowd away. Makes you think, don't it? Sort o' worries themempty think tanks o' yours. "

But Ju's satisfaction received an unexpected shaking. 

"Some wind, " observed the slim, lonely drinker, in the blandest fashion. 

Ju was round on him in a flash, his walrus moustache bristling. 

"I'm listening, " he said, with a calmness which belied his attitude. 

The other set his glass down on the counter with a bump. 

"If you're listening, " he said, "you have probably understood what Isaid. You're talking through a fog of cynicism which seems to obscurean otherwise fairly competent intellect. You've plundered so manyinnocents in your time by purveying an excessive quantity of bluestonedisguised under the name of alcohol that your overweening conceit hasentirely distorted your perspective till you fancy that your own dregsof human nature constitute the human nature of all the rest of theworld, who would entirely resent being classed as your fellows. In aword you need physic, Ju. "

The speaker laughed amiably, and his smile revealed the weakness whichwas pointed by the signs of debauchery in his good-looking face. Jueyed him steadily. The offense of his words was mitigated by hismanner, but Ju resented the laugh which went round the entire room athis expense. 

"See here, Bob Whitstone, " he began, abandoning his glass wiping andsupporting himself on his counter, with his face offensively thrust inhis opponent's direction, "I ain't got the langwidge you seem to havelapped up with your mother's milk. I don't guess any sucker paid athousand dollars a year for my college eddication so I could come outhere and grow a couple of old beeves and spend my leisure picklin' myfood depot in a low down prairie saloon. Therefor' I'll ask you toexcuse me if I talk in a kind o' langwidge the folks about here mostgener'ly understan'. Guess you think you know some. Maybe you figgerto know it all. Wal, get this. When you get back home jest stand infront of a fi' cent mirror, if you got one in your bum shanty, an' geta peek at your map, an' ask yourself--when you studied it well--if Icouldn't buy you, body an' soul, fer two thousand dollars--cash. I'dsure hate slingin' mud at any feller's features, much less yours, who're a good customer to me, but you're comin' the highbrow, an' yougot notions of honor still floatin' around in your flabby thinkin'department sech as was handed you by the guys who ran that thousanddollar college. Wal, ef you'll look at yourself honest, an' argue withyourself honest, you'll find them things is sure a shadder of the pastwhich happened somew'eres before you tasted that first dose o' prairiepoison which has since become a kind o' habit. It ain't no use ingetting riled, Bob, it ain't no use in workin' overtime on that collegedictionary o' yours to set me crawlin' around among the spit boxes. Fac's is fac's. Ken you hand me a list o' the things you--you whoain't got two spare cents to push into the mission box, an' who'dwillingly sleep in a hog pen if it weren't for a dandy wife who'd gotno more sense than to marry you--wouldn't do if I was to hand you out aroll of ten thousand dollars right now--cash? Tcha! You think. Iknow. "

He turned away in a wave of contemptuous disgust. And as he did so aharsh voice from the other end of the bar held him up. 

"What about me, Ju?"

The tough-looking prairie man made his demand with a laugh only a shadeless harsh than his speaking voice. 

Ju stood. His desperate, keen face was coldly still as he regarded thepowerful frame of his challenger. Then his retort came swift andpoignant. 

"You, Sikkem? You'd allus _give_ yourself away. Get me?"

The frigidity of the saloon-keeper's manner was over-powering. The mancalled Sikkem was unequal in words to such a challenge. A flush slowlydyed his lean cheeks, and an angry depression of the brows suggestedsomething passionate and forceful. Just for a moment many eyes glancedin his direction. The saloon-keeper was steadily regarding him. Therewas no suggestion of anger in his attitude, merely cat-likewatchfulness. Their eyes met. Then the cloud abruptly lifted fromSikkem's brow, and he laughed with unsmiling, black eyes. Thesaloon-keeper rinsed a glass and unconcernedly began to wipe it. 

The incident was allowed to pass. But it was the termination of thediscussion, a termination which left Ju victor, not because of therightness of his views, but because there was no man in Orrvillecapable of joining issue with him in debate with any hope of success. Action rather than words was the prevailing feature with these people, and, in his way, Ju Penrose was equal, if not superior, not only indebate, but in the very method these people best understood. 

A moment later Sikkem took his departure. 

 * * * * * *

It was well past midnight when the last man turned out of Ju's bar. But the crowd had not yet scattered to their various homes. They weregathered in a small, excited cluster gaping up at a big notice pastedon the weather-boarding of the saloon-keeper's shack. Ju himself wasstanding in their midst, right in front of the notice, which had beenindited in ink, evidently executed with a piece of flat wood. He washolding up a lantern, and every eye was carefully, and in manyinstances laboriously, studying the text inscribed. 

It was a notice of reward. A reward of ten thousand dollars forinformation leading to the capture of the gang of cattle thieves knownas the "Lightfoot gang. " And it was signed by Dug McFarlane on behalfof the Orrville Rancher's Vigilance Committee. 

"Guess Ju knowed after all, " somebody observed, in a confidential toneto his neighbor. 

But Ju's ears were as long and sharp as his tongue. He flashed roundon the instant, his lantern lowered from the level of the notice board. There was a sort of cold triumph in his manner as his eyes fell uponthe speaker. 

"Know'd?" he cried sharply. "Ain't 'knowin'' my business? Psha!" Hiscontempt was withering. Then his manner changed back to the triumphwhich the notice had inspired. "Say, it's a great piece of money. Itsurely is some bunch. Ten thousand dollars! Gee! His game's up. Lightfoot's as good as kickin' his heels agin the breezes. He's playedhis hand, an'--lost. "

And somehow no one seemed inclined to add to his statement. Nor, whichwas much more remarkable, contradict it. Now that these men had seenthe notice with their own eyes the force of all Ju had so recentlycontended came home to them. There was not one amongst that littlegathering who did not realize the extent of the odds militating againstthe rustlers. Ten thousand dollars! There was not a man present whodid not feel the tremendous power of such a reward. 

The gathering melted away slowly, and finally Bob Whitstone was leftalone before the gleaming sheet of paper, with Ju standing in hisdoorway. The lantern was at his feet upon the sill. His hands werethrust in the tops of his shabby trousers. He was regarding the"gentleman" rancher meditatively, and his half burnt cigar glowed underthe deep intake of his powerful lungs. 

"It's a dandy bunch, Bob, eh?" he demanded presently, in an ironicaltone. "Guess I'd come nigh sellin' my own father fer--ten thousanddollars. An' I don't calc'late I'd get nightmare neither. " Then hedrew a deep breath which suggested regret. "But--it ain't comin' myway. No. Not by a sight. " Then, after a watchful pause, hecontinued: "I'm kind o' figgerin' whose way. Not mine, or--yours. Eh, Bob? We could do with it. Pity, ain't it?"

Bob turned. His eyes sought the face in the shadow of the doorway. 

"I'm no descendant of Judas, " he said coldly. 

"No. But--Judas didn't sell a gang of murdering cattle rustlers. Thatain't Judas money. "

"Maybe. But it's blood money all the same. "

"Mighty bad blood that oughter be spilt. "

Bob turned away. His gaze wandered out westward. Then his eyes cameslowly back to the man in the door-way. 

"You thought I was talking hot air just now--about a man's price. Youdidn't like it. Well, when I find myself with a price I hope I shan'tlive to be paid it. That's all. "

The man in the doorway shook his head. Then he spoke slowly, deliberately. And somehow much of the sharpness had gone out of histone, and the hard glitter of his steely eyes had somehow become lesspronounced. 

"Oh, I guess I got your meanin' right, fer all yer thousand dollarlangwidge. Sure, I took you right away. But--it don't signify a cussanyways. Guess you was born a gentleman, Bob, which I wa'an't. An'because you was born an' raised that-a-way you'd surely like to kepright hold o' the notion that folks ken still act as though they'd beenweaned on talk of honor an' sichlike. I sez kep a holt on that notion. Grip it tight, an' don't never let go on it. Grab it same as you wouldthe feller that's yearnin' fer your scalp. If you lose your grip thattow-colored scalp of yours'll be raised sure, an' every peniciousbreeze that blows 'll get into your think depot and hand you every sortof mental disease ther' ain't physic enough in the world to cure. Guess that's plumb right. It don't cut no ice what I think. A fellerlike me jest thinks the way life happens to boost him. Y'see, I ain'thad no thousand dollar eddication to make me see things any other ways. Life's a mighty tough proposition an' it can't be run on no schedule, an' each feller's got to travel the way he sees with his own two eyes. If he's got the spectacles of a thousand dollar eddication he's ana'mighty lucky feller, an' I'm guessin' they'll help him dodge a wholeheap o' muck holes he'd otherwise bury his silly head in. So hang on, boy. Grip them darn fool notions so they ain't got a chance. If youlet go--wal, you'll get a full-sized peek into a pretty fancy sort o'hell wher' ther' ain't any sort o' chance o' dopin' your visions out o'sight with Ju Penrose's belly wash. So long. "

Ju picked up his lantern and turned back into his bar, closing andsecuring his door behind him. Then, with keen anticipation andenjoyment, he approached his till and proceeded to count his day'stakings. 

 * * * * * *

Bob Whitstone unhitched his horse from Ju's tying post. He swunghimself into the saddle and rode away, --away toward his outland homeunder the starlit roof of the plains. It was an almost nightly journeywith him now, for the saloon habit had caught him in its toils, and wasalready holding him firmly. 

His mood was not easy. He resented Ju Penrose. He resented all men ofhis type. He knew him for a crook. He believed he possessed no moreconscience than any other habitual criminal. But his resentment wasthe weak echo of an upbringing which had never intended him for suchassociation, and, in spite of it, the man's personality held him, andits strength dominated him. 

His way took him out across an almost trackless waste of richgrass-land. Somewhere out there, hidden away at the foot of theCathills, lay his homestead, and the wife for whom he had abandoned allthat his birth had entitled him to. During the past two years he hadlearned truly all that he had sacrificed for the greatest of all dreamsof youth. 

But these things, for the moment, were not in his mind. Only Penrose. Ju Penrose, whom he had learned to detest and despise out of theeducated mind that was his. The man's final homily was entirely lostupon Bob. Such was his temper that only the gross outrages against theprecepts of his youth remained. He only heard the hateful, detestablecynicism, brutally expressed. It was something curious how he onlytook note of these things, and missed the rough solicitude of Ju'sfinal admonishment. But he was young and weak, and a shadow ofbitterness had entered his life, which, at his age, should have foundno place in it. 

The miles swept away under his horse's hoofs. Already the township, that sparse little oasis of shelter in a desert of grass-land, lay lostbehind him in the depths of some hidden trough in the waves of theprairie ocean, The great yellow disc of the moon had cut the horizonand lit his tracks, but its light was still unrevealing and only addedcharm to the blaze of summer jewels which adorned the soft velvet ofthe heavens. 

He glanced back. But almost instantly his eyes were turned againahead. The night scene of these plains was too familiar to him toexcite interest. To him there were simply miles intervening betweenhim and the slumbers he was seeking. The prairie, for all itsbeauties, spelt toilful days and bitter disappointment for him. Wherein then should be discovered its charms?

Again his mind settled itself upon the events of the evening. Price?Price? Every man, he had been told, had his price. Every man andwoman. He uttered a sound. It might have been a laugh, but it lackedmirth. It startled his alert horse. It almost seemed to startle thequiet night itself. What was his price? All he knew about price wasits payment. He had only been called upon to pay. And he had paid!My God, he had paid! All that had been his. All the wealth, thecomfort, the luxury and prospects which had been his in his wealthyfather's home, had been the price he had paid for the right, which wasthe right of every man, to choose for himself, and to take to himselfand to wife, the woman who seemed to him to be the one creature in theworld who could yield him the happiness which alone was worth while. 

This talk of a man's price only enraged him the more. He viciouslydetested Ju Penrose, and all such creatures who walked the world. 

Well, the reward was out. Time would show. If it failed to find theJudas he would remind Ju. Oh, yes, he would remind him. He would waithis time for the reminder. He would wait till the saloon was full, andthen--then he would open out his batteries. Men were of----

What was that?

He had pulled his horse up with a swift tightening of his hand. Nowthe beast stood with head erect, and pricked ears firmly thrustforward. Its head was turned southward, and the gush of its distendednostrils warned its rider that his question was shared by a creaturewhose instincts were even more acute, here, on the prairie, than thoseof its human master. 

Bob bent down in the saddle the better to obtain the silhouette of thesky-line. The sound which had held him came up on the southern nightbreeze. It was a low murmur, or rumble, and, to his accustomed ears, it suggested the speeding of hoofs over the green clad earth. Hewaited for many moments, but the sound only increased. There was nodoubt left in his mind now. None at all. 

He sat up again and glanced swiftly about him. The moonlight hadincreased, and a silver sheen threw up the surrounding scene intoindistinct relief. Beyond, to his right, he detected a small patch ofscrub and spruce, and, without a second thought, he made for it. 

A minute later he was out of the saddle beside his horse, screened fromview of the plains by a belt of bush. He secured his horse and movedto the fringe of his shelter. Here he took up a position facing south, and his view of the plains beyond became uninterrupted. 

He knew what was coming. Instinct warned him. Perhaps even it was thewish fathering his belief. He felt it was a certainty that therustlers were out pursuing their depredations with their customaryunchallenged daring. Who, he wondered, was the present victim, andwhat was the extent of the raid?

He had not long to wait. The sound grew. It lost its distantcontinuity and became broken into the distinct hoof beats of largenumbers. Furthermore, by the sound of it, they would pass right acrosshis front. He had been wise in seeking cover. Had he remained----

But speculation gave way before the interest of movement. Now thesilhouette of the sky-line was dancing before his eyes. In themoonlight he could clearly make out the passing of a driven herd. Itcame on, losing itself in the shadows of a distant trough. Again itappeared. More distinct now. He whistled under his breath. They werecoming from the direction of Dug McFarlane's and it was a large herd. They were traveling northwest, which would cut into the hills away tothe north of his homestead. They----

But they were almost abreast of him now, and he heard the voices of menurging and cursing. Lower he dropped toward the earth the better toascertain the numbers. But his estimate was uncertain. There weremoments when the herd looked very large. There were moments when itlooked less. He felt that a conservative estimate would be one hundredperhaps, and some eight or ten men driving them. 

They were gone as they had come, lumbering rapidly, and as they passednorthward the southern breeze carried the sound away. It died outquickly, and for minutes longer than was needed he stood listening, listening. Then, at last, he turned back to his horse. 

In the two years of his sojourn on the land it was the first time hehad witnessed the operation of the Lightfoot gang, and it left a deepimpression upon his mind. A great resentment rose up in him. It wasthe natural temper of a man who is concerned, in however small adegree, in the cattle industry. And his anger urged him to a greaterspeed for home, and a greater sympathy for the man who was prepared toaccept the Judas money offered for the lives of this gang of criminals. 

CHAPTER III

TRAILING THE "BLACK TAIL"

The woman started. She threw up her head. Her wide eyes, wonderfuland dark, searched the deep aisles of the shaded pine woods about her. Her hair hung loosely in a knot at the nape of her neck, and itsintensely dark masses made an exquisite framing for the oval of thehandsome face beneath the loose brim of wide prairie hat. 

The stillness of these wooded slopes of the Cathills was profound. They possessed something of the solemnity belonging to the parent rangeof the Rockies beyond. For they were almost primeval. The woman mighthave belonged to them, her dark beauty so harmonized with itssurroundings. Yet for all her coloring, for all the buckskin she worefor upper garment, there was nothing in her nature of the outlandswhich now claimed her. She was of the cities. She was bred andnurtured in the civilized places. The life about her was another life. It was crude and foreign to her. It claimed her by force ofcircumstance against every instinct and emotion. 

Her searching ceased, and her eyes fixed their steady regard upon agray-brown object moving amongst the myriad of black stanchions whichsupported the tousled roof of melancholy green foliage above her. Withan almost imperceptible movement one buckskin clad arm reached slowlyout toward the small sporting rifle which leaned against an adjacenttree-trunk. Her whole poise was tense and steady. There was in herattitude that hard decision which one associates only with theexperienced hunter. There was almost too much decision in a woman soobviously young. 

The weapon was drawn toward her. For one brief moment it was laidacross her lap upon the paper-covered book she had been reading. Thenits butt found its way to a resting place against her soft shoulder. Not for an instant had her gaze been diverted from the moving object. Now, however, her head inclined forward, and her warm cheek was laidagainst the cool butt. The sights of the weapon were brought up intoline. The pressure of her forefinger was increased upon the trigger. There was a sharp report followed by a swift rush of scampering hoofsamongst the brittle pine cones and needles which carpeted the twilitwoods. Then, in a flash, all the tense poise gave way to consideredbut rapid activity. 

The woman sprang to her feet. She was tall and straight as a willow. Her rough canvas skirt was divided. Her buckskin shirt was fringed andbeaded. She made a picture of active purpose that belied herfemininity. In a moment she was in the saddle of the pony which hadbeen dozing a few yards away. Her rifle was slung upon one shoulder, and her paper-covered book was thrust within the fastenings of hershirt. She was hot in pursuit of the small black-tailed deer which hershot had wounded. 

Effie bent low in the saddle which she rode astride. Herwell-accustomed pony twisted and turned, threading its way almostmiraculously through the labyrinth of bald tree-trunks. Thesepot-hunts, which were of such frequent occurrence, were the recreationwhich alone made life tolerable to its mistress. 

The woman saw only her quarry. For the rest she left the road to herpony. With slack reins she leaned forward, carrying her featherweightover the horn of the saddle. The woods meant nothing to her. The mazeof tree-trunks as they sped by conveyed no threat of danger. She wasconcerned only with the obviously limping beast which was to providevenison for the pot for the next two weeks to come. 

Her pony gained nothing upon the wounded deer. But it lost no distanceeither. The scene changed and changed again. The woods yielded toopen grass, and again they merged into scattered scrub, through whichit was difficult to track their quarry. Up hill, down dale, overhummock, through hollow. Once more through the dark aisles of agedpine woods. And always northward. 

Time had no place in the woman's mind. Excitement, hope, doubt. Theseoccupied her to the full. And above all purpose reigned. 

Twice she drew up to within shot. But she refrained. She was herselfas breathless as her quarry, and the shot would probably have beenwasted. Besides, those pauses of the poor hunted beast carried theirown significance to her practised mind. Its limping was sore, and nowits stumblings were becoming more and more frequent. 

They had passed an open stretch, a mere cup surrounded by sharp-rising, pine-clad hills. They entered woods on the northernmost slope, andbegan a climb so severe that pursuer and pursued were brought to asheer scramble. The toil was terrific, but Effie's pony, bred of thetough prairie fibre, clawed up with indomitable courage and endurance. The deer kept its lead by desperate, agonizing effort, and the womanknew that the summit would have exhausted its resources. 

On they went, on and up, the pace of both ever slackening. One hundredyards only separated them now, and, with almost every stride, thedistance was lessening. The summit was in sight. The pony was blowinghard. Effie urged him, and the vicious Mexican spurs found his flanks. There was no thought of sparing in the girl's mind. If the bronchofailed her, then she must finish the chase on foot. 

Another fifty yards or so and the deer would have reached the summit. Could she permit it? Dared she risk what lay beyond? If the open pinewoods continued she might, but--what lay beyond?

Without further speculation she suddenly flung out of the saddle. Herdecision was taken. She dared not risk that summit with her pony nowrapidly failing. She must chance her own unsteadiness. The pursuithad been hard and breathless. Well, she must trust to her nerve. 

She left her steaming pony and dropped on one knee. With all her mindand will concentrated she drew a deep breath as the rifle was raised toher shoulder. With a stern deliberation she leveled her sights andfired. The spent deer stood, and shook, and then gazed round. Therewas something dreadful in the appeal of its wistful attitude. For onesecond the woman closed her eyes. Then they opened, and their beautywas full of resolve. Again the rifle was at her shoulder. Again thesights were leveled. Again the weapon spat out its vicious pellet. This time the weapon was lowered for good, and the movement wasinspired by the sight of the deer. It quietly dropped upon its kneesand rolled over on its side. 

Ten minutes later the body of the deer was securely lashed to the backof the saddle. There was no regret in the heart of the woman as herpractised fingers secured the warm body. It was game. Fair game, brought down in open chase, and it would provide welcome change in themonotonous diet of her home. Besides, the spirit of the hunter grippedher soul. It was the only thing which made life endurable in thesedrab outlands. 

At the summit of the hill she breathed a sigh of relief. Her judgmentand decision were amply proved. Nor in any uncertain fashion. Thewoods ceased in a clean cut, such as is so frequently the case wherethe pine world reigns. And rearing blankly before her gaze stood adense barrier of low and heavy green bush. It needed small enoughimagination to realize the security which lay in its depths for sosmall a creature as a wounded deer. 

For some thoughtful moments Effie gazed upon the barrier. Then sheturned and surveyed her dejected pony. Again her decision was takenwithout hesitation. She stooped and set a pair of hobbles about thetired creature's pasterns, and, leaving him to his own devices, set offto ascertain her whereabouts. 

 * * * * * *

But her movements were not without feminine curiosity, added to whichwas the businesslike desire to familiarize herself with every foot ofthe country within reach of her home. This was a break into newterritory. Time was small enough object to her, and, besides, her ponyneeded time to recuperate from its leg weariness. 

It required less than ten minutes, however, to banish every otherthought from her mind and absorb it in amazement at her discovery. Abrief battle with a dense and obstinate scrub found her standing in thecentre of a wide sort of bridle path, scored with a dozen or so cattletracks crowded with the spurs of driven cattle. 

She stood gazing down at the signs everywhere about her in the loosesand, dumbfounded at the sight. She knew there was no homestead orranch within miles of this region. Was she not bitterly aware that herown home marked the fringe of the cattle world in this direction?

Slowly there grew in the depths of her heart a feeling of apprehension. The stillness, the remoteness, the tremendous solitude, and yet--thosetracks. 

She stood intent and listening. Her ears were straining for a sound. But only there came to her the whispering breezes rustling the mournfulfoliage of the pine woods behind her. Her eyes were raised to thewalls of scrub lining the roadway. They searched vainly for a sign. There was none. Simply the riot of nature about her, and, at her feet, those tracks. 

She moved. Then swiftly she passed across to the western side of theroadway where the westering sun threw ample shadow. All unconsciouslyit seemed her movements became almost furtive, furtive and rapid. Shepassed down the bush-lined way, hugging the grassy edges to avoidleaving trace of her footsteps in the sand. Understanding was withher, and that understanding warned her of the jeopardy in which shestood should her presence be advertised. 

Thought, speculation and imagination were a-riot in her now. She wasproceeding in the direction the broad cloven hoof marks indicated. What--lay beyond?

Many minutes passed. Breathless minutes of pulsing excitement for thewoman who knew only monotony and the drudgery of an outland life. Nowomanish fears could deter her. She believed and hoped she was on theeve of a great discovery, and such was her reckless desire that nothingcould deter her. 

The aspect of the scrub changed. It became dotted with taller trees. The paler foliage of spruce reared itself, and, here and there, isolated clumps of towering pines threw shadows across her path. Thengaps broke up the continuity, but, even so, the view beyond to her leftwas cut off by remoter growths. Once or twice she hazarded her wayinto them in her search for information, but always she returned to thebroad track of the footprints of driven cattle. 

The pathway rose at a steep incline. It bent away to the right, and, in the distance, it seemed that it must converge upon the sharp cutedge of the great pine woods she had so recently left. With thisconclusion came another. The track must terminate abruptly or it mustpass back into the great pine bluff. 

The end, however, was neither of these things. And it was far nearerthan she had suspected. The path twisted back into the huge reverse ofan S, and finished abruptly at the sharp edge of a wide deep valley. 

It came upon her almost with a shock. The tracks had abruptly swungwestward. She rounded the bend, and, in a moment, found herself gazingout over a wide valley from a dizzy height. 

Her first feeling was that the drop was sheer, precipitate. Thenrealization superseded, and she flung herself full length upon theground and pressed her way into the shelter of an adjacent bush. Thepath had not ended. It passed over the brink and continued its wayzigzagging down the terrific slope to the valley below. It was this, and the sight of a distant spiral of smoke rising from below, which hadflung her into the shelter of the friendly bush. Her risk had onlybeen momentary, but even in that moment she had been silhouetted infull view of any chance gaze below. 

She drew herself toward the edge of the drop. Just where she had flungherself it was clean and sheer, and the bush overhung. Thus she wasleft with a full view of the depths below. Her dark eyes dwelt uponthe zigzagging path. She followed its downward course to the greenplain. She tracked it across to the far side of the valley. Then shedrew a sharp breath, and her eyes widened. 

The telltale smoke rose from the heart of a woodland bluff, and near bya large herd of cattle was grazing, watched over by three mounted menwhose horses were moving slowly over the bright green carpet of grass. 

She lay quite still, regardless of all but those moving figures, andthe dark green bluff. She was watching and waiting for she knew notwhat. Her heart was thumping in her bosom, and her breath camerapidly. There was no question in her mind. In a moment her wholelife seemed to have changed. The day had dawned to a contemplation ofthe monotonous round of drudging routine, only to close with a thrillsuch as she had never dreamed could be hers. 

The moments passed; rapid, poignant moments. The sun dipped lowertoward the alabaster crests of distant mountain peaks. The peace ofthe scene suggested nothing of the turbulent thought a-riot behind herwide, dark eyes. What must be done? What could she do--a woman? Shefelt helpless--so helpless. And yet----

She raised herself upon her elbow and propped her soft cheek upon thepalm of her hand. She must think--think. The chance of it all. Itwas so strange. There lay the secret revealed--the secret which everyrancher in the district for years had sought to discover. There wasthe camp of the Lightfoot gang. She had discovered it, had discoveredits approach. Everything--she, a woman. 

What could she do with the secret? How could she---- She thought ofher husband. But somehow her enthusiasm lessened with the thought. But she needed him. Yes. There was no room for any doubt on thatscore. He must be roused, and convinced. He most be made to see theimportance and significance of her discovery, and they must turn itto----

The crack of a rifle startled her. Almost on the instant thewhistling, tearing of a bullet sounded in the bush to the left of her. Her glance was terrified as it turned in the direction. Then, in amoment, she was crouching lower as she searched the valley away over bythe bluff. 

In an instant her nerves strung tight. A group of men were standingjust within its shadow, and the three horsemen, who had been ridinground the cattle, were racing directly toward the foot of the pathwayleading out of the valley. She must have been seen when she had stoodat the opening. And now----

But there was not a second to lose. She sprang to a crouching positionunder the bush. Another shot rang viciously upon the still air. Thebullet tore its way through the bush. This time it was still wider ofher hiding place. But already she had begun her retreat--swiftly, andcrouching low. 

She reached the shelter of the barrier just as another bullet whistledoverhead. Then she set off at a run. 

And as she ran she calculated the chances. She had a big start, andthe horsemen had to face the zigzag climb. If she made no mistakesthere was little chance of their discovering her. They could nevermake that climb before she reached her pony. 

She increased her pace. Her nerves were steadying. Strangely hercontrol was wonderful. There was no real fear in her--only tension. Now as she ran down the open way her eyes were alert for everylandmark, and her woodcraft was sufficiently practised to stand her ingood stead. She recognized each feature in the path until she came tothe point where she had first entered it In a moment she was battlingher way through the thick bush, and the tension she was laboring undertook her through it in a fraction of the time her first traversing hadbeen made. Her pony was standing within ten yards of the spot at whichshe had left him. 

She breathed a great relief. In a moment she had unbuckled the hobbleson his forelegs. Then, with the habit of her life on the plains, shetightened the cinchas of the saddle. Then she replaced the bit in itsmouth. 

As she swung herself into the saddle the distant plod of hoofs poundingthe cattle tracks reached her. For one instant she sat in doubt. Then, with a half-thought fear lest her hard pursuit of the woundeddeer had left her tough broncho spent, she swung him about and vanishedlike a ghost into the gloomy depths of the woods. 

CHAPTER IV

THE WEAKER VESSEL

The homestead rested upon the southern slope of a wood-crowned hill, which was merely one of a swarm of hills of lesser or greatermagnitude. Westward, away in the distance, the silver sheen of themain mountain range still continued to reflect the rainbow tints of aradiant sunset. 

It was a homestead to associate with hands less than 'prentice. Therewas neither imagination nor very definite purpose in its planning. Itrather gave the impression of the driving of sheer necessity than theenthusiasm of effort toward the achievement of a heartily conceivedpurpose. Furthermore, it bore evident signs of a desire to escape asfar as possible the burdens of the life it represented. 

The squalid two-roomed house was sunk into the backing to the slopinghill. Its front and sides were of green logs and a mud plaster. Itsroof was of a primitive thatch, held secure from winter storms bysapling logs lashed fast across it. The central doorway was filled bya rough-boarded door, and the apertures left for added light werecovered with thin cotton material. They were left wide open in summer, and in winter only served to shut out the worst of the driven snows andmost of the daylight. 

The adjacent barn was of far greater extent, but of considerably lessdegree. Still, it was sufficiently weather-proof, which was all thatcould be reasonably hoped for by the toughened creatures, who foundshelter beneath its crazy roof. Higher up the slope stood a couple ofcorrals of sorts. Their position was at the southern extremity of thewoodland crown, their placing probably inspired by the adjacency of thematerial required for their construction. 

Below the house stretched a sloping patch of growing wheat, perhapsabout thirty acres in extent. This was the real business of thehomestead, and, in spite of the crazy fencing of barbed wire about it, it looked to be richly flourishing. 

For all the general ineffectiveness of the place, however, it was notwithout significance. For it gave that human touch which at oncebreaks up the overpowering sensation which never fails to depress inthe silent heart of Nature's immensity. It spoke of courage, too. Thereckless courage of early youth, plunging for the first time intoindependence. Furthermore, it suggested something of the first greatsacrifice which the hot tide of love, surging through youthful veins, is prepared to make for the object of its passionate regard. In anycase it symbolized the irresistible progress of man's effort whenpitted against the passive resistance of Nature's most fiercely ruggedfrontiers. 

A wonderful harmonious peace reigned over the scene which was bathed inthe light of a drooping sun. It was the chastened pastoral peace, thanwhich there is no more perfect in the world. Cattle were grazing theirway homeward; the cows bearing their burden of laden udders to yield itfor the benefit and prosperity of the community; the steers lingeringat the banks of the murmuring mountain stream, or standing knee-deep inits waters, their sleek sides sheathed in rolls of fat, only waiting toyield up their humble lives as their contribution to the insatiabledemands of the dominant race. 

Two or three horses stood adjacent to the doorway of the humble barn, patiently flickering their long, unkempt tails in a vain effort to wardoff the attacks of swarming flies. A few chickens moved aboutdrowsily, just outside the hutch which had been contrived for theirnightly shelter. While stretched upon the dusty earth, side by side, lay two great rough-coated dogs slumbering their hours of watch andward away in the shade, with the indifference of creatures whose vainhopes of battle have been all too long deferred. 

All of a sudden there came a partial awakening. 

Out of the west, down the slope of a neighboring hill came a figure onhorseback. It was moving at a rapid gallop. The horses at the barnturned about and raised their heads watchfully. They whinnied at theapproach. The two dogs were on their feet startled into alertness, vain hope rising once more in their fierce hearts. The hens cackledfussily at the prospect of their deferred evening meal. The last ofthe cattle ambled heavily from the water's edge. It was rather likethe obscure movement of a mainspring, setting into motion even theremotest wheel of a mechanism. 

Effie galloped up to the house. Nothing of the gentle waking hercoming had inspired attracted her observation. Her handsome eyes werepreoccupied, and their gaze wandered back over the way she had come, searching the distance with the minutest care. Finally she dismountedand off-saddled, turning her pony loose to follow the promptings of itsown particular requirements. Then she set about releasing the carcaseof the deer upon her saddle, and bore it away to a lean-to shed at theside of the house. Emerging therefrom she picked up her saddle andbridle and took them into the house. Then she took up her stand withinthe doorway and, once more, narrowly searched the surrounding hillswith eyes as eager and doubtful as they were beautiful. 

The calm of evening had settled once more upon the place. The peace ofit all was superlative. It was peace to which Effie was something morethan averse. She dreaded it. For all her two years of life in themeagre home her husband had provided her with, it required all hercourage and fortitude to endure it. The hills haunted and oppressedher, and her only hope lay in the active prosecution of her work. 

She breathed a profound sigh. There was relief in the expression ofher face. The drooping corners of her mouth and the tight compressionof her well-formed lips told their own story of her emotions. She hadpassed through an anxious time, and only now was she beginning to feelreassured. 

Yes. All was well, she believed. She had lost her pursuers, thanks tothe staunchness of her pony, and her knowledge of the country abouther. With another sigh, but this time one of weariness, she left herdoorway and moved over to the barn. There was still the dreary roundof "chores" to which her life seemed dedicated. 

 * * * * * *

A solitary horseman sat gazing out through a leafy barrier across thenarrow valley of the little mountain stream. His eyes were fixed uponthe dejected homestead on the slope of the hill beyond. He wasbe-chapped, and carried the usual complement of weapons at his waist. His horse was an unusually fine creature, and well up to the burden itwas called upon to bear. Nor was that burden a light one, for the manwas both massive and muscular. 

The watchful eyes were deep set in a mahogany-hued setting. It was ahard face, brutal, and the eyes were narrow and cruel. 

For a long time he sat there regarding the homestead. He beheld thegraceful form of the woman as she moved swiftly about her work. Judging from his expression, which was by no means pleasant, twoemotions were struggling for dominance. For some time doubt held chiefplace, but slowly it yielded to some more animal emotion. Furthermoretemptation was urging him, and more than once he lifted his reins, which became a sign of yielding. 

But all these emotions finally passed. It was evident that some evenstronger force was really governing him. For, with a sharp ejaculationthat conveyed every feeling suggested by disappointment, he swung hishorse about and galloped off in a southeasterly direction--towardOrrville. 

 * * * * * *

It was past midnight. Effie, flushed with an unusual excitement, wasgazing up into her husband's face. She was listening almostbreathlessly to the story he was telling her. The little living-room, more than half kitchen, was bathed in the yellow light of a small tinkerosene lamp. For the time at least her surroundings, the poverty anddrudgery of her life, were forgotten in the absorbing feelingsconsuming her. 

"I tell you, Effie, I was scared--plumb scared when I saw what it was, "Bob Whitstone ended up. "Guess we've known long enough the wholeblamed countryside is haunted by cattle rustlers, but--that's the firsttime I've seen 'em, and I guess it's the first time any one's seen 'emat work. Say, I'm not yearning for the experience again. "

But Effie had no interest beyond his story. His feelings on the matterof his experience were of no concern whatever at the moment. Therewere other things in her mind, things of far greater import. Shereturned to the rocker chair, which was the luxury of their home, andsat down. There was one thing only in Bob's story which mattered toher just now. 

"Ten thousand dollars, " she murmured. "_Ten thousand_! It'sa--fortune. "

Bob moved across to a rough shelf nailed upon the wall and picked up apipe. 

"A bit limited, " he observed contemptuously, as poured some tobaccodust into the bowl. 

"I was thinking of--ourselves. "

The man ceased his operation to gaze swiftly down upon the gentlyswaying figure in the chair. 

"What d'you mean, Effie?" he demanded sharply. 

The girl's steady eyes were slowly raised in answer to the challengingtone. They met her husband's without a shadow of hesitation. 

"It sounds like a fortune to me, who have not handled a dollar that Icould spend without careful thought--for two years, " she declared withwarmth. 

Bob completed the filling of his pipe. He did not answer for a fewmoments, but occupied himself by lighting it with a reeking sulphurmatch. 

"That's a pretty hard remark, " he said at last, emitting heavy cloudsof smoke between his words. 

"Is it? But--it's just plain facts. "

"I s'pose it is. "

The girl had permitted her gaze to wander. It passed from herhusband's face to the deplorable surroundings which she had almostgrown accustomed to, but which now stood out in her mind with an addedsense of hopelessness. The lime-wash over the cracked and brokenplaster which filled the gaps between the logs of the walls. Themiserable furnishing, much of it of purely home manufacture, thrown upinto hideous relief by the few tasteful knickknacks which had beenwedding presents from her intimate friends and relatives in the east. The earthen floor, beaten hard and kept scrupulously swept by her ownhands. The cook-stove in the corner, with its ill-set stovepipepassing out of a hole in the wall which had been crudely covered withtin to keep out the draughts in winter. The drooping ceiling of cottonmaterial, which sagged in great billows under the thatch of the roof. It was all deplorable to a woman who had known the comfort of an almostluxurious girlhood. Into her eyes crept a curious light. It was halfresentful, half triumphant. It was wholly absorbed. 

"Suppose? There's no supposition, " she cried bitterly. "I have hadthe experience of it all, the grind. Maybe you don't know what it isto a woman, a girl, to find herself cut off suddenly from all thelittle luxuries she has always been used to. I don't meanextravagances. Just the trifling refinements which count for so muchin a young woman's life. The position is possible, so long as the hoperemains of their return later, perhaps fourfold. But when that hope nolonger exists--I guess there's nothing much else that's worth while. "

The man continued to smoke on for some silent moments. Then, as thegirl, too, remained silent, he glanced at her out of the corners of hiseyes. 

"You gave up a good deal for me--for this, " he said in gentle protest. "But you did it with your eyes open--I mean, to the true facts of myposition. Say, Effie, I didn't hold you up for this thing. I laidevery card on the table. My father threatened us both, to our faces, if we persisted in marrying. Well, I guess we persisted, and he--why, he just handed us what he promised--the dollars that bought usthis--farm. That was all. It was the last cent he figured to pass ourway. You know all that, and you never squealed--then. You knew whatwas in store. I mean--this. " He flung out one arm in a comprehensivegesture. "You guessed you'd grit enough to face it--with me. We hopedto win out. " Then he smiled. "Say, I guess I haven't given up athing--for you, eh? I haven't quit the home of millionaire fatherwhere my year's pocket money was more than the income of seventy percent. Of other folks! I, too, did it for this--and you. Won't youstick it for me?"

The man's appeal was spoken in low earnest tones His eyes were gentle. But the girl kept hers studiously turned from his direction, and it wasimpossible for him to read that which lay behind them. 

Again some silent moments passed. The girl was gently rocking herself. At last, however, she drew in her feet in a nervous, purposefulmovement, and sat forward. 

"Bob, " she exclaimed, and now there were earnestness and kindness inthe eyes that gazed up at the man, "it's no use for us to talk thisway, " she cried. "I began it, and I ought to be sorry--real sorry. But I'm not. I wouldn't have acted that way under ordinarycircumstances. But it's different now, and it was your own talk mademe. You sneered at that ten thousand dollars, which seems to be afortune to me. Ten thousand dollars!" she breathed. "And we haven'tten dollars between us in this--house. Bob, it makes me mad when Ithink of it. You don't care. You don't worry. All yon care for is toget away from it all--from me--and spend your time among the boys inOrrville. You've been away ever since dinner to-day, and now it's pastmidnight. Why? Why, when there's a hundred and one things to doaround this wretched shanty? No--you undertake this thing, andthen--spend every moment you can steal--yes, that's the word--steal, hanging around Ju Penrose's saloon. I'm left to fix things righthere--to do the work which you have undertaken. Then you sneer when Isee a fortune in that ten thousand dollars reward. "

The girl's swift heat was not without effect. She had not intended toaccuse in so straight a fashion. It was the result of long pent-upbitterness, which never needs more than a careless word to hurl intoactive expression. Bob's mild expression of contempt looked to beabout to cost him dear. 

A moody look not untouched with some sort of fear had crept into theman's eyes. Now he tried to smooth the threat of storm he saw looming. Furthermore, an uncomfortable feeling of his own guilt was possessinghim. 

"But what if it can be called a fortune, Effie?" he demanded swiftly. "It don't concern us. I don't guess it's liable to come our way. "

"Why not?"

The girl's challenge came short and sharp, and her beautiful eyes wereturned upon him full of cold regard. 

The man was startled. He was even shocked. 

"How?" he demanded. "I don't get you. "

The girl sprang from her chair in a movement of sup-pressed excitement. She came toward him, her eyes shining. A glorious ruddy tint shonethrough the tanning of her fair cheeks. She was good to look at, andBob felt the influence of her beauty at that moment just as he had feltit when, for her, he had first flung every worldly consideration to thefour winds. 

"Will you listen, Bob? Will you listen to me while I tell you allthat's been churning around in my head ever since you told me of thatreward? You must. You shall. I have lived through a sort ofpurgatory in these hills for too long not to make my voice heardnow--now when there's a chance of making our lives more tolerable. Oh, I've had a day while you've been away. It's been a day such as in mycraziest moments I've never even dreamed of. Bob, I've discovered whatthey've all been trying to discover for years. I've found Lightfoot'scamp!"

"And then?"

The girl's enthusiasm left her husband caught in a wave ofapprehension. He saw with a growing sense of horror the meaning ofthat sudden revolt. This was displayed in his manner. Nor was Effieunobservant of it. Nor unresentful. 

She shrugged her perfect shoulders with assumed unconcern. 

"That reward--those ten thousand dollars are mine--ours--if I choose. And--I do choose. "

There was no mistaking the firmness, the decision in her final words. They came deliberate and hard, and they roused the man to prompt andsharp denial. 

"You--do--not. "

He was no longer propped against the table. He was no longer gentle. He stood erect and angry, and their regard was eye to eye. But even sothere was no disputing the woman's dominance of personality. The man'seyes, for all their anger, conveyed not a tithe of the other'sdecision. His whole attitude was subjective to the poise of thewoman's beautiful head, her erect, sculptured shoulders. Her measuringeyes were full of a fine revolt. There was nothing comparable betweenthem--except their anger. 

"Who can stop me? You?"

The scornful challenge rang sharply through the little room. Then asilence fraught with intense moment followed upon its heels. 

The man nodded. His movement was followed by Effie's mocking laugh. 

Perhaps Bob realized the uselessness, the danger of retaining such anattitude. Perhaps his peculiar nature was unequal to the continuouseffort the position called for. In a moment he seemed to shrink beforethose straight gazing eyes, and the light of purpose behind them. Whenhe finally spoke a curious, almost pleading tone blended with thegenuine horror in his words. 

"No, no, Effie, you can't--you daren't!" he cried passionately. "Doyou know what you're doing? Do you know what that reward means toyou--to us? Look at your hands. They're clean, and soft, and white. Say, girl, that's blood money, blood money that'll surely stain themwith a crimson you'll never wash off 'em all your life. It's bloodmoney. Man's blood. Human blood. Just the same as runs through ourveins. Oh, say, girl, I've no sort of use for rustlers. They'recrooks, and maybe murderers. Guess they're everything you can thinkof, and a sight more. But they're men, and their blood's hot, warmblood the same as yours and mine. And you reckon to chaffer that bloodfor a price. You're going to sell it--for a price. You're going to domore. Yes. You're going to wreck a woman's conscience for life forthose filthy, blood-soaked dollars. The price? Effie, things aremighty hard with us. Maybe they're harder with you than me. But Ijust can't believe we've dropped so low we can sell the life blood ofeven a--murderer. I can't believe it. I just can't. That's all. Tell 'em, Effie. Tell 'em all you know and have discovered if youwill. Tell 'em in the cause of justice. But barter your soul andconscience for filthy blood money--I--bah! It makes me turn sick tothink that way. "

But Effie was in no mood to listen to the dictates of squeamishprinciples from a man who lacked the spirit and power--the will toraise her out of the mire of penury into which he had helped to plungeher. The hours of dreary, hopeless labor; the weeks and months ofdismal and grinding poverty had sunk deeply into her soul. No pricewas too high to pay to escape these things. In a moment her reply waspouring forth in a passionate torrent. 

"Blood money?" she cried. "Bob, you're crazier than I'd have thought. Where's the difference? I mean between handin' these folks over tojustice for justice sake, and taking the reward the folks who're mostto benefit by it are ready to hand out to me? Say, you can't talk thatway, Bob. You can't just do it. Aren't the folks who carry out thejustice in the land paid for it--from the biggest judge to the fellowwho handles the levers of the electric chair? Doesn't the country handout thousands of dollars every year for the punishment of offenders, whether it's for the shedding of their life blood, or merely theirheart's blood in the cruel horrors of a penitentiary? Do you think I'mgoing to hand out my secret to a bunch of cattlemen for their benefitand profit, and reap no comfort from it for myself in the miserablelife I'm condemned to endure? Your scruples are just crazy. They'reworse. They're selfish. You'd rather see me drudging all the bestmoments of my life away, so you can lounge around Ju Penrose's saloonspending dollars you've no right to, than risk your peace of mind on anhonest--yes, _honest_--transaction that's going to give me a little ofthe comfort that you haven't the grit to help me to yourself. "

The girl was carried away with the force of her own purpose andcraving. Every word she said was meant from the bottom of her soul. There was not a shadow of yielding. She had no illusions. For twoyears her heart had been hardening to its present condition, and shewould not give up one tittle of the chance that now opened out beforeher hungry eyes. 

Bob was clay in her hands. He was clay in any hands sufficientlydominating. He knew from the moment he had delivered his appeal, andhe had heard only the tones of her reply, that it was he who must yieldor complete irrevocably the barrier which had been steadily growing upbetween them. Just for a moment the weakly, obstinate thought hadoccurred of flinging everything to the winds and of denying her oncemore with all the force at his command. But the moment passed. Itfled before the charm of her presence, and the memory of the lovedwhich he was incapable of shutting out of his heart. He knew he wasright, and she was utterly wrong. But he knew, equally well, from herwords and attitude, that it was he who must give way, or----

He shook his head with a negative movement which Effie was quick enoughto realize meant yielding. She wanted him to yield. It would simplifyall her purpose. She desired that he should participate in thetransaction. 

"You'll regret it, Effie, " he said, in his usual easy tones. "You'llregret it so you'll hate to think of this moment all the rest of yourlife. It's not you talking, my dear, it's just--the experience you'vehad to go through. Can't you see? You've never been like this before. And it isn't you. Say, I'd give my right hand it you'd quit the wholething. "

But the girl's resolution was unwavering. 

"You--still refuse--to countenance it?" she demanded. 

Again Bob shook his head. But now he moved away and struck a match torelight his pipe. 

"No, " he said. Then he slowly puffed out great clouds of smoke. "No, my dear, if you're bent on it. " Then he moved to the cook-stove andsupported one foot upon it. 

"Say--you guess I'm selfish. You guess I haven't acted as I ought tohelp push our boat along. You reckon I've become a sort ofsaloon-loafing bum. Guess you sort of think I'm just about the limit. Well, maybe I'm nothing to shriek about. However, I've told you all Ifeel. I've told you what you're going to feel--later. Meanwhile it'sup to me to help you all I know. Tell me the whole thing, and I'll dothe business for you. I'll see Dug McFarlane for you, and fix things. But it's on one condition. "

"What is it?"

Something of the coldness had passed from the girl's eyes. She wassmiling because she had achieved her purpose. 

"Why--just this. That I don't touch one single dollar of the priceyou're to receive for those poor devils' blood. That's all. "

Just for a moment a dull flush surged up under the tan of the girl'scheeks, and her eyes sparkled ominously. Then she returned to herrocker with great deliberation. 

"You're crazy, Bob, " she said frigidly, but without any other display. "Still--just sit around, and--I'll tell you it all. "

And while the man listened to the story of his wife's adventures hismind went back to the scene in Ju Penrose's saloon, and the denial hehad flung so heatedly at that philosophic cynic. 

CHAPTER V

THE HANGING BEE

Dug McFarlane was a picturesque creature. He was big in height andgirth. He was also big in mind. And, which was much more important tothe people of the Orrville ranching world, big in purse. He wasgrizzled and gray, and his eyes beamed out of a setting which wassurely made for such beaming; a setting which possessed no sharp anglesor disfiguring hollows, but only the healthy tissue of a well-nourishedand wholesome-living man in middle life. 

As he sat his horse, beside his station foreman, gazing out at thebroken line of foothills which marked the approach to the barrier ofmountains cutting against the blue, he seemed to display in his bearingsomething of that dominating personality which few successful men areentirely without. All about them lay the heavy-railed corrals of adistant out-station. Just behind stood the rough shanty, which was thebunkhouse for the cowhands employed in this region. The doctor wasstill within, tending the grievously injured man who had been so badlywounded in the previous night's raid by the rustlers. 

For the time Dug's beaming eyes were shadowed with a concern that washalf angry and wholly depressed. They searched the rolling grass-landuntil the distance was swallowed up by the barrier of hills. He wasseeking one reassuring glimpse of the black, hornless herd whosepastures these were. But only disappointment met him on every side. The beautiful, sleek, Aberdeen-Angus herd, which was his joy and pride, had vanished. They had gone, he knew. They had gone the same waythat, during the last five years, hundreds of head of his stock hadgone. It was the last straw. 

"Say, Lew Hank, " he said, in a voice of something approaching anemotion he possessed no other means of displaying, "it's beat me bad. It's beat me so bad I don't seem able to think right. We'd a hundredhead running on this station. As fine a bunch as ever were bred fromthe old country's strain. I just feel that mad I could set right in tobreak things. "

Then, after a long pause during which the station foreman waited silent:

"And only last night, while these guys was raising the mischief righthere, I was setting around doping out big talk, and raising a mightybig wad for the round-up of the whole darnation gang. Can you beat it?I'm sore. Sore as hell. Say, tell it me again. I don't seem to haveit clear. "

He passed one great muscular hand across his moist forehead, and thegesture was rather one of helplessness. 

Lew Hank regarded him with measuring eyes. He knew him so well. Inthe ten years and more he had worked for him he had studied his everymood. This phase in the great cattleman's character was something new, something rather startling. Dug's way was usually volcanic. It washot and fierce for a while, generally to hollowed by a hearty laugh, rather like the passing of a summer storm. But this, in Lew's opinion, was a display of weakness. A sign he neither liked nor respected. Thetruth was Dug McFarlane had been hit in a direction of which hissubordinate had no understanding. That herd of Aberdeen-Angus cattlehad been his plaything. His hobby. He had been devoted to it in a waythat would have been absurd to any one but a cattleman. Hank decidedthis unaccustomed weakness must be nipped in the bud. 

"Say, boss, it ain't no use in squealin', " he grumbled, in the hardtones of a man who yields to no feelings of sympathy. Hisweather-stained face was set and ugly in its expression. "Wher's theuse in it anyway?" he demanded. "Get a look around. There's miles ofterritory, an' all of it runs into them blamed hills. I got three boyswith me. They're right boys, too. I don't guess there's a thing youor me could tell 'em 'bout their work. Not a thing. Day and night oneof 'em's on grazin' guard. Them beasties ain't never left to trail offinto the hills. Wal, I guess that's all we ken do--sure. Say, youcan't hold up a gang of ten an' more toughs with a single gun in thedead, o' night, 'specially with a hole in your guts same as youngSyme's had bored into his. I ain't ast once, nor twice, to hev thembeasties run into the corrals o' nights, and fed hay, same as inwinter. I've ast it fifty times. It's bin up to you, boss. So I sayit's no use in squealin'. "

Hank spat over his horse's shoulder, and his thin lips closed with asnap. He was a lean forceful prairieman who possessed, as he wouldhimself have said, no parlor tricks. Dug McFarlane, for all hiswealth, for all he had been elected president of the Western UnionCattle Breeders' Association three years in succession, was no more tohim than any other employer who paid wages for work loyally performed. 

Dug regarded his foreman with close attention. He ignored the man'srough manner. But, nevertheless, it was not without effect. 

"And the other boys?"

"Was dead asleep in the bunkhouse--same as me. What 'ud you have?They ain't sheep dogs. "

Dug took no umbrage. 

"And they're out on the trail--right now?"

"Sure. Same as we should be, 'stead o' wastin' hot air around here. Say, I guess you're feelin' sore. But I don't guess your feelin's is acircumstance to mine, boss. You ain't bin beat to your face by thislousy gang. I have. An' say, I'm yearnin'--jest gaspin'--to wipe outthe score. I don't sort o' care a bit for your loss. That ain't myfuneral. But they've beat me plumb out--same as if I was some suckerwho ain't never roped an' branded a three-year-old steer since I waspupped. Are you comin' along? They struck out northwest. We gotthat, an' the boys is follerin' hard on their trail. It'll be better'nsquealin' around here. "

There could be no doubt about the man's feelings. They were displayedin every word he spoke. In every glance of his fierce eyes. Dugapproved him. His manners were nothing. Lew was probably the mostcapable cattleman in his service. 

He was about to follow his foreman who had swung his horse about to setoff northward, when he abruptly flung out an arm, pointing. 

"That one of your boys--coming in? Maybe----"

Lew screwed up his eyes in the sunlight. His rep came in a moment. 

"Maybe--nuthin'. That ain't one of my boys. " Then, after a brief, considering pause, in which he narrowly examined the distant horseman'soutfit: "Sort o' rec'nize him, too. Likely he's that bum guy with thedandy wife way up on Butte Creek. Whitstone, ain't it? Feller withswell folks way down east, an' who guesses the on'y sort o' farmin'worth a cuss is done in Ju Penrose's saloon. That's him sure, " headded, as the man drew nearer. Then he went on musingly. "I guesshe's got a lot to dope out. Say, them guys must have passed near byhis shanty. "

Bob Whitstone reined his pony up with a jerk. He was on a mission thatinspired no other emotion than that of repulsion and self-loathing. And these things found reflection in his good-looking face. 

He glanced swiftly from one to the other as he confronted the burlyrancher and his station foreman. The latter he did not know, nor washe interested in him. The man he had come to see was Dug McFarlane, who claimed from him, as he did from every man in the district, something in the nature of respect. 

"Guess you'll remember me, sir, " he began, in his easy, refined tones. "My name is Whitstone--Bob Whitstone. You granted me certain grazingrights awhile back. It was some two years ago. Maybe you'll remember. You did it to help me out. Anyway, I came over to see you this morningbecause--I must. If you can spare half an hour I want to see youprivately. It's--important. You've been robbed last night, and--it'sabout them. The gang, I mean. "

His pony was still blowing. Bob had ridden hard. He had first riddeninto Orrville, and then followed the rancher out here. He was leaningover in the saddle lounging upon the horn of it. His eyes were gazingcuriously, speculatively at the figure of the man who ruled the localcattle industry. He was calculating in his own way what might be theeffect of the news he had to impart. What estimate this big man--andBob knew him to be a big man--would have of him when he had told hisnews and claimed the--blood money? With each moment he shrank smallerand smaller in his own estimation. 

Dug regarded him steadily. 

"You've got news of them?"

Bob nodded, and glanced meaningly in the direction of Lew Hank. 

"I've seen 'em. But--it's more than that. "

The rancher turned quickly upon his foreman. 

"Say, just get along into the shack there, and see how the Doc's makingwith young Syme. I need a talk with Whitstone. "

It was not without obvious and resentful reluctance that Lew Hankwithdrew. Even his hardihood, however, was unequal to resisting sodirect an order from his chief. 

The two men watched him out of earshot. Then Dug, with almostprecipitate haste, turned back to his visitor. 

"Now, sir, I'm ready to hear anything you need to tell me. "

But Bob was thinking of Ju Penrose as he had thought of him many timessince he had listened and yielded to Effie's appeal. Every man has hisprice. Bob knew now that he, like the rest, had his price. That pricea woman had set for him. Ju was right--hatefully right. Well, hewould now refuse to be robbed of one cent of it. 

He looked up sharply as the other made his demand. 

"You're offering ten thousand dollars reward for the| capture of theLightfoot gang, Mr. McFarlane?"

"That's so. "

The rancher's regard had deepened. There was a curious light shiningin his blue eyes. It was half speculative, half suggestive of growingexcitement. It was wholly full of a burning interest. 

"Say, I'd just like to know how I stand. " Bob laughed that short hardlaugh which bears no trace of mirth. "You see, I can put you wise. Ican lead you right on to their camp so you can get 'em--while they'resleeping, or any other old way. Oh, yes, I'm ready to play my partright up to the limit. It don't matter a thing. I'm not just here totell you about things. I'm here to lead you to that camp, and take ahand in the hanging when you get busy. You see, I'm a whole hogger. But I want to know how things stand about that ten thousand dollarreward. Do I get it? If I get shot up does my wife get it? And whenit's paid, do you shout about it? Does the gang down Orrville way needto know who it was they forgot to hand the name of Judas to when he waschristened? I don't care a cuss on my own account. It's----"

But Dug McFarlane broke in upon the bitter raillery. He had no thoughtfor the man or his feelings, just for one moment it seemed to him thatsome sort of miracle had happened. And his every thought and feelingwas absorbed in it. Here, after five years of vain effort, here, afterfive years of depredations which had almost threatened the cattleindustry in the district with complete crippling, here was a man whocould lead them to the raiders' hiding-place, could show them how thehanging they all so cordially desired could be brought about. It wasstupendous. It was--yes, it was miraculous. 

His first impulse had been to give way to the excitement which stirredhim, but he restrained himself. 

"Ten thousand dollars will be paid by me to the man, or his nominee, privately, if his information leads to the hanging of this gang. Say, boy, we ain't goin' to split hairs or play any low games on this layout. I'm a rich man, an' ten thousand dollars ain't a circumstance sowe break up this gang. If we only get one of 'em or part of 'em, theman who shows me their hiding-place, and leads me to it, that man--orhis wife--gets my ten thousand dollars. You can have it in writing. But my word goes any old time. Now you can get busy and hand me theproposition. "

The steady eyes, the emphatic tones of this big, straight-dealingrancher silenced the last doubt in Bob's lesser mind. He was out to dothis dirty work with all his might in the interest of the woman who hadinspired it. But he had scarcely been prepared for such simple methodsas this man displayed. He had felt that it was for him to barter, toscheme, to secure the dollars Effie coveted. A deep sigh escaped him. It may have been relief. It may have been of regret that he must standbefore so straight-dealing a personality claiming his thirty pieces ofsilver. 

He passed one hand across his perspiring brow and thrust his prairiehat farther back upon his head. He would have preferred, however, tohave drawn it down over his eyes to escape the searching gaze from thehonest depths of the other's. Suddenly, with a gesture of impatience, he began to talk rapidly. 

"It's no use, Mr. McFarlane, I hate this rotten work, " he cried out. "I--I hate it so bad I could just rather bite my tongue out than tellyou the things I've got to. It's rotten. I don't know---- Say, youdon't know me, and I don't guess you care a curse anyway. But I wasbrought up in a city and taught to believe things were a deal betterthan I've lately come to think they are. Psha! These fellers have gotto be hanged when and where we get them. But it hurts me bad to thinkthat I've got to take dollars for handing you their lives. Oh, thatdon't tell you a thing either. You'd say I don't need to take 'em. But I do. I got to take those dollars, if they blister my hands andburn the bones inside 'em. I've got to have 'em, and I'd like to burn'em, every blazing one. But I've got to have 'em. Say, I'll be paidon the nail when the job's done? If I get shot up the money'll be paidto my wife? Will you give me your word, sir? Your word of honor?"

"My word of honor. "

"Say, then come right back with me to my shanty no, best not. We'llride back to Orrville, and I'll hand you all I know as we go. I canquit you before we reach the township. Then you can hustle the crowdtogether and I'll be waiting ready at my shack to play my part--thedirty rotten Judas racket. "

"Judas betrayed his--Master and Friend. Are these people your friends?Is Lightfoot your master?"

"Heavens! What d'you take me for--a rustler?"

"Then quit your crazy talk of Judas. Your duty's plumb clear. Yourduty's to hand these folks, these bandits, into our hands. The money'sa matter of--choice. I'll just hand my man a word or two, and we'llget back Orrville way. "

 * * * * * *

It was past midnight when Bob took up a position squatting on the sillof his own doorway. Standing close behind him, leaning against therough casing, Effie looked down upon his huddled figure. Her eyes werealight with a power of suppressed excitement. The blood was surgingthrough her young veins, and every nerve was tense with the strain ofwaiting, of anticipation. 

But her emotions were by no means shared by her husband. For all herbeauty and woman's charm she was different, utterly different from him. She had been brought up to the understanding that she would have tomake her own way in the world. All her parents had been able to do forher was to see that she was as fully equipped for the adventure of lifeas their limited means would permit. Those means would die when herchief parent died, and the style in which they had lived left no marginfor saving. 

So, with cool calculation, Effie had set about her life's effort. Norhad she considered herself unsuccessful in the first spreading of hermaiden wings. A millionaire's son! It was a splendid match. It hadmet with the entire approval of her family. 

Then had come disillusionment. A determined opposition from Bob'sfather. She had been urged to break off the engagement. She evenintended to do so. But some how she had miscalculated the nature whichher education had been powerless to eradicate. She realized at lastwhen the demands of her campaign made themselves heard, that there wassomething she had hitherto completely ignored. There was the woman'sheart of her. She had most absurdly fallen in love with this firststepping-stone toward the goal of her ambition. It was the absurduncalculating love of extreme youth. But it was sufficiently impetuousto flout all the reason which her training and upbringing had beencalculated to inspire her with. 

The rest followed in natural sequence, and now, after two years ofmarried penury, she was ready to seize any straw which chance flung inher way as a means of salving that ambition which she now saw, withmore perfectly clear vision, was completely upon the rocks. 

Now, in her mind, there were only three matters of concern. Would DugMcFarlane come? Would they succeed in capturing this Lightfoot gang?Would she get those ten thousand dollars, which appeared so vast a sumto eyes only accustomed to dwelling upon cents?

Bob was silent. His whole aspect seemed to have undergone a completechanges. He had returned to her with the story of his interview withDug McFarlane. He had returned to her with the assurance that he hadsold his conscience, his honor, at her bidding, and he hoped she wassatisfied. Since then he had wrapped himself in a moody silence whichhad defied her utmost effort to break down. 

The horses stood ready saddled in the barn. Effie was clad in herriding suit. As yet the moon had not risen to reduce the starlitmagnificence of the velvet summer night sky. Nor was there any soundto warn them that the hours of suspense were nearly over. 

Finally, Effie could endure the silence no longer. Her dark eyes wereintently gazing down upon the bowed figure of the man. They were hardwith every bitter woman's emotion. She was full of a fierce, hotresentment against the man who could so obstinately resist the spiritof her longing. 

"Bob, " she cried at last, all restraint completely giving way, "do youknow what I could do just now more willingly than anything else in theworld? I could thrust out my foot and spurn you with it as you mightany surly cur which barred your way. I tell you I'm hot with everyfeeling of contempt for your crazy attitude. You dare to set yourselfand your moral scruples between my welfare and the miserable lifeyou've condemned me to. Your moral scruples. Were there ever suchthings? Morals? Ju Penrose's saloon day and night--for you. Thesluttish drudgery of this wretched place for me. Then you dare toplace your conscience before my--comfort. "

"Do I?"

The man did not look up. His brooding eyes were on the sky-line to thesoutheast. 

"I've done as you needed. I've arranged everything with the--hangman. You're going to touch those pleasant dollars. What more are you askingme?"

"What more? Yes, you've done these things because I've driven you tothem. You? You'd rather see me sitting around here starving, a wornwreck of a woman, than lend a willing hand to bettering our lot. Oh, yes, you've done these things, and--I hate you for the way you've donethem. "

The man sat up. He shifted his position so that he could gaze up atthe splendid creature standing over him. 

"You don't hate me worse than I hate myself, Effie, " he said with anexasperating lack of emotion. "Say, you feel like kicking me. Youfeel like treating me like a surly cur. Well, I guess you're welcome. I don't guess there's a thing you can do that way can hurt me worsethan you've done already. " Then he smiled. And his smile was moremaddening to the woman than his words. "Don't worry a thing. You'regoing to get your dollars if there's anything I can do to help you, andwhen you've got 'em--why, if the merciful God we've both been broughtup to believe in is all we believe Him, I shan't be around to watch youdirtying your hands with them. "

Then with a swift, alert movement he raised a warning hand. 

"H'sh!"

For some seconds they remained listening. Far away to the southeast alow murmuring note came over the low hills. The girl remained witheyes straining to pierce the starlit monotone. The man rose slowlyfrom his seat. Finally he turned about and faced her, and his eyessmiled into hers. 

"The hanging bee, " he said. 

CHAPTER VI

THE RAIDERS RAIDED

It was the gap where the screen of bush broke off, leaving the barrenshoulder overlooking the valley. It was where the hard-beaten, converging cattle-paths hurled themselves over the brink to the widedepths below. 

The stillness that prevailed was unbroken by a single night sound. Even the insect life seemed wrapped in a deep hush of somnolence. Asyet the night scavengers had not emerged from their hidings to bay thesilvery radiance of a moonlit night. The deep hush beneath the myriadof eyes of night was as beautiful as it was treacherous, for it onlycloaked hot, stirring passions ready in a moment to break out intowarring chaos. 

Crouching low under the shelter of the screening bush three figureshuddled closely. They were peering across the wide gulf, searchingwith eyes that only half read what lay before them in the starlight. Their gaze rested upon one definite spot whose shadowy outline wasindicated by the outstretched arm of one of the party. It was a deepwoodland bluff, leaning, as it seemed, for support against the far wallof the valley's western slope. 

After some tense moments the straining eyes beheld the faintest glimmerof artificial light flickering in the depths of its silent heart. Sofaint was it, at the distance, that, for a while, doubt prevailed. Then conviction supervened as each of the watchers recorded hisobservation and a sigh of certitude made itself heard. The point oflight was held by all. It was dwelt upon. It was the verificationneeded to convey absolute faith in the woman's tale miraculous. 

Perhaps it was the light in some window of a secret abode. Perhaps itwas the steady flicker of an unscreened camp-fire. Perhaps, even, itwas the beam of some lantern carelessly set down and left alight. Whatever it was it was certainly of human agency, and human agency inthese regions had only one interpretation for the minds of those whowere watching from the high eastern wall of the valley. 

Presently a woman's voice spoke in the hush of suppressed excitement. Her tone was full of an eagerness that hurled her words swiftly uponthe still night air. 

"That's where I marked them down, " she whispered. "There--just there. Right where that light's shining. Somewhere in the heart of thatbluff. There was a herd grazing out in front, with three mounted menguarding it. There's no mistake. It's a bee-line right across. Andthe men who fired up this way came out of those trees. It's steep downthese paths. They sort of zigzag their way, but it's a path any horsecan make without danger. It just needs care. Once in the valley it'sa stretch of sweet-grass without a bluff or a break of any sort. There's no slough either. It's just grass. One big flat ofsweet-grass. "

There was no reply from her companions. They were engrossed with theobject of their straining scrutiny. Presently the woman went on again. 

"This is where my work quits, " she said. Then she withdrew her gazeand looked up at the dim outline of the big man nearest her. There wasjust a shade of eagerness in her manner now. "That's Lightfoot's camp, Mr. McFarlane, " she assured. "I've done all that's needed. You see, I'm a woman, and I don't guess you need anything more from me. Shall Istop right here, or--get back to home?"

Bob Whitstone was watching his wife closely as she addressed herself tothe rancher. He noted her tone, her evident anxiety now, and heunderstood. A curious repulsion surged through him. In the brief twoyears of his married life no such sensation had ever possessed him. But he recognized it. It was the breaking point. Effie no longer heldplace in his affections. He glanced up at McFarlane as his deep toneswhispered in the silence. 

"Yes, ma'am, get right back to home. There's no need for you to getmussed up with what's goin' to happen. It's man's work, not a woman's. Your husband's got my word. You'll find we aren't forgetful. "

Then he drew back under cover, and moved away to where, scattered alongthe path, well sheltered from view, a large party of dismountedhorsemen were awaiting his orders. 

Effie turned to her husband. 

"You're coming back with me, Bob?" she said, almost pleadingly. "It'sa long way to home. "

Bob's eyes gazed straight into hers. Even in the darkness Effie feltsomething of the coldness of his regard. 

"Are you scared?" he demanded. 

Effie shook her head. 

"There's nothing to be scared at. But you've nothing to do with--therest of it. "

"Haven't I?"

"You're not going down there with them?"

There was a curious sharpness in the woman's whispering voice. Bob'scold regard remained unwavering. 

"I'm leaving nothing to chance. You've got to get your wages. I'mgoing to see you get them. Yes, I'm going--down there. "

A sudden fierce passion swept through the woman's heart. Hot words inretort surged to her lips. But they remained unuttered. A strongeffort of restraint checked them. She turned away coldly, her eyesfocussing once more upon the tiny point of light across the hollow. 

"Guess you must do as you think, " she said, with a shrug. And sheremained with her back turned upon the man she was destined never toaddress again. 

Bob moved away and joined the rest of the Vigilantes. They werealready in the saddle. Dug McFarlane had given his final orders. In amoment Bob surveyed the scene in the dim light. Then he turned away tohis own horse and sprang into the saddle. 

McFarlane saw him and rode up. 

"You coming along?" he enquired curiously. 

"Sure. "

"Good boy. " Then he drew a deep breath. "Maybe there'll be an emptysaddle or two before we've done. But I don't guess that'll need toworry us any. The man who 'passes in' to-night won't have any kickcomin'. It's better that way--with your duty done. "

"Yes. "

The simple monosyllable was strangely expressive, but Dug McFarlane hadno understanding of the thought that prompted it. It would have beendifficult indeed, even with understanding, to have probed the depths offeeling prompting it. But Whitstone was incapable of seeing thebroader aspect of anything pertaining to himself. He saw only as hisfeelings dictated, without logic or reason of any sort. He was of thatnature which leans for support upon prejudices absorbed in early youth. Principles inculcated through early environment and teaching. He wasincapable of testing or questioning their verity. Robbed of them hewas left floundering. And Effie, the woman whom he had married onlyout of hot, youthful human regard, had so robbed him. 

Effie drew back. She pressed herself close into the bush as thecavalcade sought the path at the edge of the valley. She watched theburly leader vanish over the brink. Then, one by one, twenty-fiveothers passed her in review, and were swallowed up by the depths below. She knew none of them personally, but she knew they were all ranchersand ranchmen of varying degree. She knew that each individual had atsome time suffered at the hands of the rustlers. That deep in eachheart was the craving for a vengeance which possessed small enoughthought of justice in it. These men were Vigilantes. They were socalled not from any desire to enforce law and order, but purely fortheir own self-defense, the defending of self-interests. 

They impressed her not from any justice of motive, but from themerciless purpose upon which they were bent. 

The last to pass over the brink was her husband, a slight figure, almost puny, amongst these hard prairie folk. Just for one weak momentshe was on the point of raising a protesting voice. Just for onemoment a womanly softening held her yielding. He was her husband, andmemories crowded. But almost as they were born they died. Their placewas once more taken by the recollection of the life she had been forcedto endure for the sake of her first youthful passion. Her hearthardened. No impulse had driven her to her present actions. They werethe result of a craving she was powerless to resist. Her husband mustgo his way. He must act as he saw fit. For herself she would notforego one tithe of the reward which she believed would help her tothat comfort in life for which her soul yearned. 

With the passing of the Vigilantes she moved clear of the bush. Shewould see this out. Home? She had no desire for her home. The nighthad no terrors for her. Nothing had terror for her, except the failureof these men. 

She flung herself upon the ground and lay with wide eyes searching theremoteness of the valley beyond. Her impatience had developed intosomething almost feverish. She wanted a sign. She wanted assurance. But the world seemed so still, so entirely peaceful. 

The moments pursued for her a sluggish course. The jeweled sky was anadded regret. She desired light, light that she might witness thewhole drama she hoped--yes, hoped--would be played out down there inthe valley. A sort of dementia had taken possession of her. She hadno thought of the blood to be poured out at her bidding. She thoughtnothing of the strong lives to be given up in sacrifice for herwell-being. She thought only of herself, and all that the success ofthat night's affairs would mean to her. 

But the dragging minutes extending upward of half an hour wore herfever down. And slowly depression replaced her more tense emotions. It all seemed so long in happening that failure began to loom, and tobecome a certainty. 

It was too good to hope. Ten thousand dollars! The amount bulked inher mind. It grew greater and greater in its significance as delaythrust hope further and further from her thought. Again impatiencegrew, hot, angry impatience, and drove depression out. What were theydoing down there? Why did they not surround the bluff? There wereenough of them. Look! The light was still shining. It was the camp. Where that light shone the men lay in hiding. Well--it was simple. Toher mind there was no need for----

The sound of a rifle shot split the air with significant abruptness. The sound banished the last of her half-angry causing. The moment hadcome. She raised herself up for no other reason than tense drawnsuspense. 

A second shot. Then a rattle of musketry which suggested generalconflict. She drew a deep breath. Far away in the distance it seemedshe heard a sharp cry. It was the final shriek of a human creature inthe agony of a mortal wound. Then followed the sound of hoarse voicesshouting. 

For some moments nothing in the scene changed. The speck of lightshone out twinkling and gleaming like some evil eye. For therest--there remained the deep twilight marked by the myriads of summerstars. 

But the cries of men, the trampling of speeding hoofs held her. Thebreathlessness of the whole thing was upon her now, making itimpossible to detach her regard from the main features. 

The rattle of rifles had become almost incessant. And a few momentslater a blaze of light shot up from the far side of the bluff. Itgrew, licking up the great, sun-dried, resinous pine wood withparalyzing rapidity. Another great sheet of flame soared upwardfurther away to the right. Then another to the south. A fire trap hadbeen set at the far side of the great bluff, and only the hither sideremained open to those seeking shelter within it. 

Effie's gaze was fascinated beyond her control. The Vigilantes hadplanned their coup deliberately and well. The air she was breathingbegan to reek with the pungent smell of burning. A light smoke hazebegan to flood the picture. Now she beheld moving figures in the luridglow which backed the scene. They were horsemen. But whether or notthey were the Vigilantes she could not be certain. They were racingacross the open, and the crack of their rifles mingled with thespluttering crackle of the conflagration beyond. 

Never for one moment did the woman withdraw her gaze. The spell of itall was almost painful. She knew that life and death were at gripsdown there in that cauldron of conflict. And though at momentsshudders passed through her body, they were neither shudders ofweakness nor womanish horror. Her only emotion was excitement, and hernerves were ready to respond in physical expression to every vision hereyes communicated to them. 

An hour passed thus. The bluff was a furnace, roaring, booming. Itlit the valley seemingly from end to end. The night shadows had beenswept aside, and the scene lay spread out before her eyes. She sawdismounted riders moving about. She beheld one group; a number of menhuddled together, held as though they were prisoners. 

At last firing altogether ceased and the straggling horsemen began toreassemble in the vicinity of the chief group. Then, as the ragingfire ate its way through to the hither side of the bluff, and turnedthe final barrier into a wall of fire, the whole party moved away downthe valley with obvious signs of haste. 

Effie gazed after them with widening eyes while the hot breath of theconflagration fanned her cheeks. She was wondering, speculating, andslowly the significance of their movements began to take hold of her. 

At first she had thought that the movement was inspired by theoverpowering heat of the forest fire. She had warned herself of thedanger. The grass down there. The flying sparks. But almost in thesame breath she realized that there was more, far more in thatmovement. The grass was far too green in the valley to form any realdanger and the bluff was sufficiently isolated. No, there was more init than the danger of fire. 

She shivered, although the night air now possessed something of thetemperature of a summer noon. All her excitement had passed. She hadeven forgotten for the time all that the doings of that night meant toher. She was thinking of the deliberate administration of justice asthese men understood it. It was crude, deadly, and full of a painfulhorror, and now, now, in saner moments, she beheld the dawn of emotionswhich had come all too late. Whither were those men riding? Whither?And then? Ah--she shuddered, and her shudder was full of realization. For well she knew that the men she had seen grouped were livingprisoners. Living prisoners. How long would they remain so? Whatwould be their end?

CHAPTER VII

OUTLAND JUSTICE

The noon sun sweltered down through the rank vegetation of the narrowdefile. The heat was almost too burdensome to endure. It was moist;it was dank with the reek of decaying matter. The way was a seeminglyendless battle against odds. But the travelers were buoyed with theknowledge that it was a short cut, calculated to save them many hoursand many miles. 

Bud Tristram had pointed the way. Furthermore, he had urged Jeff toaccept and endure the tortures and shortcomings which he knew they mustface in the heart of this remote gulch. 

Nor were his warnings unneeded, for Nature had set up no inconsiderabledefenses. Here were swarms of over-grown mosquitoes of a peculiarlyvicious type, which covered their horses' flanks in a gray horde, almost obliterating their original colors; and a bleeding mass resultedevery time either man raised a hand to the back of his own neck tosoothe the fierce irritation of the vicious attacks. Then the wayitself. It was a narrow gorge almost completely occupied by the muddybed and boggy shores of a drying mountain creek. 

It was, in Jeff's own words, a "fierce journey. " The heat left themdrenched in perspiration, and wiltering. The two packhorses fought fortheir very lives, often hock deep in a sucking mire. While the beasts, who bore the burden of their exacting masters, were driven to battleevery inch of the way against a fiercely obstinate rampart of densegrown bush. 

Mercifully the gorge was less than three miles in length. A greaterdistance must have left the nervous equine mind staggered, andhelpless, and beaten. As it was nearly three hours of incessantstruggle only served to pass the final barrier. 

"Phew!"

Jeff Masters drew off his hat as they emerged upon the wide opening ofa great valley. Then he flung himself out of the saddle and began tosweep the blood-inflated mosquitoes from his horse's flanks. Bud, withless haste, proceeded to do the same. Finally, both men walked roundthe weary beasts and examined the security of the packs on the ledhorses. 

Bud pointed down the valley with one outstretched arm. 

"We'll make that way, " he said, his deep eyes dwelling almostaffectionately upon the wide stretch of blue-tinted grass. "Guesswe'll take the high land an' camp fer food. "

Then he turned back to his horse and remounted. Jeff silently followedhis example and they rode on. 

For many minutes no word passed between them. Each was busy with hisown particular thoughts. The deep look of friendly affection was stillin Bud's eyes. Jeff was far less concerned with the wonderful sceneslowly unfolding itself as they proceeded than with the purpose of hisjourney. He knew they had reached the central point from which theywere to radiate their search of the labyrinth of hills. His mind wasupon the wealth of possibility before them. The difficulties. Bud, for the time at least, was concerned only with that which his eyesbeheld, and the memories of other days far, far back when he hadpossessed no greater responsibility than the quest of adventure, andhis own safe delivery from the fruits of his unwisdom. 

It was he who first broke the silence between them. 

"Gee!" he exclaimed, with that curious note of appreciation which thatejaculation can assume. "It's big. Say, Jeff, it's big an' good tolook on. Sort of makes you think, too, don't it? Jest get a peek thatway. Them slopes. " He indicated the western boundary of the valleyrising up, up to great pine-crested heights. "A thousand--two thousandfeet. And hills beyond. Big hills, with snows you couldn't meltanyhow. Over there, too. " One great hand waved in the direction ofthe east. "Lesser hills. Lesser woods. But--man, it's fine! Thenahead. Miles an' miles of this queer blue grass which sets fat oncattle inches deep. "

His words ceased, but his eyes continued to feast, flooding the simplebrain behind them with a joy which no words could describe. Presentlyhe went on:

"Makes you feel A'mighty God's a pretty big feller, don't it? Guess Hejest tumbles things around, an' sets up, an' levels down in a way thatwouldn't mean a thing to brains like ours--till He's finished it all, and sort of swep' up tidy. Look at them colors, way up there to thewest. Queer? Sure. Every sort o' blamed color in a tangle no earthlypainter could set out. Ain't it a pictur'? It's jest a sort o'pictur' a painter feller's li'ble to spend most of his wholesome nightsdreamin' about. An' when he wakes up, why, I don't guess he kin eventhink like it, an' he sure ain't a hell of a chance to paint that wayanyhow. Say, d'you make it these things are, or is it jest somethingHe sets in us makes us see 'em that way? He's big--He surely is. I'mglad I come along with you, Jeff, boy. Y' see, a feller sort o' sitsaround home, an' sees the same grass, an' brands the same steers, an'thinks the same thinks. Ther' ain't nothin' he don't know around home. He gets so life don't seem a thing, an' he jest feels he's runningthings so as he pleases. He sort o' fergets he's jest a part o' thescenery around. He fergets he's set in that scenery by an A'mighty bigHand, same as them all-fired m'squitters we just found, an' kind o'guesses he is that A'mighty Hand. " He turned his deeply smiling eyeson his companion. "I don't often take on like this, Jeff, " heapologized, "but the sight o' this place makes me want to shout an' getright out an' thank the good God He's seen fit to let me sit around an'live. "

But Jeff had no means of simple expression such as Bud. He could nevergive verbal expression to the emotions locked away in his heart. Thosewho knew him regarded it as reserve, even hardness. Perhaps it wasonly that shyness which the strongest characters are often most proneto. 

He ignored the older man's quaintly expressed feelings, and fastenedupon the opening he had at last received, and which he had been seekingever since it had become obvious that Bud's knowledge of the greatCathill range was almost phenomenal. 

"You know these parts a heap, " he observed. 

"Know 'em?" Bud laughed in his deep-throated way, which was onlyanother indication of his buoyant mood. "You'd know 'em, boy, if you'dhad a father build up a big pelt trading post right in this valley, an'fer sixteen years o' your life you'd ridden, an' shot, an' hunted overthis blue grass, and these hills, for nigh a range of fifty mile. Guess I know this territory same as you know the playgrounds o' thecollege that handed you your knowledge o' figgers. Know it? Say, youcould dump me right down anywhere around here for fifty miles an' more, an' I'd travel straight here same as the birds fly. " He laughed again. "When you said you'd the notion of huntin' out your brother, who washuntin' these hills, you give me the excuse I'd been yearnin' to findin years. I wanted to see these hills again. I wanted it bad. GuessI was jest crazy fer it. It didn't get me figgerin' long, either, tolocate wher' we'd likely find that boy you're lookin' fer. Ther' ain'tno better huntin' ground than around this valley. It's sort ofuntouched since my father died, an' I had to quit it and take topunchin' cattle. Then ther's that post he built. A dandy place, withnigh everything a pelt hunter needs fer his comfort. We're making forthat post right now, an' when we make it I'm guessin' we ain't goin' tochase much farther to locate that twin brother of yours. "

"But you never----"

Bud shook his great head, and stretched his ungainly legs with hisstirrups thrust out wide. 

"Sure I didn't tell you these things, " he nodded, in simple, almostchildlike enjoyment. 

"I never---- Say, does Nan know you were--raised here?"

"Surely. " Then Bud went on with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "But Iguess Nan's like me. It ain't our way worryin' other folks with ourtroubles. You see, most folks ain't a heap o' time to listen to otherfolks' troubles. Most everybody's jest yearnin' to tell their own. "

"Troubles?" Jeff smiled in his own peculiarly shadowy fashion. "Youdon't seem to figure this valley's any sort of trouble, nor itsassociations. But maybe there's a bone or two hidden around you don'tfigure to show me. "

Bud remained silent for some moments. Then he gave way to another ofhis joyous, deep-throated laughs. 

"No, sirree! Ther' ain't no troubles to this valley fer me. None. Igot memories I wouldn't sell fer a farm. Them wer' days you didn'tfind trouble in nothin'. No. It's later on you see things diff'rent. Make good, an' you see troubles wher' there shouldn't be none. You an'me we're guessin' to make a pile o' dollars, so we could set up apalace on 5th Av'noo, New York, if we was yearnin' that-a-way. I don'treckon there's many fellers 'ud find trouble in such a play as that. Wal, I'd be willing enough to turn it all down, an' pitch camp righthere among these hills, an' chase pelts for the few dollars needed tokeep the wind from rattling my bones--'cep' fer Nan. "

"Ah yes--Nan. There's Nan to think of. And Nan's more to you, Bud, than anything else in life. Say, your little girl's a bright jewel. Idon't need to say a word about her value, eh? But some day you'regoing to lose her. And then?"

Bud's eyes came round upon him and for some moments encountered Jeff'ssteady regard. Then he looked away, and slowly all its simple delightdropped from the strong weather-tanned face, to be replaced by analmost painful dejection. Presently he turned again, and, in a moment, Jeff found an added interest in the wonderful scene that lay ahead ofhim. 

"Nan's a fine, good gal, " Bud declared, with simple earnestness. "Guess she's her mother over again--only she's jest Nan. Nan's more tome than all the dollars in creation, boy. Guess you're right. Oh, yes, you're right--sure. " The man brushed aside the beads of sweatfrom his broad forehead. "An' Nan's goin' to do jest as she notions. She's goin' to live around her home as long as she feels that way. When she don't feel that way she's goin' to quit. When she feels likechoosin' a man fer herself--why, I'm goin' to do all I know helpin' herthat way. But it's goin' to be her choice, boy. An' when that timecomes, why, I'll get right down on my knees an' pray A'mighty God he'sthe feller for her, an' the man I'm hopin' she'll choose, an' that hewants her, same as she wants him. "

Then he shook his head and a deep sigh escaped him. 

"But I don't know. It don't seem to me reasonable. Y' see, the luck'srun all my way so far, an' I don't guess you can keep on dealin' thecards without 'em gettin' right up an' handin' it you plenty--sometime. "

Jeff had no reply. Something warned him to keep silent. The older manin his earnest simplicity had opened out to him a vista which he felthe had no right to gaze upon. 

As they jogged steadily along over the blue-green carpet, and thekaleidoscopic coloring of the distant slopes fell away behind them, hiswhole mental vision became occupied by the sweet picture of abrown-eyed, brown-haired girl. But he was regarding it without anylover's emotions. Rather was he regarding it as one who calmlyappraises a beautiful jewel he does not covet. He was thinking of Nanas he had known her for some five years. From the days of herschoolgirlhood he had watched her develop into a grown woman full ofall that was wholesome and winsome. She was her father over again, trustful, simple, fearless, and she was possessed of a whimsicalphilosophy quite beyond her years. Her beauty was undeniable, hergentle kindliness was no less. But the memory of these things made nostirring within him. Nan was just a loyal little friend whom he lovedand was ready to serve as he might love and help a sister, but regardof her broke off at that. So, as he rode, the pictures of her failedto hold him, and, finally, his roving gaze became caught and held by asudden and striking anachronism in the scene about him. 

He claimed Bud's attention with a gesture which roused him from hisengrossing thought. 

"Fire, " he observed. 

Bud's gaze became rivetted on the spot. 

"Yes, it's fire--sure, " he admitted. 

It was a long way ahead. Only the trained eyes of prairiemen couldhave read the sign aright at such a distance. It was a break in thewonderful sea of varying shades of restful green. It was, to them, anominous dead black patch which broke the sky-line with unmistakableskeleton arms. 

It was the only remark upon the subject which passed between them, butas they rode on it occupied something more than a passing attention. 

With Jeff his interest was mere curiosity. With Bud it was deeper andmore significant. Had the younger man observed him he might havediscovered a curious expression almost amounting to pain in the deepeyes which contemplated the blackened limbs where the fire had wroughtits havoc. 

As they drew nearer it became apparent that the havoc was even greaterthan they had first supposed. A wide patch of woodland, hundreds ofacres in extent, whose upper limits were confined only by the summit ofthe valley's slope, where it cut the sky-line, had been completelyburnt out. Nor was it possible to tell if even that limit was theextent of the disaster. 

Bud suddenly reined in his horse as they came abreast of it, and hisvoice broke with painful sharpness upon the deathly stillness of theworld about them. 

"It's gone, " he cried, with a note of deep distress and grievousdisappointment. "It's burnt right out to a shell. Say----"

"What's gone?"

The older man glanced round. Then his troubled eyes sought the charredremains of the splendid pines once more. 

"Why--the post. " Then he pointed amongst the charred skeletons. "Geta peek right in ther'. See, Jeff. Them walls; them fallen logs. Burnt. Burnt right through to the heart of 'em. That's all that'sleft of the home that sheltered me for the first sixteen years of mylife. Say, I'm sick--sick to death. "

Jeff left his packhorse and moved forward amongst the blackened limbs. The reek of burnt wood hung heavily upon the air. He threaded his waycarefully toward the charred remains of an extensive abode, now plainlyvisible amongst the black tree trunks. 

It was a wide rambling structure, and, though burnt to cinders, much ofits general shape, and the great logs which had formed its walls, stillremained to testify to all it had been under the hands of those who hadoriginally wrought there. 

Jeff glanced back at the man he had left behind. He had not stirred. He sat in the saddle just gazing at the destruction. That was all. Sohe turned again to the ruins, and, dismounting, he proceeded on foot toexplore. 

 * * * * * *

They were eyes wide with repulsion and a certain horror that gazed downupon the object at Jeff's feet. It was the rotting, charred remains ofa human figure. It was beyond recognition, except in so far as itshuman identity was concerned. The clothes were gone. The flesh wasseared and shriveled. The process of incineration was almost complete. 

After a few fascinated moments his eyes searched further along theremains of the old post wall. Another figure lay sprawling on theground. Near by it a heavy pistol had fallen wide. A rifle, too, layacross the second body. 

Every detail was swiftly absorbed by the man's keenly active brain. Hestood back from the gutted precincts and gazed speculatively upon thepicture. His imagination reconstructed something of what he believedmust have occurred in the deep heart of these wrecked woodlands. 

What of the fire? How had it been started? Was it the work of anincendiary? Had the heat of the summer sun wrought the mischief? Hadthe hut itself supplied the trouble? None of these questions offeredreal enlightenment through the answers he could supply. No. He sawthe superheated furnace of the woods blazing, and he saw men strugglingwith all their might to save themselves, and some of their moreprecious belongings. The reckless daring of those two, perhaps at thelast moment, returning to their shelter on one final journey to savesome detail of their home. Then the awful penalty for their temerity. Perhaps overwhelmed by smoke. Death--hideous, appalling death. Death, a thousand times worse than that which, in the routine of their lives, it was their work to mete out to the valuable fur bearers which yieldedthem a means of existence. 

A sudden question, not unaccompanied by fear, swept through his brain. It was a question inspired by the belief that these men were furhunters. Who--who were they? He drew close up to each body in turn, seeking identity where none was discoverable. A sweat broke upon histemples. There was no sign in them. There was no human semblanceexcept for outline. 

"God! If it should be----"

His sentence remained incompleted. A dreadful fear had broken it off. He was gazing down upon the second body, in earnest, horrifiedcontemplation. Then to his amazement he was answered by Bud's familiarvoice. 

"It ain't the boy we're chasin' up, Jeff, " he said, with a deepassurance. 

"How d'you know that?"

The demand was incisive, almost rough. 

"These folks weren't pelt hunters. Not by a sight. I bin around. "

Jeff had turned to the speaker, and a great relief shone in his eyes. 

"What--who were they--then?" he asked sharply. 

"Maybe it was a ranch--of sorts. "

"Of sorts? You mean----?"

"Rustlers. Come right on out of here, an' I'll show you. "

With gentle insistence he drew his friend away from the painfullyfascinating spectacle which held so difficult a riddle. And presentlythey were again with their horses, which were grazing unconcernedlyupon the sweet blue grass which the valley yielded so generously. 

"Well?" There was almost impatience in Jeff's monosyllable. 

For answer Bud pointed at a number of rough fences, uneven, crude, makeshift, some distance away. 

"See them? Oh, yes, I guess they're corrals sure. But it don't take afeller who's lived all his life among cattle more'n five seconds tolocate their meanin'. They're corrals set up in an a'mighty hurry byfolks who hate work o' that sort anyway. An' I'd say, Jeff, cattlemen--real cattlemen--don't dump a range down in the heart of theCathills, not even fer this sweet-grass you can see around, when ther'sthe prairie jest outside. That is cattlemen who got no sort o' reasonfer keepin' quit of the--open plains. Then ther's bin a big drive awaynorth from here. Mebbe they wer' gettin' clear of this fire. "

Under the influence of Bud's clear convictions all Jeff's fearsvanished. He accepted the other's admittedly better understanding ofthese things all the more readily that he desired earnestly to dispelthe last shadows of his momentary doubt. 

"That's so, " he agreed. Then he added: "But anyway, our camp's gone. "

"Yes. We'll make camp some'ere else. Meanwhiles----"

"Yes?"

"We must follow up the trail. "

There was irrevocable decision in the older cattleman's tone. And hiswords had the effect of startling the other. 

"But--I don't see----"

"They're rustlers. Ther's their tracks clear as day. This is theirhiding. Wal, I guess there's jest one thing to be done. It's our dutyto track 'em down. Our duty to the cattle world, Jeff, boy. "

"But what about--Ronald?"

Bud looked him squarely in the eyes. 

"We're cattlemen first, Jeff. The other'll come later. "

Jeff nodded, but there was a certain reluctance in his manner. Hiswhole heart was set upon the search for his twin brother. He felt thathis duty as a cattleman scarcely had the right to claim him at such atime. But the older man's manner made it difficult to protest, and, indeference to him, he felt it would be ungenerous to refuse. After allit only meant perhaps the delay of a day for his own projects. 

"Then we'll feed and water right here, Bud, " he said resignedly. "Wecan leave our pack ponies, and ride light. There's five hours ofdaylight yet. "

"Yes, five hours good. Thanks, boy. Don't you worry a thing. We'llmake this time good. We're goin' to find your Ronald--if he'sanywheres around these Cathills. "

 * * * * * *

The more concentrated the character, the more sure its power of moralendurance, so the more acute its suffering under adversity. Suchpenalties lie ambushed for the strong, as though in delight at theimmensity of the suffering which can thereby be inflicted. 

Such an ambush was awaiting Jeffrey Masters. It came with terrifyingsuddenness. Bud was on the lead. The great sea of blue grass had beenbeaten and crushed by the hoofs of a considerable herd. There was nodifficulty, and the pace he made was rapid. But, even so, Bud's keeneyes never left the well-defined trail. He was reading it with anunderstanding which might well have seemed almost superhuman. And ashe rode he communicated odd fragments of his reading to the man behindhim. 

"It's queer, " he observed once, when they had covered nearly two milesof the track. "Ther's a great bunch of horsemen been over this. Kindo' seems to me as if ther' was as many horses as steers. They'reheadin' northeast, too. "

Jeff's eyes were as close upon the trail as Bud's, only he read withless understanding. 

"They seem leading out of the valley, " he said. "Maybe there's anothercamp way up further. "

Suddenly Bud drew rein, his great body lurching forward in the saddleas his horse "propped" itself to a standstill. Jeff's horse followedsuit of its own accord. 

"What's doing?"

Jeff's demand was accompanied by a keen look into the other's face. 

Bud's eyes were wide with speculation. 

"They've broke up--hereabouts, " he cried. "More'n half the horses havecut out. Say, ther', " he went on pointing away to the right. "That'sthe way they've took, clear across ther' to the east. The herd's goneon with jest a few boys to handle it. Say----"

"Look!"

A curious suppressed force rang in Jeff's exclamation. He was pointingat a bluff of wide-spreading sturdy trees that grew hard in against theeastern slope of the valley. 

Bud followed the direction indicated, and that which he beheld robbedhim of all inclination for further speech. 

Long silent moments passed. Moments fraught with poignant, stirringemotions. Something painful was slowly creeping into the eyes of bothmen as they continued to regard this stout cluster of trees. 

"Oaks. "

The word was muttered. 

Jeff vouchsafed no reply, but led the way toward them at a gallop. 

They drew up almost in the shadow of the trees, at a point where threehideous things were hanging suspended by rawhide ropes. They wereswaying gently, stirred almost imperceptibly under the pressure of thelight breeze. 

Bud sat stock still upon his horse. For a moment Jeff remained at hisside. Then the latter stirred. He pressed his horse forward, urgingit closer under the overhanging boughs. The animal moved willinglyenough for a few yards. Then panic suddenly beset it. It shied. Itreared and plunged. The fierce reminder of the spur was powerless toaffect it beyond driving it to even more strenuous rebellion. Theterror-stricken creature would not approach another step in thedirection of those ominous swinging bodies. 

Jeff finally leaped from the saddle and released his horse. It turnedto bolt, but Bud reached its hanging reins and secured it. Then he satstill, observing the movements of his companion with strained, intentgaze. 

Jeff passed under the great limbs of the tree. He cautiouslyapproached the first of the hanging bodies. It was hideous. There wasa bandage drawn tightly over the dead eyes, but its folds werepowerless to disguise the rest of the contorted features. The head wastilted over on one side. Its flesh was ghastly, and deepdiscolorations blotched it from the neck up. The body was clad in theordinary garb of the prairieman, with the loose waistcoat hanging openover a discolored cotton shirt, and the nether part of it sheathed indirty moleskin trousers. The ankles were lashed securely together, andthe arms firmly pinioned. 

For some moments Jeff stared up at the dead man. His blue eyes werequite unsoftening. There was no real pity in him for the fate of acattle thief. He understood only the justice of it from the point ofview of the cattle grower. So his cold eyes gazed up at the horridspectacle unflinchingly. 

After some moments he passed on to the second body. The sameconditions prevailed. A colored handkerchief concealed the glazedeyes, and the dropping jaw displayed the blackened cavity beyond thelips. 

He moved away to the third. Its back was turned to him, and the baredhead displayed a close mass of fair curling hair. In this instance thebandage over the eyes had fallen from its place, and lay lodged againstthe raw hide rope about the dead man's neck. He moved round quickly. In a moment he was facing the dreadful dead features. 

He stood there without a sound. But his eyes had changed from theircold regard to a horror unspeakable. Once his lips parted, and therewas an automatic effort to moisten them with a parching tongue. Heswallowed with a visible effort. But no other movement came from him. 

The moments passed. Hideous, dreadful moments of an agony that wasdisplayed in the drawn lines which had suddenly taken possession of hisstrong features. It was the face of a man whose soul is seared withthe blasting fury of a hell from the sight of which he is powerless towithdraw his terrified gaze. He knew nothing but the agony which smotethrough his every sense. The world about him, the place, even thehideous swaying remains of a once joyous life that confronted him. Hewas blind, blind to it all, crushed beneath a burden of agony whichleft him stupefied. His twin brother Ronald was there before him, adreadful, dead thing, hanged for a--cattle thief. 

 * * * * * *

Bud gazed from the dead to the living. His deep eyes were full of anunderstanding which required no words. There was that about the dead, distorted face which was unmistakable. One look into the dreadful eyesof the living had told him all he needed. 

He, too, stood silently contemplating the swaying figure. But it wasonly for a moment. Then he moved swiftly, actively. As he moved hedrew a sheath knife from his belt. 

He reached up. The steel of the knife gleamed. The next moment thedead thing was in his arms. 

A low fierce cry suddenly broke the silence of those dreadful shades. 

"Leave him! Don't dare, or--I'll kill you!"

Bud's head turned, and the muzzle of a gun touched his cheek. Theblazing eyes behind it shone like coals of fire as they glared into his. 

But the great Bud's purpose was stronger than the madness of theother's agony. 

"Put up your gun, Jeff, " he said, in a deep gentle voice. "We're jestgoin' to hide this poor boy wher' the eyes o' men an' beasts can't seehim. We're jest goin' to hide him away wher' mebbe the good God'llwatch over him, an' help him, an' surely will forgive him. You kenjest help me, boy, to locate the place, an' when we find it we'll sorto' seal it up, an' you ken hide the key away in your heart so no one'llever find it. Are you goin' to help, Jeff?"

For answer the gun was abruptly withdrawn. Then Bud saw the strickenman's hand dash across his eyes, and, as it passed, he realized themoisture of tears upon the back of it. 

CHAPTER VIII

JEFF CLOSES THE BOOK

Ju Penrose was a mild sort of sun-worshipper. But he confined hisregard to the single blessings of light and warmth. Some of hisdeity's idiosyncrasies were by no means blessings in his estimation. He blamed the sun for the flies. He blamed it that it made necessarythe adoption of light cotton shirts, which required frequent washing. He, furthermore, blamed it for the temperature of drinks in summertime, in a place where no ice was procurable. This he regarded aswholly unfair. Then, too, possessing something of an artistic eye, hefailed to appreciate the necessity for changing the delicate hues ofnature in spring to a monotonous summer tone by the overbearing processof continuing its spring blessing _ad nauseam_. And as for winter, itwas perfectly ridiculous to turn off its "hot" tap when it was mostneeded. Yes, there were moments when he certainly felt that he couldorder matters far more pleasantly if he were given a free hand. 

Still, just now winter was a long way off. So that did not trouble himgreatly as he lounged in his doorway, and reposefully contemplated theruddy noonday light which was endeavoring to lend picturesqueness to ascene which, he assured himself, was an "everlastin' disgrace an' stainon the lousy pretensions of a museum of bum human intellec's. " He wasreferring to the rest of the buildings which comprised the township, asapart from his own "hotel. " The word "saloon" had been struck out ofhis vocabulary, except for use in scornful depreciation of all otherenterprises of a character similar to his own. 

Just now he was chewing the cud, and, incidentally, a wad of tobacco, of a partial peace. He felt that the recent break up of the Lightfootgang, so successfully achieved through the agency of hangings andshootings, should certainly contribute to his advantage. He arguedthat the long-endured threat against Orrville removed, money shouldautomatically become easier, and, consequently, a considerable vista ofhis own personal prosperity opened out before his practical imagination. 

Yes, Ju was undoubtedly experiencing a certain mild satisfaction. Butsomehow his ointment was not without taint. He detected a fly in it. And he hated flies--even in ointment. 

To understand Ju's feelings clearly one must appreciate the fact thathe loved dollars better than anything else in the world. And somethinghe hated with equal fervor was to see their flow diverted into anyother channel than that of his own pocket. Ten thousand of thesedelectable pieces of highly engraved treasure had definitely flowedinto some pocket unknown, as a result of the Lightfoot gang episode. The whole transaction he felt was wicked, absolutely wicked. Whatright had any ten thousand dollars to drift into any unknown pocket?Known, yes. That was legitimate. It always left an enterprisingindividual the sporting chance of dipping a hand into it. But theother was an outrage against commercialism. Why, if that sort of thingbecame the general practice, "how, " he asked himself, "was an honesttrader to live?"

The enquiry was the result of extreme nervous irritation, and hescratched at the roots of his beard in a genuine physical trouble ofthat nature. 

He was so engrossed upon his meditations that he entirely failed toobserve some mounted strangers debouch upon the market-place from thewestern end of the township. Nor was it until they obstructed his viewthat he awoke to their presence. Then he became aware of two men ontwo horses, leading two pack ponies. 

He scrutinized them narrowly without shifting his position, and, longbefore they reached him, he decided they were strangers. 

They dismounted in silence and without haste. They went round theirhorses and loosened cinchas. Then they tied the four beasts to thetie-posts in front of the saloon. 

They approached the saloon-keeper. The larger of the two surveyed theunmoved Ju with steady eyes. Then he greeted him in deep, easy tones. 

"Howdy, " he said. "You run this shanty?"

The reflection upon his business house was not lost upon its proprietor. 

"Guess I'm boss of this--hotel. "

"Ah--hotel. " Bud's gaze wandered over the simple structure. Itsettled for a moment upon a certain display of debris, bottles, cases, kegs, lying tumbled at an angle of the building. Then it came back toJu's hard face, and, in passing, it swept over the weather-boarding ofthe structure which was plastered thick with paint to rescue it fromthe ravages of drip from the shingle roof to which there was noguttering. "Then I guess we'll get a drink. "

By a curious movement Ju seemed to fall back from his position andbecome swallowed up by the cavity behind him. And Bud and hiscompanion moved forward in his wake. 

The place was entirely empty of all but the reek of stale tobacco, andthe curious, pungent odor of alcohol. The two customers loungedagainst the shabby bar in that attitude which bespoke saddle weariness. Ju stood ready to carry out their orders, his busy, enquiring mindsearching for an indication of the strangers' identity. 

"Rye?" he suggested amiably, testing, in his own fashion, their quality. 

But these men displayed no enthusiasm. 

"Got any lager?" demanded Bud. "A long lager, right off the ice. "

"Ice?" There was every sort of emotion in the echo of the word as thesaloon-keeper glanced vengefully across at a window through which thesun was pouring. "Guess we don't grow ice around these parts, 'cep'when we don't need it, an' I don't guess the railroad's discovered theyhatched Orrville out yet. We got lager in soak, an' lager by the keg, down in a cool celler. Ef these things ain't to your notion I don'tguess you need the lager I kep. "

"We'll have the bottled stuff in soak. Long. "

"Ther's jest one size. Ef that don't suit, guess you best duplicate. "

There was no offense in Ju's manner. It was just his cold way ofplacing facts before his customers, when they were strangers. 

He uncorked the bottles and set them beside the long glasses, andwaited while Bud poured his out. Then he accepted the price and madechange. Jeff silently poured out his and raised it to his lips. 

"How, Bud. "

"How. "

The two men drank and set down their half-emptied glasses. 

The sharp ears of the saloon-keeper had caught the name "Bud, " and henow stood racking his fertile brains to place it. But the stranger'sidentity entirely escaped him. 

"Been times around here, ain't ther'?" Bud remarked casually. 

And Ju promptly seized the opportunity. 

"Times? Sure. Say, I guess you don't belong around. Jest passin'thro'?"

Bud nodded. Jeff had moved off toward the window, where he stoodgazing out. The saloon-keeper's gaze followed him. 

"Why, yes. We're passin' through, " returned Bud, without hesitation. "You see, we belong down south in the 'T. T. ' an' 'O----' country. "

"That so?" Ju reached a box of cigars and thrust them at the newcustomer. "Smoke?" he enquired. His generosity was by no meansuncalculated. 

Bud helped himself, and in response to Ju's "Your friend?" he calledacross to Jeff at the window. But Jeff shook his head, and thesaloon-keeper was given an opportunity of studying his set features, and the premature lines he saw graven upon them. He withdrew the boxand turned his attention to the more amenable Bud. 

"It's a swell country down your ways, " he observed cordially. Then headded, "You ain't been cussed with a gang o' toughs raidin' stock, neither, same as we have fer the last fi' years. But they're out. Oh, yes, they're sure out. Yes, siree, you guessed right. Ther's surebeen some play around here. As neat a hangin' as I've see inthirty-five year tryin' to figger out the sort o' sense stewin' in thethink tanks o' the crazy guys who live in cities an' make up po'tryabout grass. Mebbe you've heard all the play?"

Bud shook his head. He drank up his lager, and took the opportunity ofglancing over his glass at Jeff's back. Then he set his glass down andordered another bottle for both of them. 

"No, " he observed. "I ain't heard much. I heard there's been somehangin'. The Lightfoot gang, eh? Seems to me I've heard talk of 'emdown our way. So you boys here got in on 'em?"

Ju set the two fresh bottles on the counter while Bud lit his cigar. 

"That's so, " he said with appreciation, and propped his folded armsupon the bar. "It sort o' come sudden, too. " He smiled faintly. "Itcome as I said it would right here in this bar. The boys was settin'around sousing, an' pushin' round the cyards, an' the VigilanteCommittee was settin' on a pow-wow. I was tellin' 'em ef the folks hadthe sense of a blind louse they'd dope out a reward, an' make it big. I guessed they'd get the gang quick that way. Y'see, it don't matterwho it is, folks is all after dollars--if there's only enough of 'em. Life's jest made up of two sorts o' guys, the fellers with dollars an'them without. Wal, I guess it's a sort o' play goes right on all thetime. You just raise hell around till you get 'em, the other fellersraise hell till you ain't. It's a sort o' give and take, though Ireckon the taking seems to be the general scheme adopted. That's howit comes Lightfoot an' his gang got a nasty kink in most o' theirnecks. It's them dollars. Some wise guy around here jest took himselfby the neck and squeezed out a present of ten thousand dollars to thefeller who'd sell up Lightfoot's good-will an' business. Whathappened? Why, it took jest about twenty-four hours for thetransaction to be put through. Say, ever hear tell of a time whenther' wa'an't some feller waiting ready to grab on to ten thousanddollars? No, sir. You never did. No, nor no one else, 'cep' he spentthe whole of his life in the foolish house. "

"Some one betrayed 'em--for ten thousand dollars?"

Bud's question came with a sharp edge to it. 

"Don't guess 'betray's' the word, mister. It was jest a commercialtransaction. You jest need to get a right understanding of themthings. When I got something to sell, an' you're yearnin' to dope outthe dollars for it--say ten thousand of 'em--why, I don't guess there'sanything else to it but a straight business proposition. "

"So you netted the ten thousand?" enquired Bud, in his simplest fashion. 

"Me? Gee! Say, if them ten thousand dollars had wafted my way I'dhave set this city crazy drunk fer a week. No, sir, " he added, with acoldly gloomy shake of the head. "That's jest about the pain I'msufferin' right now. Some mighty slick aleck's helped hisself to themdollars, an' I don't know who--nor does anybody else, 'cep' him whopaid 'em. "

Bud realized the man's shameless earnestness, but passed it by. He wasseeking information. It was what he and Jeff had come for. The mannerof this man was coldly callous, and he knew that every word he utteredwas a lash applied to the bruised soul of the man by the window. Irresistible sympathy made him turn about. 

"Here's your lager, Jeff, " he said, in his easiest fashion. He had nodesire that Ju should be made aware of the trouble that Jeff waslaboring under. 

Jeff replied at once. His readiness and even cheerfulness of mannersurprised Bud. But it relieved him as well. 

"Bully!" he cried, as he came back to the bar. "I was just gettin' alook around at the--city. " He turned to Ju with his shadowy smilewhich almost broke Bud's heart. "Quite a place, eh?"

"Place? Wal, it's got points I allow. So's hell ef you kin look at itright. " Ju lit a cigar and hid nearly half of it in his capaciousmouth. "I'd say, " he went on, with a certain satisfaction, "ther'smore mush-headed souses in this lay out to the square yard than I'veever heard tell of in any other city. Ef it wa'an't that way Icouldn't see myself wastin' a valuable life lookin' at grass, hearin'talk of grass, smellin' grass, an' durned nigh eatin' grass. I tellyou right here it takes me countin' my legs twice a day to keep me fromthe delusion I got four, an' every time I got to shake my head at somehaf soused bum who's needin' credit I'm scared to death my blamedears'll start right in flappin'. Why, yes, I guess it's some place--ifyou don't know no other. "

Bud was eager to get to the end of the task he had assumed for hisfriend. He wanted the facts, all the facts as far as they wereavailable, of the terrible enactments in that valley of his early youth. 

"An' who antied the price?" he demanded. 

"Who? Why, the President of the Western Union Cattle Breeders'Association--Dug McFarlane. "

"And you don't know who--accepted it?"

It was Jeff who put the question, and Bud, looking on, saw the steelygleam that lit the man's eyes as he spoke. 

But Ju's amiability was passing. He was getting tired of a subjectwhich dealt with another man's profit. He rolled his cigar across hismouth. 

"Here. Guess I best tell you the yarn as we know it. Y'see, " he addedregretfully, "we ain't learned a heap 'cep' jest the racket of it. Dugset up the reward overnight. Next night twenty-five of the boys rodeout with him to the hills. Ther' was some guy with 'em leadin'. Butnone of the boys come up with him. He rode with Dug. We've allguessed, but I don't reckon we know, or'll ever know. You see, he gotshot up they say by Lightfoot himself. However, it don't signify. Igot my notions 'bout it, an' anyway I guess they're jest my own. Theboys guess it was one of the gang itself. Mebbe it was. Can't rightlysay. After they'd located the camp they set out to surround it. Itwas in a bluff. The scrap started right away, an' there was a deal o'shootin'. One or two o' the boys got shot up bad. Then some one firedthe bluff, an' burned 'em right out like a crowd of gophers. Afterthat the scrap came good an' plenty, an' it seems to've lasted nigh anhour. Anyways, they got three of 'em. They shot up several others, an' not more than three got clear away. "

"An' what about Lightfoot?" It was Bud who spoke. His voice waschanged from its usual deep tone. It was sharp, and almost impatient. 

"They got him, " said Ju, with a delight so evident that Bud felt likekilling him for it. "Oh, yes, they got him, sure. A dandy gent withhis blue eyes an' curly, tow hair. They don't guess that's his rightname tho'. But it don't signify. He was the boss all right, allright, an' they took him, an' hanged him with the other two, right outof hand. Gee, I'd have give a deal to have seen----"

"We'll have to be pushing on now, Bud. "

Jeff spoke with his head bent, examining the face of his goldtimepiece. Bud glanced at him. He could see the ghastly hue of theaverted features, and his answer came on the instant. 

"You git the ponies cinched up, Jeff, " he said quickly. "I'll be rightwith you. "

Ju watched Jeff hurry out of the bar. Then his eyes came searchinglyback to Bud's grimly set face. 

"Kind o' seems in a hurry, don't he?" he demanded, with a curious lookin his hard eyes. "Looks sick, too. Say, I didn't git his name right. Mebbe he's traveling around incog. --ain't that the word?"

There was no mistaking the suggestion in the man's half-smiling, half-sneering manner. The ranchman understood it only too well. Heunderstood most of the ways and expressions of the men of the prairie. The hot blood surged under his calm exterior. His gray eyes, soaccustomed to smiling, snapped dangerously. But his reply came withthe same ease which he had displayed most of the time. 

"Wal, I don't guess ther's no myst'ry 'bout either of us, which youkind o' seem you'd like to think. Jeff Masters of the 'O----'s' iswell enough known to most folks, who got any sort o' knowledge of theseparts. An' ther's quite a few folks around here, including DugMcFarlane, li'ble to remember the name of Bud Tristram, of the'T. T. 's. ' But you're sure right in guessin' he's in a hurry to quit. Ther's some places, an' some folks, it ain't good to see a heap of. Ther's fellers with minds like sinks, an' others with natures likerattlers. Neither of them things is as wholesome as a Sunday-school, Iallow. Jeff ain't yearnin' to explore no sinks, human or any other. An' I've generally noticed his favorite pastime is killin' rattlers. So it's jest about the only thing to do--quit this saloon, same as I'mgoin' to do. But say, 'fore I go I'd jest like to hand you this. Justice is justice, an' we all need to take our dope when it comes ourway. But ther' ain't no right on this blamed earth fer any feller towhoop it up at another feller's misdoin's, an' his ultimate undoin'. An' you kin take it how you fancy when I say only the heart of a lousecould feel that-a-way--an' that's about the lowest I know how to handyou. "

Bud's eyes were shining dangerously. They were squarely looking intothe hard face of the saloon-keeper. Not the movement of an eyelidescaped him. He literally seemed to devour the unwholesome pictureconfronting him. The aggressive chin beard, the continual masticationof the cigar which protruded from the corner of the mouth. There wasdeadly fury lurking behind Ju's cruel eyes. But the looked-forphysical display was withheld, and Bud finally turned and walked slowlyout of the bar. 

 * * * * * *

It was some minutes since a word had passed between the two men. Jeffhad nothing to say, and Bud's sympathy was too deep for words. He waswaiting for the younger man to fight his battle to its logical end. Heknew, only too well, all that Jeff had suffered since the moment ofthat gruesome discovery in the Cathills valley. It had been no figureof speech when Jeff had described his twin brother as part of himself. The shock the man had received was, to Bud's mind, as though his hearthad been torn asunder. Hanged as a cattle thief! Was there anythingmore dire, more terrible in the imagination of man than to suddenlyfind that his well-loved brother, twin body of his own, was a cattlethief, possibly a murderer, and had been hanged by his fellow-men? Itwas a thought to leave the simple Bud staggered. And for the victim ofthe shock it might well mean the mental breaking point. 

Jeff was fighting out his battle with an almost super-human courage. Bud knew that. It was written in every detail of his attitude. In thestraining of his blue eyes, in the deep knitting of his fair strongbrows, in the painful lines ploughing deeper and deeper about hismouth, and the set of his strong jaws. 

No. There was no thought of breaking in upon the boy's black momentsof suffering. He must fight his own battle now, once and for all. When victory had been achieved, then perhaps his sympathy might becomehelpful. But till then nothing but the necessities of their journeymust be allowed to intrude between them. 

So they rode over the southern trail. The noontide sun scorched theparching earth with a blistering heat, drinking up the last moisturewhich the tall prairie grass sought to secrete at its attenuated roots. The world about them was unchanged. Every scene was similar in itscharacteristics to all that which had become their lives. Yet Bud knewthat for one of them, at least, the whole of life, and everythingpertaining to it, had been completely and terribly distorted. 

But the character of Jeffrey Masters was stronger and fiercer than Budknew. For all his suffering there was no yielding in him. There hadbeen moments when his soul had cried out in agony. There had beenmoments when the hideousness of his weak brother's fall had driven himto the verge of madness. But with each yielding to suffering had comea rally of passionate force that would not be overborne, and graduallymastery supervened. 

Ten miles out of Orrville on the homeward journey Bud received hisfirst intimation that the battle was waning. It came almost as ashock. They had passed a long stretch of flat grass-land, and werebreasting an incline. Jeff, on the lead, had reined his horse down toa walk. In a moment they were riding abreast, with Bud's pack pony inbetween them. Jeff turned his bloodshot eyes upon his friend, thenthey turned again to the trail. 

"There's nothing now, Bud, but to get ahead with all our plans andschemes, " he said. "We must drive ahead without any looking back. There's still things in life, I guess, that's worth while, and I'd saynot the least of 'em is--work. "

He paused. He had been gazing straight ahead to disguise his effort. Now he turned and looked into the face of his friend, and thrust hishat back on his head. 

"It's been tough, Bud. So tough I don't know how I got through. GuessI shouldn't have without you. You see, Bud, you never said a thing, and--and that saved me. Guess I'm sort of tired now. Tired ofthinking, tired of--everything. But it's over, and now I sort of feelI've got to get busy, or I'll forget how to play the man. I don'tguess I'll ever hope to forget. No, I don't want to forget. Icouldn't, just as I couldn't forget that there's some one in the worldtook ten thousand dollars as the price of Ronny's poor foolish life. Oh, it's pretty bad, " he sighed wearily. "But--I've closed the book, Bud, and please God I'll never open it again. "

CHAPTER IX

FOUR YEARS LATER

Nan Tristram smiled to herself as she sat in the comfortable rockerbefore the open French window which gave on to the wide wooden balconybeyond. The view she had was one of considerable charm, for Aston'sHotel was situated facing one end of Maple Avenue, looking straightdown its length, which was at once the principal and most beautifulthoroughfare in the picturesque western city of Calthorpe. 

But her smile had nothing to do with anything the prospect yielded her. Its beauties were undeniable; she had admitted them to herself manytimes. But she knew them with that intimacy which robs things of theirfirst absorbing charm. The wide-spreading maple trees, which sosoftened down the cold beauty of the large stone-fronted residenceslining the avenue, were always a source of soothing influence in theexcited delight of a visit to this busy and flourishing city. Then thevista of lofty hills beyond the far limits of the town, with theirpurpling tints, their broken facets, their dimly defined woodlandbelts, they made such a wonderful backing to the civilized foreground. 

Nan Tristram loved the place. For her, full of the dreams of youth, Calthorpe was the hub of all that suggested life and gaiety. It wasthe one city she knew. It was the holiday resort of the girl born andbred to the arduous, and sometimes monotonous life of the plains. 

But it was, in reality, a place of even greater significance. Nan sawit only as it appealed to her ardent fancy. But Calthorpe was aflourishing and buoyant city of "live" people, who were fully aware ofits favorable possibilities as the centre of the richest agriculturalregion in the whole of the State of Montana. 

It was overflowing with prosperity. The ranching community, and therich grain growers for miles around, poured their wealth into it, andsought its light-hearted life for the amusement of their families andthemselves. Its social life was the life of the country, and to takepart in it needed the qualification of many acres, or much stock, abank balance that required no careful scrutiny, and a temperamentcalculated to absorb readily the joy of living. 

It was something of this joy of living which was stirring now, lightingthe girl's soft brown eyes with that tender whimsical smile which wasnever very far from them. She was resting after the early excitementsof the day. It was her twenty-second birthday, and, in consequence, with so devoted a father, a day of no small importance. She had beenwarned by that solicitous parent to "go--an' have a sleep, so you don'tpeter right out when the fun gets good an' plenty. " But Nan had no usefor sleep just now. She had no use for anything that might rob her ofone moment of the delight and excitement of the Calthorpe Cattle Week, as it was called. Therefore she undutifully abandoned herself to apleasurable review of events whilst waiting for the next act in theday's play to begin. 

And what a review it made in her understanding of the life about her. It was four years since her father and Jeff Masters had signed theirpartnership, and she knew that to-day, on the second day of _the_ week, the triumph of the great "Obar" Ranch, which her father and JeffreyMasters had so laboriously and patiently built up, was to be completed. Now, even while she sat there gazing from her window at the panorama oflife passing up and down the broad expanse of Maple Avenue, the Councilof the Western Union Cattle Breeders' Association was sitting for itsannual conference and election of officers. And had she not alreadybeen confidentially warned that Jeff was to be the forthcoming year'spresident?

It was the crowning event in the long dreamed dreams of the two menwhom she frankly admitted to herself were nearest and dearest to her. Why should she not admit it? Her father? Ah, yes, her father was themost perfect, kindly, sympathetic father that ever lived. And Jeff? Awarm thrill swept through her heart and set it beating tumultuously. Jeff was her whole sum and substance of life itself. 

Well enough she knew that no other bond than that of friendship existedbetween them; that no word had ever passed between them which might nothave passed in the daily intercourse between brother and sister. Butthis did not cause her to shrink from the admission. Jeff was herwhole horizon in life. There was no detail of her focus which was notoccupied by the image of the man whom she regarded as the genius oftheir fortunes. 

There were moments enough when she realized with something akin todismay that Jeff and she _were_ friends. But her gentle humor alwaysserved her at such moments. And there was always the lukewarmconsolation that there was no other woman who had even a similar claim. Therefore she hugged her secret to herself, and only gazed upon it insuch moments of happy dreaming as the present. 

And just now they were happy moments. How could it be otherwise in agirl so healthy, and with such a depth of human feeling and with such acapacity for sheer enjoyment of the simple pleasures which came herway? What an evening yet confronted her in this brief week of holidayfrom the claims of the green-brown plains of summer. She must be readyat seven o'clock for the reception at the City Hall. She had a newgown for that particular event, which had, amongst others, been boughtin New York. It had cost one hundred and thirty dollars, anunthinkable price it had seemed, but dismissed as something too paltryto be considered by the open-handed ranchman whom she claimed as father. 

She was to assist Jeff and her father in receiving the guests, whowould represent all the heads of their cattle world, and their friends, and their wives, and their daughters. And after that the banquet, which, since the inauguration of the Association, had always takenplace, here at Aston's Hotel. 

There would be speeches. Jeff would speak, and her father--no, shehoped he wouldn't speak. Her smile deepened. He had such a way ofsaying just what came into his funny, simple old head, and such acurious vocabulary. Then, after the banquet, the--Ball!

The girl emitted a deep ecstatic sigh. The ball! It was the crowningglory, and--she had a beautiful new gown for each event. It was aravishing thought. Perhaps a mere man may be forgiven his lack ofimagination in his appreciation of such perfect, unutterable delight. But Nan had no cloud to obscure her sun. The labor of dressing afresh, three times in one evening without a maid, except the questionableassistance of a hotel chambermaid, had no terrors for her--nonewhatever. 

Her day-dreaming was interrupted by an immoderate thump on the door. She turned her head at once, her pretty dancing eyes alight withexpectancy. 

"That you, Dad?" she called. 

"Sure, Nan. " Then came a fumbling at the door handle. 

"You can come right in, " the girl cried, without moving from her chair. 

The door was thrust open, and the sunburnt face with its shock ofcurling iron gray hair and whiskers appeared round it. The deep-seteyes surveyed the room, and took on a look of deep concern. 

"Say, Nan, " he cried, "you'll never git fixed in time. I jest give youthe limit of time before I got around. You see, I didn't fancy you notgettin' a good slep. "

The girl shook her pretty head and smiled as she observed the carefultoilet she felt sure her father had spent the whole afternoon upon. She sprang from her chair and surveyed him critically, with her headjudicially poised on one side, and her pretty ripe lips slightly pursed. 

"Everything's bully but that bow tie, " she declared, after aconsidering pause. "Just come right here and I'll fix it. Say, Dad, Ienvy you men. Was there ever a nicer looking suit for men than eveningclothes? I'm--kind of proud of my Daddy, with his wide chest and goodfigure. And that white waistcoat. My, but you don't look as if you'dever branded a calf in your life. It's only your dear handsome facegives you away, and--and the backs of your hands. "

Nan laughed as she retied the tie to her satisfaction, the fashion inwhich a girl loves to see a bow tied. The man submitted meekly, butwith concern for her final remark. 

"But I scrubbed 'em both--sore, " he declared anxiously. 

"I don't mean they're dirty, Daddy, " the girl laughed. "Was there eversuch a simple, simple soul? It's the wholesome mahogany tan which thewind and the sun have dyed them. Say, there, get a peek at yourself inthat glass. " She thrust him toward a wall mirror. "It's not girlsonly who need a mirror, when a man is good to look at, Daddy, is it?Honest? It doesn't make you hate yourself, nor feel foolish. I guessthere's men folks who'd have you think that way, but if I know anythingthey'd hate to be without a mirror when they're fixing themselves for aparty where there's to be some nice looking women, and where they're tobe something better than just a 'stray' blown in. "

Bud laughed at the rapid flow of the girl's banter. But he had by nomeans forgotten his own concern. 

"But, say, Nan, you hain't got time for foolin' around. You surelyhain't. It's haf after five, an' we're due at the City Hall seven, sharp. Y'see, you ain't like us fellers who don't need no fixin' tospeak of. An' you're helpin' us to receive the folks----"

Nan's delighted laugh rippled through the pleasant room. 

"Oh, my Daddy, " she cried, with wide, accusing eyes, "you're the bestlaugh in a month. " Then she held up one admonishing finger before herdancing eyes. "Now the truth. What was the minute you started to makeyourself--pretty?"

She sat herself upon a table before him with the evident purpose ofenjoying to the full the delighted feelings of the moment. 

Bud eyed her steadily. He knew he was to be cornered. Nor would it befor the first time. The relation between these two was that of adelightful companionship in which the frequent measuring of wit held noinconsiderable place amidst a deep abiding affection. 

"Say--a touch of the north wind around, Nan, eh?" he smiled. 

"Never mind the north wind, Daddy, " Nan laughed. "Just when? That'swhat I need to know now. "

The man's fingers sought his crisply curling hair. 

"No, no, " cried Nan, in pretended alarm, "Guess you're going to undo anhour's work that way. "

Bud dropped his hand in real dismay. 

"Guess I plumb forgot. Wal, say, since you got to know, I'd say itmust ha' bin right after din--I mean luncheon. You see, I'd----"

"Ah, say three o'clock. " Nan leaned forward, her pretty face supportedon the knuckles of her clasped hands, her elbows resting upon herknees. "Oh, Daddy--and you aren't due at the party till seven. Fourhours. Four valuable hours sitting around in your dandy new suit ofevening clothes. Vanity. Pure vanity. We're all the same, men who_don't_ need--fixing, and women who _do_. Only you men won't admit it. Women do. They surely do. Any woman's ready to admit she'd ratherlook nicer than any other woman than be all sorts of a girl other ways. And though they don't ever reckon to admit it, men just feel that way, too. Oh, I guess I know. The boys are just yearning for the girls tothink there's nothing but big 'thinks' moving around in theirwell-greased heads. And they'd hate a girl who got the notion they hadtime to stand around gawking in a mirror to see their clothes setright, or study the look they're going to pour into the china blue eyesof some tow-headed bundle who knows his bank wad down to the last cent. "

She sighed heavily, but her eyes were literally dancing. 

"But it's kind of nice that boys act that way, " she went on. "It doesgive a girl a chance to think him all sorts of a god for--a while. Say, if she knew things just as they are, where'd she find that scrapof romance which makes life all sunshine and storm clouds, instead ofthe monotonous gray it really is?"

She pointed at the snowy bed laden with the precious costumes she mustuse before the night was out. 

"Say, wouldn't it be just awful if every girl knew that the manshe'd--marked down for her own, worried around with things like thatbefore every party he was to take her to, same as she does? I guessshe'll learn it all later when she marries him, and has two folks toworry for instead of one. But, meanwhile, she just dreams that he'sdreaming those 'big thinks' that's going, some time, to set a dreamingworld wide awake to the mighty 'thinks' she dreams into her beau'shead. "

Then she began to laugh, and the infection of it caught her father, whogurgled heavily in chorus. 

"Say, wouldn't it be a real circus if a big, strong man had to act thesame as us poor women? I mean when we're scheming to stir up asensation in the hearts of men, and in the envy depot of other girls, when we enter the portals of a swell social gathering. Now Jeff. Say, my Daddy, can you see him sort of mincing across the floor, " she cried, springing from her seat and pantomiming across the room, "smiling, andsmirking and bowing, this way and that, all done up in fancy bows, andsheeny satins, and--and with combs in his sleek hair to hold it inplace, and with a jeweled tiara set on top of it? And then--yes, justa teeny tiny touch of powder on his nose? My word!"

A happy chorus of laughter rang through the room as she returned to herseat, Bud's coming in great unrestrained gusts. They were like twoirresponsible children rather than father and daughter. 

"Oh, dear. And you, too, " laughed Nan. "We can't leave you out of thepicture. Being of more mature years I guess you'd sweep in--that's theway--sweep in gowned--at your age you don't dance around in'frocks'--in something swell, and rich, and of sober hue. Oh, dear, oh, dear. Guess we'd have to match your mahogany face. Wine color, eh? No 'cute little bows for you. Just beads and bugles, whateverthey are. But we'd let you play around with some tinted mixing ofpowder for your nose, or--or we'd sure spoil the picture to death. My, I'd die laughing. "

Bud's amusement threatened to burst the white bonds which held his vastneck. 

"Oh, quit it, Nan, " he cried, with his beaming face rapidly purpling. Then he struggled for seriousness. "I didn't get around to listen toyour foolin', child. " Then he bestirred himself to a great display ofparental admonishment. "Now, see right here, Nan, I'll get back in anhour. Maybe Jeff's fixin' himself the way you said. I can't jest say. But anyways he's the big feller to-night, an' it's up to you to worryout so you can be a credit to him, an' me, an' the 'Obar. '" Then hecame across to her and took her affectionately by the shoulders, andgazed down into her face with twinkling, kindly eyes. "Say, you gotmore to work on than most gals. You sure have, Nan. Yep. Your poorma was a pictur', an' you're a pictur'. An' I ain't goin' to say whichof you had claim for the best framing. Anyway, what you have in yourpretty face you owe to the dear woman who never had a chance of theframing you can have. So jest remember it, Nan--and thank her. "

Nan's eyes had completely sobered at the mention of her dead mother, whom she scarcely remembered, and earnestness and affection replacedall her mirth. 

"Maybe I owe it her, " she said, suddenly releasing herself from theheavy hands, and rising from her seat. Then she reached up and slippedher soft arms about the man's neck. "And what do I owe to you?Nothing? Ah, my Daddy, I guess you can shake your funny head till youmuss up its contents to an addle. I'll not forget what I owe my momma, and just thank her all I know, but I'm thanking you too--just as hard. "

She tiptoed until she was able to kiss him on the cheek. Then herready smile broke out afresh, and she gently pushed him toward the door. 

"Who is it wasting my time? There, " she cried, as she opened the door, and her father vanished through it, "get right out, and don't you darecome back for an hour. "

The ranchman's laugh echoed down the corridor as he moved away. ThenNan, practical and sober once more, closed the door and rang for thechambermaid. 

 * * * * * *

Whatever success could be claimed for the men who had founded and builtup the "Obar" Ranch, and it was more than considerable, the triumph ofthat night was in no small measure to the credit of Nan Tristram. 

But when it was all over, when the last of the three beautiful gownshad been tucked tenderly away in the drawers which were their temporaryhome, and Nan was left to the night solitude in which to go over oncemore in her secret thoughts each keenly vivid detail of thekaleidoscopic play of events as they had swept past her during theevening, they found her soberly wondering if, after all, theanticipated delight had been realized. Was it possible in all thatunquestioned success there had been no delight, no real enjoyment atall? It seemed impossible. It was impossible, and she tried to putthe thought out of her mind. But it refused to be banished. Itreturned again--and again, and, in desperation, not untouched withpanic, she assured herself that she was tired--very tired, and thissilly feeling was the result. Then, too, her humor was summoned, andit warned her of the quantity of ice cream she had devoured at theball. It told her her digestion had suffered in consequence. And thisshe thought was a pity, because she loved ice cream. 

But humor was swept aside by a far keener emotion. She scorned theidea of indigestion. She had no pain _there_. But there was pain, asilly ache about her heart which robbed her of all desire for sleep. 

She tried to console herself by recalling her father's quaintlyexpressed admiration of her, when he first beheld her in her new andcostly gown. What was it?

"Why, say, Nan, when I look at you I sort o' feel as if two fellers hadbin at work fixin' you, a po't an' a painter, Seems as if they'd settheir mushy heads together, an' each had doped out what the othercouldn't, till ther' ain't a thing left fer the fancy of plainmule-headed sort o' bussocks like me. "

Curious as his method of expression had been she had understood andthrilled with delight. But almost at once her thoughts flew on to muchlater when she was gliding through the dancing crowd at the ball. Hiseyes had followed her everywhere. But there was a change in theirexpression. To her it was a complete change. To her the simpleapproval had been replaced by a gleam of sympathetic concern. But thiswas after--after the first cloud had settled upon her hope of unalloyedenjoyment. Perhaps the look had not been there at all. Perhaps it wassimply her own feelings finding reflection for her where none existed. 

She became impatient with herself and grasped at the memory of Jeff'sgreeting when she had first appeared in the hotel parlor, equipped forthe reception. 

He had not said much. But that was always Jeff's way. But there hadbeen his quick smile of unusual satisfaction. And the words ofgreeting had sprung quite spontaneously to his lips. 

"Say, Nan, you're--you're just great. "

The hesitation in the middle of it had told her even more than hissmiling admiration. It was almost like--and she thrilled as shethought it--a gasp for breath. 

She strove hard to support herself with these memories, out even as sheconsidered them her mind passed on to the reception, and that stupidache supervened once more. Instantly her focus narrowed down. Therewere only two figures in it. The rest merely provided a setting forthese two. All the lights, the decorations, the beautiful costumes andsmiling faces, these became an indistinct blurr, leaving the image ofMrs. Elvine van Blooren and a man standing vividly out. 

What a wonderful, wonderful picture of radiant womanhood Mrs. VanBlooren had made! Even in her trouble Nan was generous. The woman wasbeautiful in a way that poor Nan had only dreamed of. The Madonna-likefeatures, calm, perfect. The dark hair, superb in the simplicity ofits dressing. She remembered that at the first glance it had suggestedto her the sheen of a cloudless summer night. And her gown, and herfigure. The gown must have cost--ah, Nan could not appraise its cost. She had had insufficient experience. Her own maximum had been reachedonly now, and the sum seemed to her as paltry as her father had made itappear. The one certainty that remained with her, however, was thatthe taste displayed in Mrs. Van Blooren's gown had placed it beyondsuch a thing as mere material value. 

And then her heart had seemed to stand still. It appeared that Jeff, who was talking to some other people, and she had become aware of Mrs. Van Blooren's presence at the same moment. For when Nan glanced in hisdirection he was gazing fixedly at the newcomer with a look in hissteady blue eyes which she had never beheld in them before. Oh, yes, there had been no mistaking that look. She knew she was not clever, but she was a woman, and no woman could ever mistake such a look in theeyes of a man. 

But worse was to follow. There was a respite for her in the activitiesof the reception. For Jeff was as busily occupied as she was. Then, too, at the banquet she had ample time to recover from the shock. Butthe ball came, and they were both released from their duties, andeverybody was left free to dance as only the western people love todance. 

It was then that her bitter cup was filled to overflowing. Jeff dancedsix times with Mrs. Van Blooren. Six times, and one supper extra, while she had to content herself with a miserable two dances with theone man who, to her stood out foremost among all men. 

It was during the long hours of that dreary ball that she hadencountered her father's curious regard, and now she wondered if he hadseen what she had seen. If he had understood as she understood. 

Nan wanted to cry. As she lay there on her snowy bed, restless, andwakeful, and troubled, there were certainly moments when her tired eyesfilled with tears. But she did not, would not cry. She smiled toherself, and even laughed. She ridiculed herself and made jest of herabsurd pretensions. She told herself a hundred times she had no claimupon Jeff. He was free to do as he chose, to dance all night with anyMrs. Van Blooren. 

But when, at last, the first beam of daylight penetrated the lightmaterial of the window blinds, and slowly flooded the room, it foundNan in a troubled sleep with two great unshed tears slowly welling inthe corners of her eyes, and ready to fall heavily and sadly down theperfect moulding of her softly rounded cheeks. 

CHAPTER X

THE POLO CLUB RACES

The race-track at Calthorpe was a matter of no small pride to itscitizens. Any western city could possess broad and beautiful avenues. Any city might well boast hotels of six, eight, or even ten floors, andexpress elevators, and things of that sort. A cathedral was notunknown even, and electric surface cars. But a race-track--arecognized race-track--which was included in the official westerncircuit of race meetings, was certainly a matter for more than ordinarypride. 

Such regard was undoubtedly meted out to it, and as a corollary therewere prophets in the city who foresaw the later development of aCountry Club, with a golf course, and the provision for every otheroutdoor sport under its luxurious administration. Those who couldafford such luxuries pretended to look upon these things asindispensable, and those who couldn't regarded them with simple pride, and lived in the glamour of their reflected glory, and told each otherhow such things should be administered. 

Such developments, however, were for the future. The race-trackexisted, and, amongst its many other delights, it supplied the crankswith a text for frequent sermons. 

It was set in a luxurious woodland dip, well beyond the town limits, and occupied a small flat of rich grass through which a mountain creekwound its ridiculously tortuous course. Thus it was provided with thenatural resources demanded by a steeplechase course as well as the"flat. "

It was a toy which the wealth of the neighborhood had been poured outupon with no niggard hand, till it found itself possessed of aminiature grand stand, a paddock and loose boxes, for the use of many apony whose normal days were spent roaming wild upon the plains. Thenthere was the Polo Club House and ground, where many of the city'ssocial functions were held. The whole thing was as pretentious asmoney could make it, and in due proportion it was attractive to theminds of those who believed themselves leaders in their social world. 

Nan Tristram understood all this and smiled at it, just as sheunderstood that to absent oneself from the Polo Club Races in CattleWeek would be to send in one's resignation from the exclusive socialcircles to which she belonged, a position quite unthinkable for one whosought only the mild excitements which pertain to early youth. 

The noon following the ball, and all the disturbed moments which itinspired, found Nan on the way to the Polo Club Races. Her party wasriding, and it was an extensive party. There were some twenty and moresaddles. Luncheon had been sent on ahead, catered for by Aston's Hotelat Jeffrey Masters' expense, one of the many social duties which hiselection to the Presidency of the Western Union Cattle Breeders'Association entitled him to undertake during the Cattle Week. 

It was a gay party, mostly made up of young and prosperous ranchmen, and the girls belonging to their little world. Nor among them couldhave been found any one more brightly debonair and attractive than NanTristram. 

There was never a sign about her of the disquieting thoughts ofovernight. Such things might never have been. Her eyes, so soft andbrown, were sparkling with that joy of life which never fails in itsattraction even for the most serious mind. She sat her brown mareastride with the easy grace of a born horsewoman. Her equipment lackedno detail in its comparison with that of the other women. Bud'swarning on this point had fallen upon willing and attentive ears whenhe had handed the girl a signed blank check. And the old man had foundample reward for his generosity in the rivalry amongst the men for his"gal's" escort. 

The only shadow which fell across his enjoyment had occurred when hebeheld Jeff leading the cavalcade at the side of Mrs. Van Blooren. Butin Nan's case it seemed to give not the smallest qualm. Her one singlepurpose seemed to be to obtain a maximum of enjoyment at the side ofyoung Bill Dugdale, a college-bred youth of more than ordinary reputeas a prosperous cattleman. 

The day was fresh for midsummer. The sky was ruffled with greatbillowing white summer clouds, and a cool northwest breeze was comingoff the mountain tops. The whole world about them was assuming thattawny green of the ripening season, and the trail was sufficientlydusty for its abandonment in favor of the bordering grass. But ifmidsummer reigned over Nature, Spring, fresh, radiant Spring was in thehearts of those seeking the mild excitement of Calthorpe's race-track. 

Nan and young Dugdale laughed and chattered their way in the wake ofthe several couples ahead. Dugdale's desire to please was more thanevident. And Nan was at no time difficult. Just now she seemed toenter into the spirit of everything with a zest which sent the man'shopes soaring skyward. 

Once only during the brief ride did the girl give the least sign thather interest lay on anything but her good-looking escort. It was at amoment when Dugdale was pointing out to her the humorous inspiration ofhis own registered cattle brand. 

"You see, 'B. B. ' don't sound much of a scream, Miss Tristram, " he said, in great seriousness. "I don't guess it's likely to set you fallingout of your saddle in one wild hysterical whoop of unrestrained mirth. Course I'm known by it, same as you're known by the 'Obar, ' but some ofthe language the boys fix to my brand 'ud set a Baptist ministerhollerin' help. Say, I can't hand you it all. I just can't, that'sall. 'Bill's Bughouse' is sort of skimmed milk to pea soup. Thenthere's 'Bill's Boneyard. ' That wouldn't offend any one but myforeman. 'Busy Bee' kind of hands me a credit I don't guess I'mentitled to. But there's others smack of the intelligence of badlyraised hogs. " Then he laughed. "The truth is, when I first pitchedcamp on Lime Creek I wasn't as wise to things ranching as aSunday-school committee. I lived mostly on beans an' bacon, and whenthe boys fell in at night, why, I don't guess there was much besidebeans and bacon to keep 'em from falling into a state of coma on myblankets. It generally fixed them right, and I'm bound to say theynever seemed to find they couldn't sit a saddle after it. Yes, and hitthe trail for fifty miles, if there was fresh meat at the end of it. Isort of got known around as 'Beans and Bacon. ' Then it was abbreviatedto B. B. And so when I registered my brand it just seemed natural toset down B. B. "

Nan's laugh was very genuine. Dugdale's ingenuous manner alwayspleased her. 

"You hadn't learned prairie hospitality, " she said. "You surely werecommitting a grave offense. "

The man was full of pretended penitence. 

"I don't guess that needed _learning_!" he said, with a wry smile. "The boys just handed it to me same as a parson hands a heart-to-hearttalk on things you're hatin' to hear about. Oh, I was put wise quick. But when you've got just about ten thousand dollars that's telling youyou're all sorts of a fool, and you're yearning for 'em to believeyou're a twin brother to Pierpont Morgan, why, you don't feel yourhide's made of gossamer, and don't care a cuss if folks start right into hammer tacks into it for shoe leather. "

"And the dollars? You convinced them?" Nan's eyes were full of humor. 

"Convinced 'em?" The man's eyes opened wide. "Say, Miss Tristram, itwas a mighty big argument. Oh, yes, and I guess there were times whenwe come near bein' such bad friends that I wanted to hand 'em right onto the nearest saloon-keeper I could find. But in the end I won. Oh, I won. I just told 'em right out what I thought of 'em, and theirparents, and their ancestors, and their forthcoming progeny, and--that, seemed to fix things. They got civil then. Sort of raised their hats, and--got busy. You'd be astonished if you saw the way they hatchedout--after that. You see, " he added whimsically, "there's just aboutonly one way of makin' life act the way you need it. Set your backteeth into the seat of things, and--hang on. "

But Nan's reply was slow in coming, and her usually ready laugh was notin evidence. His final remark had brought very near the surface allthose feelings and thoughts she had striven so hard to bury where theycould no longer offend. It seemed to the man that her eyes had grownunnecessarily serious. But then he did not know that there was anyunusual interest for her in the fact that Jeff Masters was escortingMrs. Van Blooren. 

When she did speak it was with her gaze fixed upon the couple ahead. 

"Yes, that's it, " she said. "Hang on. Hang on with every ounce ofcourage and strength you've got. And if you've got to go under, why, Iguess it's best done with a smile, eh?" Quite abruptly she indicatedthe woman in front. "I do think she's real beautiful, don't you?"

"Who?" The man had no concern for anybody at that moment but the girlat his side. 

"Who? Say, aren't you just foolish. I was thinking of Mrs. VanBlooren. "

The man laughed. 

"I surely am, " he declared. "And I've won prizes for thought-readingat parlor games, too. "

They both laughed. Then Nan went on with a persistence which was quitelost upon the thought-reader. 

"Who is she? Mrs. Van Blooren?" she demanded. 

"Why, you met her, sure?" Then the man added with some significance:"She's riding with Jeff Masters. "

"Oh, yes. I've met her. I met her last night, and I've seen her manytimes before. " Then she added with a shadow of coldness in her manner:"But she doesn't belong to the cattle folk. "

The man's eyes were following the direction of Nan's. 

"No-o, " he said seriously. "Guess I'm not wise. They say her husbandwas a rancher--before he acted foolish an' died. "

Nan's laugh came readily. 

"That's bright. I don't guess he started running cattle--after. "

Dugdale chuckled explosively. 

"Who's to say?" he cried. Then he went on with enthusiasm: "Say, wouldn't it be bully to think of? Just get a thought of it. Flappingaround with elegant store wings, rounding up golden steers trimmed withfancy halos, and with jeweled eyes. Branding calves of silver withflaming irons and turning 'em out to feed on a pasture of purple grasswith emeralds and sapphires for blossoms all growing around. Andthen----"

"Think again. Say, your taste's just--cheap. But we're talking ofMrs. Van Blooren. "

"I'm sorry. Why, I guess she's daughter to the Carruthers's. John D. Carruthers. He was principal at St. Bude's College. Pensioned. Guessit's five years since she handed us boys the G. B. And hooked up with awhite-gilled hoodlum from down East. He got around here with a wadhe'd raised from his father. Can't say who his father was. Folksguessed he was some millionaire. I don't just know the rights of it. Anyway, he left her well enough fixed. Gee! Fancy a feller actingthat way--dying, with a wife like that. Wonder what sort of mush hekept in his thinking depot? I'd say folks with sense have to live onthe chances fools can't just kick to death. Anyway, seeing she'sstarted right in to set her wings rustling again I guess some fellerwith hoss sense'll be getting busy. They'd make a swell couple, " headded with a grin. "Jeff's a good-looker. "

Nan nodded. 

But she made no answer. Had the man been less concerned with hismatch-making suggestions he must have observed the effect of hiscareless words. Nan had paled under the pretty tanning of her roundedcheeks. She was hurt, hurt beyond words, and though she couldwillingly have cried out she was forced to smother her feelings. Thepanic of the moment passed, however, and, with a great effort, she wasable to give her suggestion its proper value. But somehow, for therest of the ride, it seemed to her that the sun was less bright, thewind even had become chilly, and altogether there was a curious, enervating world-weariness hanging over everything. 

By the time they reached the race-track she felt in her simple heartshe ought to apologize for having spoiled her escort's ride. But theinclination was only the result of her depression. She even toldherself, with a gleam of humor, that if she attempted it she would haveto burst into tears. 

However, the later excitement of the racing helped to revive Nan'sdrooping spirits. The scene was irresistible. The atmosphere. Thehappy buoyant enjoyment on every side could not long be denied whateverthe troubles awaiting more sober moments. There were the sleek andglossy horses. There were the brilliant colors of the jockey's silks. There was the babel of excited voices, the shouting as the horsesrushed down the picturesque "straight. " Then the betting. Thelunching. The sun. The blessed sun and gracious woodland slopesshutting in this happy playground of men and women become childrenagain at the touch of pleasure's magic wand. No, for all her anxiety, Nan had no power to withstand the charm and delirium of it all. And, for a while, she flung herself into it with an abandon which matchedthe most reckless. 

Twice she found herself in financial difficulties through recklessbetting, and twice the open-handed Bud had to come to her assistance. Each time his comment was characteristic, and Nan laughed at him withthe irresponsibility of a child who tastes the delight of gambling forthe first time. 

"Say, little gal, " Bud admonished her, the second time he unrolled his"wad" of bills. "Makin' dollars on a race-track's jest about as easyas makin' ice-cream. Ther's jest one way of doing it. Ast yourselfwhich hoss you're craziest to dope out your money on, an' when you'replumb sure then get right along an' bet on the other feller. Meanwhiles think in dollars an' play in cents. "

And Nan's answer reflected her feelings of the moment. 

"You can't play in cents, my Daddy, when it's time to play in dollars. You never know when the time's coming along when even cents are deniedyou. "

Then before the worshipping parent could add to his advice the girldarted off with her hands full of outspread bills seeking the poolrooms. 

She had seen the horses cantering over to the post for the half-miledash. It was a race for legitimate cow-ponies and she knew Jeff's"Sassafras" was running in it. She meant to bet on Jeff's horse. Itmattered nothing to her what other horses were running. She knewlittle enough of their claims. She had one thought in life. Anythingto do with Jeff Masters, anything of his was good enough for her togamble on--even with her life. This was the real, all unconscious Nan. It was not in her to give half measure. She had no idea of what shewas doing. She had no subtlety or calculation of anything where herlove was concerned. She would back Jeff to the limit, and stand orfall by it. It was the simple loyalty and devotion which only a womancan yield. 

On her way to the pool room she encountered Jeff himself, and, in theexcitement of the moment, clasping her money in both hands, she thrustthem out toward him. 

"Say, Jeff, " she cried, "I'm just crazy. The horses have gone rightout to the start now, and--and I'm gasping to put my dollars onSassafras. "

The man's quiet smile was good to see. And Nan warmed under itsinfluence. This was the Jeff she had known so long and loved so well. There was no other woman near to have provoked that smile. It washers. She felt it was all hers, and her eyes shone up into the depthsof blue she so loved. 

"Why, Nan, I just hate to disappoint you, " he said, in a gentlefashion. "But you'll surely be crazy to back my plug with TommyCleveden's 'Jack Rabbit' in the race. It's a cinch for him. It is so. "

Nan laughed a glad buoyant laugh. 

"Jack Rabbit?" she echoed scornfully. "Why, he points the toe. Guesshe'd outrun Sassafras if he kept his feet, but he'll never do it. He'll peck. Then he'll change his stride. No, Jeff. Sassafras goeswith me. "

The smile in the man's eyes faded out. He hated the thought of Nanlosing her money on what he considered a foolish bet. His practicalmind could not see under her purpose. 

"Say, Nan, just don't you do it, " he said persuasively. "We aren't. We're backing Jack Rabbit for a big roll. "

"We?"

"Mrs. Van Blooren and me. "

Jeff's manner was quite unconcerned. At that instant he had no thoughtof anything but to dissuade Nan from throwing her money away uselessly. And Nan. Her eyes never wavered for an instant in their regard. Theirwarmth of expression remained. Yet it was a cruel blow. Perhaps thecruelest that could have been inflicted at such a moment. Jeff hadinflicted it--Jeff of all men. 

She smiled up at him. Oh, how she smiled. Her eyes shone like twosuperb brown diamonds as she forced her money upon him with evengreater determination. 

"Take it, Jeff. Take it, " she cried urgently. "Say, if you never, never do another thing for me--ever. Take it, and, why, I guess everycent of it says Sassafras wins. Sassafras is your pony, Jeff, and I'dback him if he'd only three legs and a fence post. " Then just thesmallest gleam of the woman peeped through. "Maybe Mrs. Van Blooren'sa pretty bright woman. But I guess I'm wise to horses. "

Jeff hurried away. There was no time to waste. The horses had alreadyassembled at the start. Nan watched him go with eyes that had losttheir last gleam of sunshine. The mask she had set up before the manhad completely fallen. Jeff was--was betting for Mrs. Van Blooren! Hewas betting with her! Maybe even they were pooling their bets! Oh!

For some moments she stood alone where Jeff had left her. Everybodyhad rushed to the fence of the enclosure, crowding to witness the race. Nan seemed to have forgotten it. It was Bud's voice that finallyclaimed her, and she tried to pull her scattered faculties together. 

She reached Bud's side amongst the crowd, and the old man's shrewd eyessearched her troubled face. 

"What's amiss, Nan?" he demanded, in a tone almost brusque. 

And the girl responded with a wistful smile. 

"Why, Daddy, I've bet all your money on Jeff's Sassafras, and--and Iwant him to win more than anything--anything in the world. "

Bud's reply was lost in the sudden shout that went up. It was thestart. Some one made way for Nan, and gently pushed her to a placeagainst the railings. The winning-post was directly in front of her. The full breadth of the track was in her view. She gazed out with eyesthat were very near tears. She saw a vista of green and many figuresmoving beyond the track. She heard the hoarse cries of men, whosedesires exceeded their veracity as they shouted the progress of therace. But nothing of what she heard or beheld conveyed anything toher. Her heart was aching once more, and her thoughts were heavilyoppressed, and all the joy of the day had suddenly been banished. 

Then of a sudden came that greatest of all tonics. That irresistiblesensation so powerfully stimulating that no trouble can resist it. Theracing horses leaped into her view, and the disjointed shouts weldedinto one steady roar. Nan was caught in the tide of it all. The bloodseemed to rush to her head like full rich wine. She added her lightcries to the general tumult. 

"Sassafras! Sassafras!" she cried, with eyes blind to all but theindistinct cluster of the straining horses. 

Then in her ears rang a cry:

"A hundred dollars Jack Rabbit! A thousand! Jack Rabbit! JackRabbit!"

It was like a douche of cold water. The girl's heart sank. She felt, she knew that Jack Rabbit had won. Then into her ears poured a babelof voices. The roar had died out, and the crowd were waiting for thenumbers to go up. 

Nan had no further interest. She turned to seek her father. He wasthere, not far behind her, and she pushed her way toward him. Shesmiled bravely as she came up, but the pathos of it was lost on Bud. He was craning, and his eyes were on the number board. He did not evensee her. 

"I'm--I'm sort of tired, Daddy, " she began. 

But Bud held up his hand. There was a rattle at the number board. Nanunderstood. She waited. Then it seemed as if the crowd had timeditself for one unanimous shout. 

"Sassafras!"

It came with a sort of electric thrill for the girl. In one wildmoment all her shadows seemed to clear. 

"Sassafras!" she cried. 

And her father's deep gray eyes beamed down upon her

"You've sure guessed right, little gal, " he said. "An' I--hope it wasdollar time. "

At that instant Jeff thrust his way through the crowd, and the warmthof his smile flooded the girl's heart with happiness. 

"Say, Nan, " he cried, holding out his hand with an enthusiasm that washardly to be expected in one who has lost, "you got us all beat a mile. You surely have. Sassafras. My old Sassafras. Say, who'd 'a' thoughtit?" Nan's hand remained clasped in his, and she seemed to have nodesire to withdraw it. Jeff looked round into Bud's face. "Do youknow what she's won? Do you, Nan?" he went on to the girl again. 

Nan laughed. It was all she wanted to do. 

"Not a notion, Jeff. I handed you all Daddy gave me. How much was it, Daddy?"

"Five hundred. "

Nan's eyes widened in alarm. 

"Five hundred? And I bet it all on--Sassafras!"

"And you've won nearly five thousand, " cried Jeff, stirred completelyout of himself at the girl's success. 

"I--I must have been--crazy, " she declared, in an awed voice. 

Bud laughed, but his eyes were full of a sympathy that had no meaningfor the others. 

"Not crazy, little Nan. Jest good grit. Guess Jeff didn't see thepool waitin' around for him to pick up. Wal, guess ther's a heap o'folk like him. You played right out for a win, an' you won--by a head. "

CHAPTER XI

ELVINE VAN BLOOREN

It was the last day of the Cattle Week. A week which, for at leastthree people, was fraught with something in the nature of epoch-makingevents. All that the simple heart of Nan Tristram had looked forwardto, yearned for, had been denied her from the first moment she hadbeheld that unmistakable lightening up of Jeff's eyes on his meetingwith Elvine van Blooren. It had been a revelation of dread. Her ownsecret hopes had been set shaking to their very foundations. And fromthat moment on, during the rest of the week, brick by brick the wholeedifice of them had been set tumbling. By the last day nothing but apile of debris remained. 

Holiday! It had been a good deal less than holiday. She had lookedforward to one all too brief succession of days of delight. Jeff, whohad been honored by his fellows in the world which was theirs. Jeff, the leader in the great industry which absorbed them all. Jeff, theman by his very temperament marked out for a worldly success onlybounded by the limitations of his personal ambitions. She had been soproud of him. She had been so thankful to be allowed to share in histriumphs. She had shared in them, too--up till that meeting withElvine van Blooren at the reception. After that--ah, well, there hadbeen very little after for Nan. 

And the man himself. Four days had sufficed to reduce Jeff's feelingsto a condition of love-sickness such as is best associated with extremeyouth. Furthermore its hold upon him was deeper, more lasting byreason of the innate strength of his character. 

As for Elvine van Blooren it would be less easy to say. Her beauty wasof a darkly reticent order. Hers was the face, the eyes, the manneryielding up few secrets. She rarely imparted confidence even to hermother. And a woman who denies her mother rarely yields confidence toany other human creature. 

Perhaps in her case, however, she had good reason. Mrs. John D. Carruthers, who possessed a simple erudite professor for a husband, aman who possessed no worldly ambitions of any sort, and who readilyaccepted his pension from the trustees of St. Bude's College at theearliest date, so that he might devote all his riper years to theprosecution of his passion for classical research, was a painfulexample of worldliness, and a woman who regarded position and wealthbefore all things. There was little enough sympathy between mother anddaughter. Mrs. John D. Carruthers only saw in Elvine's unusual beautyan asset in her schemes of advancement. While Elvine displayed a colddisregard for the older woman's efforts, and went her own way. 

Elvine was strong, even as Jeffrey Masters was strong. But while theman's strength lay in the single purpose of achievement, Elvine lookedfor the ease and luxury which life could legitimately afford her. Elvine and her mother possessed far too much in common ever to havesympathy for one another. 

It was this very attitude which inspired an acrimonious half hour inthe somewhat pretentious parlor on Maple Avenue just before Jeff was topay his farewell call at the close of the Cattle Week. 

Elvine was occupied with a small note-book on the| pages of which therewere many figures. With a small gold pencil she was working out sums, which, apparently, were solely for her own edification. Shecommunicated nothing to her mother, who covertly glanced over at herfrom the fancy work she was engaged upon at the far side of the room. 

The room was such as might be found in any of the better middle-classhouses in a western city. Its furnishing was a trifle ornate. Comfortable chairs predominated, and their woodwork shone with anextreme lustre, or were equally aggressive in their modern fictitiousMission House style. The carpet and rugs were broadly floral andbright. There was altogether a modernity about the character of itwhich decidedly belonged to the gray-haired showiness of the wife ofJohn Carruthers. For all that, there was nothing absolutely untastefulabout Elvine's surroundings. The daughter would never have permittedsuch a thing. It was only modern, extremely modern. That type ofmodern which belongs to those homes where money is a carefulconsideration. 

At last Elvine closed her note-book and returned it to the rather largepocketbook which was lying in her lap. Her fine eyes were halfsmiling, and a faint tinge of color deepened her perfect cheeks. Shesighed. 

"We didn't do so badly at the races, Momma, " she said, more for her ownsatisfaction than her mother's information. "Guess I've got most allof it in and--I'm satisfied. "

"Maybe you are, my dear, " came the ungracious response. 

Her mother was bending over her work, nor did she trouble to raise hereyes in her daughter's direction. 

"That sounds as if somebody else wasn't. "

Elvine raised a pair of beautifully rounded arms above her head andrested the back of her neck upon her clasped hands. 

The gray head was lifted sharply. A pair of brilliant black eyes shota disapproving glance across the room. Then the mother continued herwork, shaking her head emphatically. 

"What's the use of a few dollars? He's going back to his ranchto-morrow, and--nothing's happened. "

There was something crude, almost brutal in the manner of it. Therewas something which on a woman's lips might well have revolted any man. But it was an attitude to which the daughter was used. Besides, itsaved her any qualms she might otherwise have had in pursuing her ownway under the shelter of her mother's roof. 

"I really can't see what you've to complain of, Momma, " Elvine laughed, without any display of mirth. "I guess if you wanted to marry a manyou'd leave him about as much chance as he'd have with a wildcat. "Then her smile died out. "Anyway it doesn't seem to be a matter forother folk to concern themselves with. I'm not a child. "

"No. But you're going to throw away the chance of a lifetime if youdon't act right now. Why, girl, Jeff Masters is the pick of the wholebunch of cattlemen around this district. He's going to be one of thecattle kings of the country, or I don't guess I know a thing. He'sright here to your hand, and as tame as a lap-dog. To-morrow he's offagain to the ranch, and that girl of his partner's will have him toherself for a year. Why, you're crazy to let him go. Four yearsyou've lived here since--since----"

"I wish you'd stop worrying, Momma--and, " the girl added withunconcealed resentment, "get on with your knitting. "

Elvine had risen to her feet. She moved swiftly over to the windowwhich gave on to a wide stoop, the roof of which was supported onwell-built rag stone columns. She was more angry than her wordsadmitted. Her fine eyes were sparkling, her delicately penciled browswere slightly knitted. 

She made a handsome picture. Her wealth of dark hair was carefullydressed, but with the usual consummate simplicity. Her figure wassuperb, with all the ripeness of maturity, but without the smallestinclination toward any gross development. She was statuesque, with allthe perfect cunning of Nature's art. She was a woman to find favor inany eyes, man's or woman's, and to perform that dual feat was a testwhich few women could hope to survive. 

The mother's reply came sharply and without yielding. 

"It's just four years since you came back to home. Five or more sinceyou first married. Anyway, you've sat around here for four yearshaving a good time without a thought of the future. You're spendingyour money, which didn't amount to----"

The girl flashed round. 

"I won't tolerate it. I just won't, Momma, " she cried, with an energywhich brought the other's eyes swiftly to her face. "You've talked offour years wasted, but you don't say a word of the other year, thefifth. It's taken me all that time to--forget what your judgment mighthave saved me from. Oh, yes. You know it just as well as I do. Don'tblind yourself. I was foolish then, I thought I was in love, and itwas the moment when the advice of a woman worth having might havehelped me. You urged me in my folly to marry then, the same as you'reurging me now. You saw everything you hoped for in that marriage, andyou let me plunge myself into a living hell without a single qualm. The result. Oh, I've tried to forget. But I can't I haven'tforgotten. I never shall forget. But I've learned. I certainly have. I've learned to think wholly for myself--of myself. I don't needadvice now. I don't need a thing. You'll never see things my way, andI don't fancy to see them yours. I shall marry. And when I marryagain I promise you I'll marry right, and, " she laughed bitterly, "Iguess I'll hand you the rake off which you're looking for. But, " shewent on, with a swift, ruthless candor which stung even the worldlyheart of the older woman, "I'll make no experimental practice. I'llmarry the man I want to, first because I like him, and second, becausehe's a right man, and can hand me the life I need. Maybe that's prettyhard sounding, but I tell you, Momma, it's nothing to the hardness thatmakes you talk the way you do. Anyway, I want you to get it fixed inyour mind right now I'm no priceless gem in a jewelry store that you'regoing to sell at the price you figure. I'll dispose of myself when, and to whom, I choose, and my motives will be my own. Now we'll quitit, once for all. Jeffrey Masters is coming right along down thesidewalk. "

The mother's black eyes snapped angrily. 

"Very well, " she exclaimed sharply. "See to it you make good. Yourfather's pension isn't even sufficient for two, and your own money islimited. Meanwhile, don't forget the Tristram girl's just as pretty asa picture. "

But Elvine's exasperation had passed. There was a slight softening inher eyes as they surveyed the handsome, elaborately dressed gray headand the careful toilet of her unlovely mother. She understood thebitter carping of this disappointed woman. Her spirit soared farbeyond the lot of the wife of a pensioned school-teacher. She knew, too, that somewhere, lost in some dim recess of a coldly calculatingnature, there was a tiny, glowing spot which burned wholly for her. 

There was an unusual softness in her tone when she replied. 

"But she needs framing, Momma, " she said lightly. "And anyway, a girlwho lives more or less on the premises with a man for five years or so, and hasn't married him--well, I guess she never will. "

 * * * * * *

The whole method of Jeff's life was rapidity of thought and swiftexecution supported by a perfect genius for clear thinking. It wasthese characteristics which had lifted him so rapidly in the world ofcattle he had made his own. It was these which had shown him thepossibilities of the now great Obar Ranch. 

It might have been claimed for him that he lacked many of the lovableweaknesses of human nature. It might have been said that he was hard, cold. Yet such was his passionate ambition beneath a cool, deliberateexterior that it would have been foolish to believe that his outwarddisplay was the real man. He was perhaps a powerfully controlled fire, but the hot tide ran strong within him, and the right torch at theright moment might easily stir the depths of him and bring their fierydisplay to the surface. 

Bud knew him. Bud understood something of the deep human tide flowingthrough his strong veins. Once he had seen that tide at the surface, and it had left an impression not easily forgettable. Nan, too, wasnot without understanding of him. But hers was the understanding ofher sex for an idol she had set up in her heart. Her knowledge of hisshortcomings and his best characteristics was perhaps the reflection ofher feelings for him, feelings which make it possible for a woman toendow any object of her profound regard with the virtues she would haveit possess. To her there was nothing of the iron, relentless, purposeful soul about him. He was just "Honest Jeff, " as she loved tocall him. A creature full of kindly thought for others as well asstrong in his own personal attitude toward life. 

For himself Jeff knew nothing of the emotions lying dormant within himuntil some chance happening stirred them from their slumbers and sentthem pulsating through his senses. He accepted the tide of life as hefound it, and only on his journey, swimming down its many currents, heendeavored by skilful pilotship to avoid the shoals, and seek thebeneficent backwaters so that his muscles and courage might bestrengthened for the completion of the task he had still before him. 

Elvine van Blooren had held the right torch at their first meetingduring the Cattle Week. One look into her beautiful eyes had set hissoul aflame, as all the years of his life spent in association with NanTristram had failed to do. Did she only know it, the first waltz withhim at the subsequent ball had completely made her mistress of hisdestiny. 

Again with his rapid, clear-thinking mind he had not only promptlyadmitted this truth to himself, but he reveled in the enchantment ofthe thought it inspired. He desired it. He regretted only thatfortune had so long denied him the contemplation of such delights. Hefelt he had never before lived. He had merely existed, something morethan a physical and mental machine, something less than a man. 

Something of all this stimulated his sensations during that ostensiblefarewell call upon the woman who had inspired the change. And, as hishungry eyes dwelt upon her great beauty, he became a prey to an impulsethat was irresistible. Why should this be a farewell? Why shouldthere ever be a farewell between them? There could be none. Then, tohis support came that steady determination which never failed him incrises. There should be no farewell. 

He was clad in sober conventional garb. There was only the bronzingupon his fair brow and firm cheeks to suggest the open air life thatwas his. His slim, powerful figure was full of an ease which caughtand held, and pleased Elvine van Blooren's fancy, and awoke in her morematerial mind something of the dreams which had driven her almostunthinkingly into the arms of her first husband. His fine blue eyeswere alight with possibilities which came near to overbalancing thecalculations of her mature mind. But, even so, she felt that theground was so safe under her feet that, even with the background of thepast ever in her memory, she could safely indulge her warmth of fancyto its full. 

They were alone in the little modern parlor. At another time Jeff musthave observed its atmosphere without enthusiasm, just now he welcomedit. It represented the intimate background of a beautiful woman'slife. This was the shrine of the goddess whom he had set up for hisown worship. Again there was no half measure. 

They were talking in that intimate fashion which belongs to the periodwhen a man and a woman have made up their minds that there remains noobstacle to the admission of mutual regard. 

"It's just wonderful to have done it all in so short a time, " Elvinesaid in her low even tones. 

Jeff had been talking of the Obar Ranch which was more precious to himthan a schoolboy's first big achievement in the playing fields. He hadbeen talking of it, not in the spirit of vain glory, but out of thedeep affection of a strong heart for the child of his own creation. 

"Oh, I guess it would have been wonderful with any other feller for apartner than Bud Tristram, " Jeff responded promptly. "As anenterprise, why, I guess it's my thought. As a success, it's Bud'sgenius for setting cattle prospering. Say, you can't handle a wideproposition right by reckoning up figures and fixing deeds of sale andpartnership. I allow you need to do some thinking that way. But whenit's all figgered right, why, the real practical man needs to get busyor the figgers aren't worth the ink an' paper you've used to make 'em. Bud's the feller of the Obars. I just sit around and talk wise when heneeds talk, which I don't guess is frequent. "

Jeff's smile was genuine. There was no false modesty that made himplace the credit of the Obar's success at Bud's door. The credit wasBud's. He knew it. And, with frank honesty, was only too ready toadmit it, and even advertise it. 

Elvine nodded. Her dark eyes were warmly returning his smile. 

"I like that, " she said simply. And she meant it. 

The blood mounted to the man's brow. He felt that he had forced her tomake the admission, and regarded his act with some shame. 

"Say, don't feel you've got to say that, " he said earnestly. "Youmustn't just think I'm asking your applause. These are simple factswhich I can't deny. I'd like to feel the sun just rises and setsaround my work, but if I did I'd be the same sort of fool as thosePharisee fellers in the Bible. Bud's a bully feller, and I'll owe himmore than I can ever hand him back just as long as I live. "

Elvine was comparing this man's big generosity with her understandingof most of the men she had ever known. She was thinking, too, of dayslong since passed, and events which even a wide distance of time hadnot succeeded in rendering mellow. 

She sighed. Somehow "Honest Jeff" was hurting her in a way she wouldnever have believed any man could hurt her--now. 

"This Bud Tristram's daughter--Nan. She's a pretty creature, " Elvinewent on, feeling their topic needed changing. 

Jeff's smile deepened. 

"She's pretty--right through to her soul, " came his prompt and earnestresponse. 

Elvine's eyes observed him closely. She laughed in a challengingfashion. 

"And she is still her father's daughter?"

Jeff flushed. Her meaning could not be mistaken. His impulse was tospeak out of the depth of a strong abiding regard for his friend's"little gal. " But he rejected the impulse. Time and his own desireswere pressing. 

"Oh, I guess she'll marry some fellow some day. Maybe he'll be goodenough----"

"And more than likely he won't. " Elvine's reply was emphatic. Shesuddenly sat forward in the deep rocker, and a great earnestness shonein her eyes. "I tell you no woman in this life has a right to be as'pretty' as you believe her to be, " she said with intense bitterness. "If I had my way every girl would be taught to reason for herself onthose things in life which make for her well-being. I'd make her thinkthat way before everything else. To me it is the direst cruelty ofProvidence that we should be left to become the prey of our ownemotions, and at the mercy of any man of whatever quality who cansufficiently stir them. Maybe you do not agree to that. But justthink of the awful position that every wretched, physically feeblewoman stands in in the life about her. I tell you no girl on her ownresources has much better than a dog's chance of getting through lifewithout disaster. Our emotions are the most absurdly foolish type itis possible to think of. I guess we can do things with our normalreason which would shame a whole asylum of crazy folk who can't be letrun around free. Oh, I'd like to know her better, to tell her, to warnher. I don't guess I've ever done good in the world, but I'd like to. If I could save one of my sex from some of the pitfalls lying around, maybe I'd feel I'd been some use. "

"Why not know her better? Say, Nan's no end of a good sort. She'd bereal glad. "

Jeff's invitation sounded lame, even to himself. But he was strugglingunder an emotion that made words difficult. 

Elvine laughed. 

"Would she? I wonder. "

Then she hurried on lest her observation should be interpreted. 

"And you're going to quit our city to-morrow for your wonderful ranch. I guess the Cattle Week's liable to bore folks who've real work in theworld--like you. It's just a week of show, and glitter, and ceremony, all those things which have no real place in the world of things thatmatter. But there, after all, I wonder what are the things thatmatter. And do they matter anyway? We have no guide. We're just leftto grope around and search for ourselves, and every folk's ideas aredifferent from every other folk's. I'm restless. I sort of feelthere's so much to be done in the world--if we only knew how, and what. "

The half-bantering manner of the woman did not disguise herearnestness. Jeff shook his head. 

"Guess I can't say. Guess none of us can--rightly. But why not comearound to the ranch and see things? See if you can worry out ananswer. See if you think the work we're doing matters. It certainlydoes matter to me, to us. But in the world. I don't know. Just now Isort of feel it don't. Just now I'm wondering whether I'll go backthere to-morrow. What do you say?"

"I? How can I say?"

Jeff laughed. 

"I don't guess there's a thing easier. " His eyes were shining as hetook in the girl's dark beauty. "Seems to me I'm beginning to wonderabout the things that matter myself. It's been a bully week. The sortof week some folks would write about in their secret diary. Guess Idon't keep a secret diary--except somewhere right in here. " He tappedhis breast. "I don't seem to feel I've ever had such a time, or everwill again, unless----"

"Unless?" Elvine was caught in the mood of the moment. This man wasexercising a fascination over her which had nothing to do with thecalculations she had laid down for the guidance of her sex. 

"Why, unless I add another week to it. "

"D'you think you could duplicate it then?"

"That just depends on--you. "

Elvine rose from her chair and moved toward the window. Jeff, too, left his chair. He stood tall and straight--waiting. 

Her back was turned to him. 

"It is not for me to say, " she replied without turning. 

"Why not?"

"Your work--in the world. "

"Can wait. There's always--Bud Tristram. "

Suddenly Elvine turned about. Her eyes were smiling, and full of alight which had not lived in them for several years. There was not ashadow of calculation in them now. 

She held out her hand in token of dismissal. 

"We had some fine rides--together, " she said. 

"My horses are still here. "

"And--the dances. They were--very pleasant. "

"Maybe they can be danced--again. "

"Good-bye, " she said, her beautiful hand lingering in his for a moment. 

"For the present, " Jeff added with decision. 

Then he mechanically glanced at his timepiece. His "farewell" call hadlasted over two hours. But even so it had been all too short for him. 

CHAPTER XII

THE TEMPERING

Bud was packing in his rooms at Aston's Hotel. It was late at night. Late as it was, however, he had only left Nan, engaged at a similaroccupation, less than half an hour ago. He had sat talking to her, andwatching her with eyes of deep concern while, with infinite care, shebestowed those beautiful gowns which mean so much in a woman's life. 

His visit to her had not been one of mere companionship. It had beeninspired by a sympathy he had no other means of displaying. He hadtalked to her; by every means in his power he had endeavored tointerest her in reminiscence of the week's doings. She listenedpatiently, almost submissively, for she understood the promptings ofhis endeavor. But she was too deeply plunged in her own discouragementto display real interest, and it had required every ounce of courageshe possessed to prevent herself falling to weeping. 

Nor was Bud at fault for a moment. He recognized the trouble lurkingin the sweet brown eyes. And with all his might he pretended not tosee. So, when his last effort to cheer had proved unavailing, he tookhis departure under the excuse of his own packing. 

He knew. Of course he knew. Had he not watched the progress of eventsthroughout the week? Had he not seen for himself how Jeff's fancy hadbeen caught? And she was very beautiful, this town-bred woman, beautiful with that healthy, downy complexion which Bud found did notfit with his idea of city "raised" women. He almost felt he hated her, yet he knew he had no right to his antagonism. Jeff was unpledged, hewas free. No woman had any claim on him. Not even Nan. Poor Nan. Hehad hoped to give her seven long days of unalloyed delight. He hadonly given her seven days of bitter disappointment and disillusion. 

He set about his packing with furious zest. In a moment, it seemed, his room was in a state of chaos. And all the while, as he bundledgarments together and flung them into his grips, his busy thought wenton in the only direction in which it seemed capable of moving just now. 

His mind had gone back to the days before their visit to Calthorpe. Heremembered the delighted anticipation which Nan had displayed. Herdisplays of happy affection for himself in the midst of her own greatlooking forward. The ravishing hours she had spent in choosingpatterns of material, and styles of gown. He remembered the brightsparkling eyes shining, it seemed to him, at all times. That wonderfullooking forward. Oh, the holiday of it had been nothing. There wasonly one thing, one thought, which had inspired the child. It wasJeff. It was a week that was to see honor done him, and she--she wasto join in honoring him. Jeff was the whole hub about which herhappiness revolved. 

He was pained. He was angry. And the vision of Elvine van Blooren'sdark beauty haunted him. He admitted it--her beauty. And for all hisdisquiet, his bitter feeling, he found it impossible to blame the man. 

Yes, for all his exasperation. For all he regarded Jeff as a "foolman, " he was just enough to remember that Nan was his own littledaughter, a pretty prairie girl, with nothing of the showy attractionof this city woman. Then Jeff's attitude toward her. It had neverbeen more than the sheerest friendliness. He reflected bitterly, even, that they might have been simply brother and sister. While the dreamof his life was some day to be able to pour out the wealth he wasstoring up into the out-stretched palms of their children. 

Well, it was a dream. And now it had come tumbling about his feet, andit almost looked to him as if poor little Nan's heart was to be buriedbeneath the debris. 

He flung his evening suit, which Nan had so much admired, into thegaping jaws of a large leather grip, with a disregard that more thanillustrated his feelings. Then he strove to close the grip tucking inthe projecting oddments of silk-lined cloth without the leastconsideration for their well-being. He felt he never wanted to wearsuch things again, never wanted even to see them. He and Nan belongedto the prairie, not to a city. That was good enough for them. Whatwas the use----?

But his reflections were interrupted by the abrupt appearance of Jeffhimself. Bud looked up as the door was unceremoniously thrust open, and his regard was quite unshaken by the depths of his feelings. Itdisplayed a mute question, however. 

Jeff began at once. 

"I saw the light through your transom, Bud, so I just came right in. "

Jeff was a shade paler than usual. There was a look of some doubt inhis blue eyes. And his manner hinted at a decision taken. A decisionthat had not been arrived at without some considerable exercise of mind. 

Slowly, as he regarded him, all Bud's bitterness subsided. If Nan werehis daughter, this man was almost a son to him. 

"Say, old friend, I'm--I'm not going back home with you to-morrow, "Jeff went on. He stirred with a suggestion of nervousness, and thenflung himself upon the old man's littered-up bed. "I just can't, an'that's a fact. I want to stop around here for a while. I got to. "

He paused as though awaiting an answer, but none was forthcoming. Onlywas there that steady regard from the man beyond the still open grip. 

Bud was not thinking of the announcement. Jeff was certainly a"good-looker, " and he was beginning to understand something of theattraction he must have for a woman like Elvine van Blooren. He wasslim and muscular, with a keen face of decision and strength. Then, was he not on the rising wave which must ever appeal to the maturermind of a widow, however young? His disappointment rose again andthreatened to find expression. But he thrust it aside and struggled toremember only his regard for the man. 

"D'you mind?" Jeff's question came nervously. 

Did he mind? It was a weak question. Coming from Jeff it soundedfoolish. Bud smiled, and his quiet sense of humor saved him fromhimself. 

"Why, if you feel that way I don't guess you need worry a thing, Jeff. "Then he added: "Guess Nan an' me'll get right along home. But it don'tneed to cut no ice. I take it you're askin' me to fix things right atthe Obars till you get around. That so?"

Jeff nodded. He was feeling that he was doing something mean, evenbrutal. He knew that what he contemplated must result in the bitterestdisappointment to his old friend. He had well enough known throughouttheir partnership Bud's yearning desire that he should marry Nan. Well, such a course was unthinkable now. Somehow it had never seemedreally possible. He was troubled, grievously troubled, but he wasdetermined now to act in the only honest way. He was determined thatBud should know the truth--at all costs. 

"I'd be thankful to you, Bud. "

"You don't need to say a word. It's fixed. "

For some moments no other word was spoken. There was awkwardness. Butit was with Jeff alone. He feared the result of what he must tell. 

"You're--packing?" he said presently. 

Bud sat himself heavily into a rocker. 

"Yep. Lestways I don't guess Nan 'ud call it that way. " He raked hiscurly iron-gray hair with his strong fingers, and gazed ruefully at thechaos. 

"Maybe I can help some. "

Bud shook his head, and his smile was good. 

"Guess one darn fool's enough playin' this game. When're you comingalong to--home?"

"Maybe a week. "

The reply was prompt. 

"An'--you'll bring her along with you?"

The eyes of the two men met. Each was reading the other like an openbook. 

Jeff shook his head. Somehow there was nothing absurd to him in Bud'ssuggestion. There was nothing startling even in the probing of hissecret with so much directness. 

"I haven't asked her--yet. "

Then it was that the big heart of the friend, who was almost a father, made itself apparent. 

"But you're goin' to, Jeff. An' she's goin' to take you. Say, Jeff, she's one lucky woman. "

In a moment the tide of the younger man's feelings was set flowing. Ina moment the egoism of the lover made a generous nature forget all elsebut the passion that absorbed him. In a moment the thought that thisman was Nan's father, and that the dearest wish of his life was thathe, Jeff, should marry his daughter, was forgotten. 

"Lucky? But you got it wrong, Bud, " Jeff cried, sitting erect, hisface flushed with the passionate stirring of Ills strong heart. "It'sI who'll be lucky, if she don't turn me down. Man, I'm not worth thedust on her shoes. I'm not fit to lackey for her. Nor--nor is anyother feller. Say, Bud, " he went on, leaning impressively forward, hiseyes shining with his passion, "I'm just crazy to death for her. And--and I can't just help it. I'd go through hell's flames for her, man, I'd----"

"Say, boy, don't worry that-a-way. Jest marry her instead, " Bud brokein with his gentlest smile. "You're all sorts of a boy, Jeff, and Idon't figger you got call to talk about the dust of any woman's shoes. But I guess ther's times when it's good fer a man to feel he ain't asbig as he's told. Anyways, you get right ahead, and leave me to theObars. I ain't goin' to fail you now, any more than any other time. "Then he rumpled his stubbly hair again, and it was an action thatsuggested heavy thought. "Say, " he went on, a moment later, his eyeslooking squarely into the face of the other, "we're hittin' the trailgood an' early to-morrow. Guess you best let me say 'good-bye' to Nanfor you. That so?"

Jeff nodded. He understood. And somehow the bigness of this man madehim almost despise himself. 

"Then I guess I'll get right on with my--packin'. "

 * * * * * *

They were standing on the stoop of Aston's Hotel. In front of them thebroad Avenue opened out with its central walk, between an aisle ofwide-spreading maple trees bathed in the early morning sun. A springwagon was already moving away, piled up with baggage. The saddlehorses were ready, held by one of the hotel servants. Nan, in herriding costume, was waiting while her father exchanged a few partingwords with the hotel manager. 

"Guess you're right. It's been a darn good week this year. The bestin my memory. I'd say the Conference was a heap better attended, an'the weather's been just great. We got through a deal o' legislation, too. Guess things are goin' to hum, with the Obars at the head of 'emthis year. Our big play is to be dealin' with rustlers. We got a hellof a piece o' leeway to make up. Four years ago we guessed we'd got'em fixed where we wanted 'em. But they hatched out since like a broodo' wolf cubs. So long. "

"Mr. Masters is stopping on for a while, " the manager observed, withthat intimate touch which he always practiced with his more influentialcustomers of the cattle world. 

"Why, yes. " Bud's eyes were watching Nan as she mounted her pony, carefully held by a solicitous barn-hand. Under other circumstancesthe man's attention would have afforded him amusement. Just now he wasregretting the manager's remark. "Y'see, ther's a deal to fix. Seein'he's president this year, why, I guess it's up to him to kep his ladlebusy in the soup. "

He moved off the stoop and took his horse from the waiting man. Heswung himself into the saddle with an agility which belied his years. 

He waved one great hand in response to the manager's deferential bow, and turned his horse away. In a moment Bud and Nan were riding side byside down the wide Avenue. 

It was a long time before either attempted to break the silence betweenthem. They had even reached the outskirts of the city before Nanbroached the subject from which her father admittedly shrank. 

"I'm glad Jeff didn't get up to see us off, " she said imply. Then shelaughed softly. "Y'see, Daddy, there's times for most things; and'good-byes' in the early morning are a bit like cold baths in winter. "

Bud eyed his daughter with a quick sidelong glance, and then continuedhis survey of the trail ahead as it lifted over a gentle grassy slope. They were passing the last houses of the town, and ahead lay the tawnyfields which made the country one of the greatest pastures in the world. 

"Ther'd been no sort o' sense his turning out around sun-up to see usfolks off. It ain't goin' to be weeks before he gets back home. "

"No. "

Nan's smile remained, and Bud, for all his avoidance of it, was awarethat was so. It was a smile that cut him to the heart, and yet he wassimple man enough to find relief in it. 

"There'll be a deal for him to fix before he gets back home, " Nan wenton. 

She spoke in the earnest fashion of deep consideration. Bud glancedround at her again, steadying his powerful horse to permit her pony topush its nose ahead. Her manner had startled him. But he refrainedfrom the folly of replying. He had that in his mind to impart thethought of which nearly broke his heart. But it must be told, and byhim. And a passionate desire to lighten the blow made him watchdesperately for the best opportunity. 

But he was dealing with a nature stronger, deeper, more honest andclear-sighted than he knew. He was dealing with a woman who couldsacrifice all to the well-being and happiness of those she loved. WithNan self held a particularly subservient place to every other emotion. And when it did manage to obtrude itself it was her way to fight herbattle alone, at a time when no prying eyes were there to witness hersufferings. To the daylight she presented a pair of sweet brownsmiling eyes, and lips as full, and ripe, and firm as though no shadowof doubt and unhappiness had ever crossed her path. 

She went on rapidly, speaking as though the matter under considerationwere fully accepted between them. 

"It's queer how things fix themselves the way you don't guess, " shesaid reflectively. "Just one week, and they're changed around in a waythat makes you wonder if you aren't dreaming. It's sort of like theIndian summer, isn't it? There's the beautiful light of the full sunon colors that set you 'most crazy with delight. Pictures that makeyou feel Providence is just the biggest painter ever set brush tocanvas. Then, with a shiver of wind from the north, down the leavestumble, and right on top of 'em comes the snow, and then you're movingaround in a sort of crystal fairy web, and wonder when you'll wake up. A week ago Jeff didn't even know her; she wasn't in the world so far ashe knew. Now he's going to marry her. "

Nan stated the fact without a tremor of voice, without a shadow ofhesitation. The sunny smile was entirely without a cloud. Her fatherstared down at her from his superior height with eyes wide withastonishment and something of alarm. 

"Say, did Jeff tell you?" he asked sharply. 

Nan shook her head. 

"Then how in hell d'you know it all? Say----"

"How d'you know anything that affects you here, Daddy?" the girlretorted, gently indicating her soft rounded bosom with one gauntletedhand. 

Then her smile broke out again, and the man's trouble was furtherincreased. 

"Y'see, I don't mind saying things to you. You're my Daddy and Mommaall rolled into one. And there's sure a heap of you for two, " shesmiled up at him. "Maybe you don't always say all the things you feel, but it don't keep me guessing long. You'd a heap of terr'ble, terr'blethings on your mind to say to me on this ride. Oh, and they weighedheavy. Your poor worried face had lost all its smile, and your eyesjust looked as if you'd been lying awake nights an' nights, an' you'dseen every sort of nightmare ever thought of in the world of dreams. It made me kind of sorry, and I just couldn't wait for you to make thatbig talk you figgered on. "

Bud was gazing far out ahead at the brilliant sky-line where the crestsof grass-land cut the line in perfect undulations. Nan's gently drawnsigh was like the stab of a knife in his heart. His feelings at thatmoment were too deep for words. And so the girl went on in a voicethat struck fresh chords of sympathy in the soul of the man whoidolized her. 

"It seems to me, my Daddy, that we often think things that a great bigSomeone don't guess are good for us to think. We sort of set up hopeswe've no right to. An' when we do, why, we've got to be handed ourlessons. Sometimes the lesson is pretty tough, sometimes I don't guessit's a deal worse than a pin-prick. Anyway, lessons aren't joyousthings at best, not even pin-pricks. Well, if folks are right they'lljust learn their lessons all they can without kicking, and if they geta hunch on, why, I don't figger it's likely to make 'em harder. I'vebeen learning my lesson a whole week now, and, yes, I've got it right. Oh, I've had to work. It hasn't been easy. And somehow, my Daddy, allthese lovely, lovely gowns, and the thought of the generous hands thatgave them to me, have helped me to learn quicker, and--better. "

She paused again. Their horses were ambling leisurely along over thesandy trail. They moved together, side by side, in a closeness ofcompanionship which perhaps symbolized that of their riders. 

"I jest don't know what to say, Nan. I surely don't, " Bud lumbered atlast with a half-bewildered drawing together of his heavy brows. "Itdon't seem I ken even think right--about it. "

Nan gazed up into his big troubled face with the frank eyes that lookedwholly untroubled. 

"Don't try, my Daddy. Guess I've done all that's necessary that way. Maybe I know just how you're feeling, because I know how I'm feeling. God's been good to me all my years. He's given me a Daddy who's thebest in the world. A Daddy who's taught me by his own example how tobe strong and fight the little battles I guess it's meant for us tofight. Oh, I won't say it hasn't hurt, " she went on, with a catch inher voice. "You see, I loved Jeff. I love him now, and I'll go righton loving him to the end. And it's because I love him I want to helphim now--and always. You won't think me a fool girl, my Daddy, willyou, but--but--I won't hate Elvine van Blooren. I'm--I'm going to tryso hard to like her, and--and anyway, with all my might, I'm going tohelp them both. D'you guess Jeff would let me get his house readyfor--his wife?"

The father's reply came with a violence which he calculated shouldconceal an emotion which his manhood forbade, but which only helped toreveal it the more surely to the clear eyes of the girl at his side. 

"Hell take the bunch--the whole of 'em!" he cried fiercely. Then headded weakly: "You're nigh breakin' my heart all to pieces. "

But Nan's smile suddenly became radiant, as she turned her brown eyesaway from the spectacle of her father's trouble to the distant horizonahead. 

She shook her head. 

"No, my Daddy. I allow it feels that way just now. I've felt thatway, too. But it's just God's tempering. And when it's through, why Iguess our hearts'll be made of good metal, strong and steady to do thework He'd have us do. And that's just all we can ask, isn't it?"

CHAPTER XIII

THE NEWS

Nan rode up to the veranda of the ranch house and sprang lightly fromthe saddle. Her pony's flanks were caked with sweat. The days now, asthey approached July, were blistering, and the work of the great ranchwas heavy for everybody. Nan had constituted herself Jeff's substituteduring his absence, and performed his share of the labor with a skilland efficiency which astonished even her father. 

She was a little weary just now. The heat was trying. Four weeks ofcontinuous effort, four weeks of day-long saddle work, superintendingthe distant out-stations, the pasture fencing, the re-branding, whichnever seemed to come to an end, the hundred and one little duties whichalways cropped up unexpectedly; these things, in conjunction with theintense heat and the constant trouble which she held safely screenedbehind her smiling eyes, were not without effect upon her, althoughdisplay was only permitted when no other eyes were present to witnessher weakness. 

It was the ranch house dinner time. Bud was due, as was the return ofthe men who belonged to the home station. 

Nan released the cinchas of her saddle and removed her pony's bridle. Then, with a sharp pat upon the creature's quarters, she sent itstrolling off toward the open pasture, in which the windmill pump keptthe string of watering tubs ready for the thirsty world about it. 

She watched the animal as it flung itself down for a roll. Itsungainly, thrusting legs held her interest. Then, as it scrambled toits feet and shook itself, and headed for the water, she seated herselfin a low wicker chair and wiped the dust from her long riding bootswith the silk handkerchief she wore loosely tied about her neck. A fewmoments later her brown eyes were gazing fixedly out at the shimmer ofheat which hovered low over the distant horizon. 

She was meditating deeply, her tired body yielding to the greateractivity of her thought. The scene was lost to her. Her gaze spedbeyond the maze of corrals, and the more distant patchwork of fencedpastures to the western boundary of her beloved Rainbow Hill Valley. There was nothing but grass, endless grass, until the purple line ofthe wood-clad mountains was reached. And here it was that her regardfound a resting place. But even so she was unaware of it, for herthoughts were miles away in another direction. 

Her courage had reaped its natural harvest. Her labors had yielded hera peace of mind which at one time had seemed impossible. She couldreflect calmly now, if not without a world of regret and sadness. Justnow, in the brief interval of waiting for her father for their middaymeal, her relaxed body permitted her thoughts to wander toward the citywhere Jeff was still held captive by toils she herself had been unableto weave about him. 

She had had her desire. She had pressed her less willing father intoher service, and through him she had obtained the right to see thatJeff's house was made ready. It had been a labor of love in itshighest sense, for not one single detail of her efforts but had been afresh laceration of her loyal soul. In her mind it was never possibleto shut out the memory that everything that was for Jeff was also for awoman who had plucked the only fruit she had ever coveted with herwhole heart. There had been moments of reward, however, a reward whichperhaps a lesser spirit might never have known. It was the passionatesatisfaction that her hands, her love, were able to minister to thewell-being of the man she loved, for all that another woman occupiedher place in his heart. 

Feelings such as these filled her heart now. They had so filled itthat morning during her hour of superintending the work of the buildersengaged upon the reconstruction of Jeff's house. This was nearlycompleted, and somehow she felt when all the preparations were finishedthe last support must be banished forever. Then there would be nothingleft her but to watch, perhaps from afar, the happiness of the otherwoman basking in the love for which she would willingly have given herlife. 

There were moments when her spirit furiously rebelled, when she feltthat the sacrifice was too great, when the limits of human enduranceforbade submission to her lot. They were moments when mad jealousyrose up and threatened her bulwark of spiritual resistance. And atsuch time her battle was furious and hard, and she emerged therefromscarred and suffering, but with a spirit unbroken and even strengthened. 

Then her pride, a small gentle thing, added its quota to her support. No one should pity her, no one should ever, ever know anything of thesufferings she endured. No, not even her beloved father. So hersmile, even her ready laughter, was enlisted in her support, and themanner of her discussion of the work on Jeff's house was an educationin courageous acting. 

But her father remained wholly undeceived. He saw with a visionrendered doubly acute by perfect sympathy. He read through every smileto the tears lying behind it. He noted the change in the tone of thelaugh. He missed nothing of the painful abstraction at odd momentswhen Nan believed she was wholly unobserved. Nor did he misinterpretthe language these things expressed. But for all his heart bled forthe girl--and in his moments of solitude he bitterly cursed the womanwho had robbed him of a son, and heaped every scathing epithet of hisrough vocabulary upon the head of the man himself--he gave no sign thatthe fair world about them concealed shadowed corners, or that the lifewhich was theirs was not one triumph of eternal delight. Thus was Nanhelped, all unconscious of the help so given. So she was able to playthe part her courage and gentleness of spirit had assigned to her. 

Presently a horseman came within sight, out of the northwest. It wasthe direction of Jeff's ranch house. A moment of deliberate scrutinyrevealed the man's identity. It was Lal Hobhouse, second foreman ofthe Obar, the man who, before the amalgamation, was Jeff's foreman. 

Nan wondered what was bringing him in at this hour. Usually his visitsto their headquarters were made in the evening when the work of the daywas completed. 

The man rode up and found Nan interestedly waiting to receive him. There was a touch of anxiety in her tone as she greeted him. 

"No trouble, Lal?" she demanded, as the man reined up his pony. Thedirect manner of the girl was largely the result of her newresponsibilities. 

Lal Hobhouse was a lean-faced specimen of sun-dried manhood. Hisappearance suggested all wires and indifference to the nicenesses oflife. His long moustache drooped mournfully below his square chin. And his fierce black eyes were full of a violent heat, rendered moresavage for its bottling up during his long ride. 

"Trouble?" Then he exploded with a furious oath, and his volcanictemper drowned the sunburn of his cheek under a living heat. "Themrustlers. Them lousy bums, " he cried almost choking. "That bunch o'yearlings--Shorthorn yearlings, Miss. Thirty of 'em--picked right outof the bush corrals where we'd got 'em for re-brandin'. Say, Bud--yourfather, Miss, " he corrected himself. "He ain't around?"

But Nan's interest was in the work of the rustlers. Not in his finalinquiry. Her pretty eyes were wide and hard with the anger his newshad inspired. 

"The Shorthorn yearlings, Lal?" she demanded. "Our prize stock?"

"Sure, Miss. Them. That's them. God blister their filthy carkises!May they stew in hell!"

He spat over his horse's shoulder as though to emphasize his furiousdisgust But his forcefulness was displeasing. 

"Guess you best off-saddle, " Nan said coolly. "Father'll be alongright now. You'll need food. Say, what boys you got out there?" sheinquired as the man slipped out of the saddle and began to unfasten thecinchas. 

"Why, just the same four damn fools, an'--Sikkem. "

"And they're following up the trail?"

"Sure. " The man flung off the saddle and his horse mouched away. 

"Psha!" he cried, turning his fierce eyes upon Nan. "What's the useanyway?" His gesture was one of helpless disgust. "They're out. Binout since daylight. An' I guess they've as much chance roundin' thatcrowd up as they would huntin' bugs in a hundred acre pasture. Sikkem's about the brightest. But he ain't no sort o' good after abunch of rustlers. I wouldn't trust him with a dead mule o' mineanyway. The boss hangs to him as if he was the on'y blamed cowpunchereast o' the mountains because he's handy. I don't like him, Miss, an'---- Say, how did them rustlers know 'bout them calves? Ther's twohundred head o' beeves out there, an' they passed 'em right over ferthe Shorthorns. "

The man's argument and distrust of the man Sikkem made a deepimpression on Nan. She had listened to some of the latter before. ButJeff's predilection for the dark-faced half Greaser had left hersceptical of Lal's opinion. Now, however, she was seriously impressed. 

At that moment Bud himself rode up at a gallop, and behind him rodefour of the home station boys. The pace at which he came was unusual, and Nan's troubled eyes promptly sought his face. 

Instantly her greeting died upon her lips, which tightened ominously. His usually steady gray eyes were hot and fierce, and his face was set. The comfortable lines about his mouth were drawn hard and deep. Sheneeded no word to tell her that further trouble was abroad. 

He scarcely waited for his horse to come to a halt. He was out of thesaddle in a moment, and his great figure towered before the foreman, whom he took in with an angry stare. 

"What's brought you in?" he demanded, with a dangerous calm. Then thecalm broke before his storm of feeling. "Don't tell me ther's troublearound your layout, too, " he cried, without waiting for reply. Then heturned on Nan, who was still on the veranda. "Say, Nan, they done it. The rotten swines have done it. They shot 'Jock' up!"

"The Highland bull?" Nan gasped. 

"Yes. That's it. " Bud laughed furiously. "That bull I imported lastfall for three thousand dollars, " he went on, turning back to theforeman. "They shot him up and drove off his twenty-five cows from theCoyote Bluff pastures. Dirty spite an' meanness. The white-liveredscum!" Then with a fierce oath the usually even-tempered Bud hurledhis wrath upon the waiting man. "Gorl darn it, you're standin' aroundlike a barbed wire fence post. What in hell's brought you around now?What they done your way?"

His manner roused the foreman to a soreness he wasn't slow in showing. 

"Jest thirty Shorthorn yearlings, " he said without any attempt tosoften the blow. "Jest thirty--prize stock. "

The announcement had an unlooked-for effect. Where Nan expectedanother furious display Bud remained silent. His eyes were wide asthey stared into the foreman's. But no word came. Then, after a fewmoments, he began to laugh and Nan understood. She felt it was eitherthat, or--her father would break something. 

"Well, I go plumb to hell!" he cried at last. And Nan felt relieved atthe sound of his voice. 

The next moment Lal Hobhouse was pouring out his story with a redundantselection from his choicest vocabulary of abusive epithet, which wasimpartially divided between the rustlers and the cowhands under hischarge. Nan waited patiently, her eyes studying her father's face. But whatever his feelings he permitted them no further display, and, atthe conclusion of the story, instead of offering comment, or revertingto his own discoveries, he turned to his daughter with a smile. 

"Food on, Nan?" he inquired, in his easy way. "Guess I'm needin'food--pretty bad. Maybe we'll feel better after. "

Then he turned to the men who stood around. 

"Git on down to the bunkhouse an' feed, boys. One o' you grab my plug. After, we'll get around out with Lal here. I----"

He broke off as Nan darted away down the veranda. The mail man hadjust clattered up to the front of the house, and she had gone to meethim. 

Bud passed his horse on to one of the men, and, with heavy strides, clanking with the rattle of his heavy Mexican spurs, his leather chappscreaking as he moved, he mounted the veranda and made his way into thehouse. 

 * * * * * *

Nan entered the parlor with her hands full of mail. The meal was laidready, and a colored girl was setting the chairs in their places. 

"I'll jest get a clean up, Nan, " her father said, without a singletrace of his recent display. "Guess I'm full of dust. "

He passed through the little room like some overwhelming mammoth. Heseemed altogether too vast for the small home, which had never grownwith his other worldly possessions. Nan watched him go. Then she laidthe mail down on a side table and began to sort it out. 

There were a number of letters for Jeff. These she set carefully asidein a pile by themselves for redirection. There were several addressedin girlish hands to herself. For Bud there were only a few. Sheglanced over the superscription of each. One or two were easilyrecognized business letters. There was a paper, however, addressed inJeff's hand, and a letter of considerable bulk. These were what shehad been looking for. She pushed the bunkhouse mail aside, andregarded reflectively the outer covering of Jeff's letter to her father. 

It was not the first he had received from Jeff during the four weekssince their return home. But its bulk this time was out of theordinary, and the carefully folded news sheet was more thaninteresting. It awakened every doubt, every fear to which she had beena prey. 

The rapid beating of her heart left her with a choking sensation. Vivid imagination was at work, and she was reading in fancy under thosecovers that which, sooner or later, she knew she must read in fact. 

These were bad moments for the girl, moments which found her againstruggling with that self which left her little enough peace. Perhapsthe struggle lasted five minutes. Perhaps less. At any rate it seemedan eternity to Nan before the hired girl announced the meal. 

Nan sighed as she moved from the side table on which the mail wasspread out. 

"Give father a call, " she said, and took up a position at the openFrench window. 

Her back was turned when Bud responded to the summons. The cold sluicehe had just indulged in seemed to have entirely restored hisequanimity. His voice came cheerily. 

"Guess we best set in, little gal, " he said, moving to his place at thetable. "We'll need to get busy after. "

Nan turned. She watched Maimie deposit the hot dishes. Then, when thegirl had withdrawn, she took her place opposite her father. 

"There's a deal of mail for Jeff, " she said, as she sat down. "There'ssome for you, too, Daddy. There's a letter and--a newspaper. Maybeyou'd feel like reading them right away. Guess there won't be timeafter. "

With all her might she struggled for indifference. With all her mightshe desired that her father should miss the fears which prompted her. But she only succeeded in telling him of them in every word she spoke. 

Bud agreed readily. He rose and fetched his letter--and the newspaperwhich Nan so feared. 

Nan went on with her food. Her father tore open the covering of theletter. She was watching him covertly and silently whilst he read pageafter page. She was searching for confirmation of her worst fears. She was torturing herself. 

Bud's dissimulation was never great. Nan watched the play of hisexpression. There was no smile. As the silent moments passed his browbecame heavier. The furrow deepened between his eyes, and once therecame that rather helpless raising of his hand to his forehead. Then, too, she observed the compression of his lips, and the occasionaldilation of his nostrils. Each observation carried conviction, and theweight upon her heart grew almost insupportable. 

Finally he laid the letter down and went on with his meal. But he didnot even glance at the wrappered newspaper. 

In self-defense Nan was forced to break the silence. If it hadremained she felt she must scream. Instead she smiled over at him, andindicated the newspaper. 

"The _Calthorpe Times_, isn't it?" she said without a tremor. 

"Can't say. "

The harsh tone was intended to convey indifference. 

"Won't you open it?" she asked. "Maybe Jeff's marked a piece. "

Then Bud gave a display such as Nan had never witnessed in him before. 

"Say, ain't we never to get food a feller ken eat?" he cried. "Thatnigger slut needs firin' right away. Guess she couldn't cook a dryhash on a round-up. I'm quittin'. This stew 'ud choke a she-wolf. "

His eyes were hot. He thrust his plate away from him and pushed backhis chair. But Nan's calmness defeated his almost childlike subterfuge. 

"Say, my Daddy, you don't need to quit. Sure, " she added, a patheticsmile lighting her brown eyes, "I guess the stew's pretty good to anyhungry folks, and Maimie's just the dandiest cook anywhere around. "

She paused. Bud stood yearning for five minutes of unrestrainedblasphemy as he read the understanding lying behind her words. 

"I don't guess it's the food worrying, or Maimie's cooking, " Nan wenton, almost at once. "It's your letter. Maybe there's a heap of thingsin it you aren't yearning to hand over to me. " A sigh escaped her. "Will I tell you of them? Maybe one'll be sufficient. It's the oneworrying you most. It's--it's his marriage. It's fixed. The date--Imean. "

Then she pointed at the unopened paper. 

"Likely it's in that. And that's why he's sent it. Shall I see?"

She reached out and picked up the offending packet, and, with a swiftmovement, ripped the fastening open with one finger. Without a wordshe unfolded the sheet, seeking a marked passage. It was there, as sheknew it would be. It was found in a twinkling. No one could havemissed it. Heavy ink outlined it in the column of "City Chatter, " andshe read the paragraph aloud without a tremor of voice. Herdeliberateness nearly drove the ranchman to distraction. 

"The friends of Mrs. John D. Carruthers will be interested to learnthat the marriage of her daughter, Mrs. Elvine van Blooren, widow ofthe late Robert van Blooren, to Jeffrey Masters, of the celebrated'Obar' Ranch, and this year's President of the Western Union CattleBreeders' Association, is to be solemnized at the Church of St. Mary inthis city on August 4th next. The Rev. Claude I. Carston, M. A. , will----"

There was more of it, much more, referring in the usual localjournalistic fashion to the "happy event, " and dwelling upon theimportant "social standing" of the bride and bridegroom. But Nan readno further then. There was no need to. Was not the completeness ofher disaster contained in those lines? The courage of the front shedisplayed before the sympathetic eyes of her father was superlative. 

There was just a pause. It was the tragic pause under a staggeringblow. Then she forced a smile into the brave eyes, which never for amoment fell before the other's regard. 

"There! There, my Daddy, " she said, with a studied calm which did notconceal the dry-throated swallow which accompanied the words. "I guessit was how I thought. You were scared. Scared to tell me. " She shookher head. "It's--it's not very brave, is it? I wonder why you werescared? You needn't have been. Folks don't need to be scaredof--anything. What you need most is just to--to grit your teethand--die hard. "

Her manner was becoming abstracted. It seemed as if she wereaddressing herself, warning herself, and fighting down a weakness whichwas threatening to overwhelm her. 

Presently she went on, while the man stood by utterly robbed of thepower to comfort her:

"August the fourth, " she murmured. "August--that's six weeks from now. Six weeks of--sunshine and--and warmth. When the harvest's ripening, and all the world's just--glad. And he'll be glad, and--and happy, too. Yes, Jeff will be very, very happy because--she's going to makehim happy. "

Quite suddenly she started up from her chair. A dreadful panic hadleaped to her eyes. The delicious, healthy color had been swept fromher pretty downy cheeks. The corners of her sweet mouth were drooping, and her hands were held out in a gesture of despairing appeal. 

"Daddy, Daddy, he will--he will be happy, won't he?" she cried. "I--Ijust need him to be happy, more--yes, more than anything in the world. Sure, sure, she'll make him happy? Oh, if she doesn't!"

Still the man looked on, a helpless spectator of the girl's suffering. Nor did it seem that his own was any less. But Nan seemed to realizethe weakness in her momentary display. Her hands dropped to her side. There was even a visible effort in the manner in which she strove forself-mastery. Her smooth brow puckered in an intense frown, and, toBud, it almost seemed that she was literally clenching her teeth tohold back the passionate distress which was seeking to find expression. 

After a moment something of full self-possession seemed to return toher. She smiled. But it was a smile that lacked conviction. A smilethat almost broke her father's heart. 

"Tell me, Daddy, " she pleaded. "Do you think--he'd--he'd have me bea--a bridesmaid? Would it sort of help him any?" she hurried on. "Yousee, I--I want him to be real happy. I want him to feel that we justlove him, and that--that--we're just glad for him, and--and nothing inthe world else matters--to anybody. I'm so----"

There was a little catch of breath. The words she would have spokendied upon her lips. She reeled. Every vestige of color left herpretty face, and her eyes half closed. Just for one weak instant herhands groped behind her for the chair. Then, the next, Bud was at herside, and one strong arm was supporting her. 

"Don't, Nan!" he cried, in his heavy cumbersome way. And the sound ofhis deep voice alone served to ward off the encroachment of that finalweakness which, in spite of all her courage, the girl was at lastcompelled to yield to. 

Bud drew her to him, and one hand smoothed her pretty brown hair withrough tenderness. For a moment her head rested against his broadbosom. Then a deep sigh came, and Nan looked up, smiling into thesteady gray eyes gazing down at her, through a mist of welling tears. 

"My dear--dear old Daddy, " she murmured, as the tears finallyoverflowed and slowly rolled down her cheeks. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE KNOCKING ON THE DOOR

It seemed like the hand of Destiny that Elvine van Blooren shouldwander across the path of Jeffrey Masters at a moment when all thefruits of his ambition seemed to be falling into his outspread-hands. It was surely the work of Fate that instant recognition of herdesirability leaped in his heart, so that some six weeks later theyshould set out on their life's journey together on the eastward boundmail train, which bore, in its foremost van, the mails for the worldoutside, gathered in from every district in the region of Calthorpe. 

Their happiness was perfect. In six weeks' time the metamorphosis inthe woman had been as complete as it was in the case of the man. 

For the man it seemed that life had opened out an entirely new vista. He had warmed under the influence of his new passion. The angles inhis character seemed to have softened. Achievement had receded intoits due proportion in his focus. The world had become peopled withwarm living creatures whose strivings were now a source of sympathy tohim. Life no longer moved about him detached, unappealing. 

So with the woman. Elvine van Blooren's past was her own. Whatever itwas she hugged it to herself, and the very process of doing so hadhelped to harden her. 

But she possessed fires she had wilfully hidden, even from herself. For four years she had lived a life of desperate calculation againstall those things she most dreaded, till she felt she had convertedherself into a machine free from all trammeling emotions, equippedsolely to execute the purpose she had set her mind on. 

These fires were awakened early. Their awakening had been all unknownto her. Yet she had admitted them when she had warned her mother thatshe intended to "like" the man she ultimately married. Allsubconsciously she had "liked" Jeffrey Masters from their first formalmeeting. Further acquaintance had deepened her liking. The keen eyespossessed strong qualities of appeal. The decision of his clean-cutface suggested all that strength which appealed to her. 

The culmination was reached long before the appointed day of theirwedding. It came at the moment he definitely asked her to become hiswife. It had been a moment to her than which she had dreamed ofnothing more sublime. The flood-gates had been literally forced openbefore a tide of sudden passion, which left her gasping, and somethingincredulous. Where was all the result of her years of hardcalculation? Where was that machine upon which she had gazed with somuch confident pride? It had only served her just so long as wasrequired to realize that Jeffrey Masters was sufficiently desirable tofulfil the purposes of the life she had marked out for herself. Then, the primitive woman in her had abandoned herself to the glowing firesburning deep within her young heart. 

Thus the bond held them both through delicious days, which so littletime before had seemed impossible to either. Thus the time drew ontoward the golden day of consummation. And with each passing dayfirmer and firmer, more and more irresistible, grew the ties underwhich they were held. 

As the local press had foreshadowed, the event of their marriage provedof primary social importance. All Calthorpe speeded them upon theirlife's journey, and the east-bound mail bore them away with the echo ofcheery farewells, and every other form of speeding, dying pleasantlyaway behind them. So, too, the snake-like string of coaches bore theburden of Destiny in the great uninteresting, padlocked baskets andbags which contained the mail. 

The days of the honeymoon had been carefully thought out by Elvine. Her wishes had been supreme. Toronto was their first destination. Acity whose bright, pleasant life appealed to her more, perhaps, eventhan any of the great cities of the greater world. 

Perfect happiness was theirs from the moment of their departureeastward. No cloud drifted in sight during their first day in thegreat hotel from which they intended to view the life of Toronto. Thencame the second morning, and the--mail. 

They occupied a suite of rooms upon the first floor of the hotel. Itoverlooked the wide portico which supported a deep balcony devoted totheir sole use. Jeff was alone in the luxurious sitting-room when themail was brought in by a waiter. He was glancing down the morningpaper while he waited for Elvine, who was preparing for a morning roundof the stores. 

His attention for the news he read was less than scant. It is doubtfulif he read more than the head-lines, and these only with partialunderstanding. His mind was upon the beautiful woman in the adjacentapartment arraying herself with all the arts of a woman in love for thebenefit of the man whose regard is alone worth while. 

His eyes were smiling unconsciously; something of the keenness of hiswhole expression had become lost under their new expression. Dressedin the simple garb of civilization he had little about him, beyond theintense sunburn of his face, to remind one of the urgent young ranchmanwho had first planned the combination which was to develop into thefamous Obar Ranch. 

At the arrival of the mail he flung his paper aside. Then he picked upeach letter in turn, examined the address, and set aside, in a separatepile, those addressed to his wife. Of his own there were only four, and, of these, only the one addressed in Bud's cumbersome handwritinginterested him seriously. 

Before opening it he pierced and lit a cigar. He felt that from itsbulk the letter must contain important reports from the ranch, and, coming at such a time, would need the steadying influence of a cigar toenable him to give them the consideration necessary. 

He lounged back in the big chair and leisurely tore open the envelope. 

 * * * * * *

The door communicating with the principal bedroom opened noiselessly. Elvine entered the sitting-room, accompanied by that delightful rustleof silk which is quite irresistible to male ears. At all times abeautiful woman, just now she was incomparable. 

A joy of life lit every feature, endowing her with an animation ofexpression unrecognizable in her a few short weeks ago. There was amelting lustre in her dark eyes, a gentleness in the smiling corners ofher irresistible mouth. Her cheeks, even, seemed to have gained anadded softness of contour. While the masses of dark hair revealedbeneath her hat shone with the burnish of the raven's wing. 

Her husband had turned on the instant. His cigar was flung aside. Amoment later he was on his feet, and his arms, full of vital impulse, came near to destroying the perfection of her toilet. 

The woman made no protest under the embrace. It told her so manythings she wanted to know. It told her of the love she now so franklydesired. It told her, too, that the efforts on her toilet had not beenill-spent. 

Presently Jeff stood back, holding her at arm's length, while hishungry eyes devoured every feature of the face that had taught him somuch of the real meaning of life. 

"Splendid--just splendid!" he exclaimed. 

"My--gown?"

The smile was enticing. The man laughed out of the buoyancy of hisheart. 

"No--you!" he cried, leaning forward for the embrace she had invited. 

A moment later he stood back again, and Elvine's eyes fell upon themail lying upon the table. 

"Some for me?" she inquired, moving toward it. 

Jeff nodded. Then his smile died out. His gaze had fallen upon hisown open letter. It was lying upon the table near the pile set asidefor his wife, just where he had flung it down at the moment of herentrance. 

"Quite a few, " he said. 

The unsmiling nature of his response had caught Elvine's attention. But she picked up her letters and glanced hastily through them. 

A moment later her eyes came back to his face. 

"Aren't you going to finish yours?" she inquired. 

She was seeking the meaning of that suddenly banished smile. 

It was almost with eagerness that the man caught at the opportunity. 

"It's from Bud, and--I guess it's important. I've only two or threepages more. "

He picked the letter up and sorted the sheets into order. Elvinewatched him. She wanted to ask a dozen questions. But she put none ofthem. 

"He's your partner, " was all she said. 

"Yep, " he nodded, with his eyes on the pages. 

Then Elvine voiced something of her real feelings of the moment. 

"I just hate mail, " she said, with what seemed unnecessary force, asshe began to draw on her gloves. "It always worries me to death. Ithink it scares me. Makes me think of death, or disaster, or--or billsand things. " She laughed. "Maybe it's my pessimistic nature makes mefeel that way. When things are all sunshiny and fine, why, it kind offeels to me there are clouds around. Nasty, mean, hateful shadowslurking, full of----"

"Hell for some one, eh?"

There was a wry twist to the man's lips as he smiled his reply. 

"Guess that's how it is with mine, " he went on. "I'll just read thesepages, and then we'll get going. Eh?"

The woman's watchful eye smiled assent and she continued to draw hergloves on. But her observation of him seemed to gather intensity themoment he became absorbed in the clumsy, unskilled handwriting. 

The last vestige of his smile had gone. His fair brows had knitted ina troubled frown. He seemed to read eagerly but intently, absorbed toan unusual degree. 

She realized the seriousness of that letter. And for some curiousreason alarm supervened. He had spoken of it easily, but his manner ofreading denied his spoken word. 

The silent moments irked her. The rustle of the paper in his hands. Afeeling of foreboding grew, a feeling she knew was foolish, but whichat the same time was irresistible. She found herself speculating as tothe contents of the letter. She strove to review all the possibilitieswhich the great Obar Ranch could offer for disaster. And her minddrifted back over years to a memory that gave her not a shadow ofcomfort. 

The last button of her gloves had been secured when the refolding ofthe letter came. Jeff deliberately, but abstractedly, returned it toits cover. His smile was scarcely a happy one when he finally lookedup. 

"I'm through, sweetheart, " he said. "Shall we----?"

But Elvine's feelings would no longer be denied. 

"Serious as all that?" she demanded. The next moment she would havegiven worlds to have been able to recall the words. 

"I'm afraid it is--in a way. "

Elvine had no option but to continue the subject. She spoke with realfeeling. 

"May I know, dear?" she appealed. "You see, Jeff, things often readworse than they are. Maybe I can help. I've a clearer head than you'dguess. "

The man's cheeks flushed. He had distressed her, frightened her, andthe thought of it annoyed him. He stepped toward her, his handsoutheld. She responded, and her hands were caught in his firm warmclasp. 

"Say, I'm just sorry. I surely am. Guess I've no sort of rightscaring you. Anyway, there's nothing to be scared about. Just a bunchof rustlers----"

"Cattle thieves?"

The woman's whole expression had become transformed. The announcementhad shocked her out of her self-possession. Her smile had fled. Hereyes were wide, and their dark depths were full of a horror that seemedquite uncalled for. Even her cheeks had lost their delicate bloom. Her gaze was held fast by the man's steady regard. It was almost afascinated stare held under some powerful hypnotic influence. 

The man was at a loss. But he promptly claimed the fault to himself. 

"Don't just worry a thing, Evie, " he cried, in real distress. "Itdon't amount to anything. And anyway you don't need to worry. We candeal with it. I best tell you right away. You see, it's their secondplay since I've been from home. Bud's feeling sore. First it was agreat imported bull they shot up while they ran off his cows, and adandy bunch of yearling prize stock. Now--now it's a swell bunch offifty beeves that had been fattening for the buyers. The loss don'thurt. Oh, no, it's not that. "

He paused. Somehow their hands fell apart, and, to the woman, nowrecovering herself, it was as though some shadow had thrust itselfbetween them. She waited, vaguely troubled. Somehow speech for themoment had become impossible to her. She was thinking, thinking farback amidst scenes she had no desire to recall. 

Her husband went on. His manner had lost all the contrition he haddisplayed at alarming her. It was abstracted. He too seemed to bethinking deeply, far away amidst scenes which afforded him only thedeepest pain. 

"I've just thought, " he said. Then he raised one strong hand andpassed it across his broad forehead. He drew a profound sigh. "Say, Iwonder, " he went on reflectively. "It's things Bud's said in his yarn. Suspicions. They brought up all sorts of queer things to my mind. "

The smile he essayed was a hopeless failure. Then, in a moment, alldoubt seemed to pass away and he spoke with quick, keen decision. 

"I'll have to tell you, Evie. You'd sort of made me forget. Thesedays have been the happiest I've ever known, and you've made 'em so. That's how I forgot to tell you of things I guess you ought to know. "

But the woman before him had no desire for his present mood. Shesmilingly shook her head in a decided negative. The last thing shedesired was anything in the nature of a confidence. 

"Is there any need--now?" she asked. Then she smiled. "The stores arewaiting. "

But she had yet to learn the real character of the man whom she hadmarried. She had yet to understand the meaning of the simple sobriquet"Honest Jeff, " which Nan Tristram had long since bestowed upon him. Hewas not the man to be turned from a decision once taken. The decisionon this occasion was arrived at through the depth of the passionatedevotion which controlled his every thought. His love for Elvine madehis purpose only the more irrevocable. 

"I think they had best wait a shade longer, " he said with a shadowysmile. "You see, Evie, I kind of figure there's things that mattermore than just gathering in the fancy goods money'll buy--even for you. Guess I owe you most everything a man can give, the same as you feeltoward me. That's how marriage--marriage like ours--seems to me. Asfar as I can make it there's not going to be a thing on my consciencetoward you. I'd have told you this before, only--only you just droveit right out of my head with the sight of your beautiful face, thesound of your voice, which I just love, and the thought that you--youwere to be my wife. You see, " he went on simply, "I hadn't room in myhead for anything else. "

His manner was so firmly gentle that Elvine's protest melted before it. After all it was very sweet, and--and---- She drew a chair forward andsat down. But her smile hid her real feelings. Confidences, confessions, even from a husband, were repugnant to her. 

Jeff remained standing. He gazed for a few silent moments in thedirection of the open window. The expression of his blue eyessuggested a deep, searching introspection. He might have beensearching for an opening. Again, he might simply have been reviewingscenes which stirred his innermost soul with their horror and pain. 

At last, however, Elvine made a half impatient movement. Instantly theblue eyes turned in her direction, and their expression startled her. They were full of a stony, passionless regard. Not for her, butinspired by the thought behind them. She shivered under their gaze andtheir impression upon her was never afterward obliterated. 

"It's four years past now, " he began, in a voice she scarcelyrecognized. "These rustlers brought it all back to me. Say, Evie, Ihad a twin brother, Ronald. Maybe that won't convey much. I sort ofloved him--better than myself. That's all. He was a bit queer. Imean he just didn't care a heap for running along the main trail ofthings. He was apt to get all mussed up running around byways. Well, when Bud and I fixed up the Obar partnership, I was just crazy to huntRonny down, and hand him a share. Bud's a great feller, and I toldhim. I knew whereabouts the boy had staked out, and, figuring we'dearned a vacation, Bud and I set out to round him up, and hand him apiece which I guessed would keep him with me the rest of his life. "

He paused. He drew a deep breath, and his eyes, hard as marble, hadturned again in the direction of the window. 

Elvine was held even against herself. The expression of his eyes, evenmore than the curious sharpness of his voice, troubled her, alarmed her. 

"I'm not going to yarn more than necessary, " he went on after a moment. "There isn't any need. I just want to give you the deadly facts. As Isaid, I knew his layout, where he was--supposed to be trapping pelts. Supposed. Bud had been raised in the district, so he acted scout. Hemade the location and found him. D'you know how?"

There was a restrained fierceness in the sharp demand. 

The woman shook her head. Any word would have seemed out of place. 

"Hanging by the neck to the bough of a tree. "

"Jeff, don't!" the woman gasped. 

But now there was a smile in the man's eyes. It was a terrible smilewhich drove every vestige of color from his wife's cheeks. 

"I had to tell you, " he cried harshly. "They hanged him for a cattlethief. He was one. Oh, yes. He was one. That's why I had to tellyou. "

The woman's eyes were wide with a sudden terror to which the manremained oblivious. 

"But you said----"

"I said he was pelt hunting. So he'd told me. So I believed. But hewasn't. Say, he was a cattle rustler running a big gang who'd playedhell with the district. He'd been running it for nigh five years. He'd beaten 'em to a mush, all that time, till a reward was offered. Areward of ten thousand dollars. That fixed him. There was some oneknew wanted that reward, and--got it. "

There was a sudden movement in the room. Elvine had abruptly risenfrom her chair. She moved away. She crossed to the window, and stoodwith her back turned, and so had thrust herself into her husband'sfocus. 

"It's--it's a terrible--dreadful story, " came her faltering comment. 

"Terrible? Dreadful?" The man emitted a sound that might have been alaugh. A shudder passed down the woman's back as it fell upon herears. "But it's nothing to the reality, Evie. Oh, I've no sympathyfor his crimes. I hate rustlers like the poison they are. But he wastwin to me, and I loved him. It made no difference to me. You see, hewas part of me. Now--now I only hope the good God'll let me come upwith the man who took the price of his blood. For four years I'vedreamed that way, and I guess it don't matter if it's fifty more. I'llnever change. There's some one, somewhere, who's lower down than theworst cattle rustler ever lived. "

There was no response as the man ceased speaking. Elvine had notstirred from her place at the window. The moments passed. Swift, poignant moments, in which two people were enduring an agony ofrecollection. 

The man's relentless expression never changed. His eyes were gazingstraight ahead. And though his vision was obstructed by the perfectcontours of his wife's figure, he was gazing through her, and beyondher, upon a scene which had for its central interest the suspendedfigure of a man with his head lolling forward and sideways, and hisdead eyes bulging from their sockets. 

Elvine never stirred. Her gaze was upon the crowded thoroughfarebeyond. But like her husband, she was gazing through and beyond. Shewas watching the tongues of flame as they licked up the resinous trunksand foliage of a great pine bluff. 

At length it was the woman's voice broke the silence. 

"Where--where did this all happen?"

The question was the verbal expression of a despairing hope. Thevoice, however, was steady. 

"In the Cathills. "

"The Lightfoot gang?"

"Yes. That's what he called it. You knew of them?"

There was a slight movement of the woman's shoulders. It was thefaintest possible shrug. 

"Everybody in Calthorpe heard of them. "

Then she turned and faced him. The mask with which she confronted himwas perfect. Her dark beauty was unimpaired by a sign of emotion. Even her cheeks had returned to their customary delicate bloom. Hereyes shone with a world of sympathy as she came toward him. 

"Jeff, don't think of it all--now, dear. It's too, too dreadful. Guess I was wrong to let you tell me. I certainly was. It's past. It's done with. Nothing can ever bring him back to you. To dwell uponit, to think and feel that way, will only serve to embitter your life. Say, try, Jeff. I'll help you, dear. I will. Sure. Sure. Won't youtry, for--my sake?"

The man took her hands in his. He drew her toward him. The strainedexpression of his eyes melted before her perfect beauty. 

"I'll try, Evie, " he said, without conviction. Then he kissed her. 

After a while she looked up. 

"And the stores, Jeff?"

The man smiled down in response. 

"Sure--the stores. "

CHAPTER XV

THE HOME-COMING

Six weeks of all she had ever hoped for, dreamed of, in the lean yearsof heart starvation. The complete devotion of a strong man, a man whoheld a place in the world she knew. Every luxury wealth could purchaseat her disposal, even to satiation. Her every whim ministered to, andeven anticipated. This was something of the ripe fruit literallyheaped into Elvine's lap. She had longed for it, schemed for it, andProvidence had permitted all her efforts complete success. 

Now, with those six weeks behind her, she gazed upon the balance-sheet. She looked for the balance of happiness. To her horror it was blottedout, smudged out of all recognition. Oh, yes, the figures had beenentered, but now they were completely obscured. 

It was the last stage of her journey to her new home. It was a journeybeing made in the saddle. Their baggage, a large number of trunksloaded with the precious gleanings from the great stores during thehoneymoon, had been sent on ahead by wagon. There was nothing, so faras could be seen, to rob the home-coming of its proper sense ofdelight. Yet delight was more than far off. Elvine was a prey to ahopelessness which nothing seemed able to relieve. 

Summer was not yet over, although the signs of the coming fall were byno means lacking. The hard trail, like some carefully set outterra-cotta ribbon upon a field of tawny green, took them through aregion of busy harvesting. The tractors and threshers were busilyengaged in many directions. Great stacks of straw testified to theample harvest in progress. Fall ploughing had already begun, andhigh-wheeled wagons bore their burden of produce toward the distantelevators. Then, too, human freight passed them, happy, smilingfreight of old and young, whose sun-scorched faces reflected somethingof the joy of life and general prosperity prevailing. 

A radiant sun looked down upon the scenes through which they passed. It was the wonderful ripening God almost worshipped of these people wholived by the fruits of the earth. Jeffrey Masters understood it all, and reveled in the pleasant senses it stirred. For he, too, lived bythe fruits of the earth, although his harvest was garnered in the fleshof creature kind. 

Elvine looked on with eyes that beheld but saw nothing of that whichinspired her husband. Remembrance claimed her. Too well sheremembered. And gladly would she have shut out such sights altogether, for more and more surely they crushed her already depressed spirits toa depth from which it seemed impossible to raise them. 

Nor was her beautiful face without some reflection of this. Her smilewas ready for the man at her side. She laughed and talked in a mannerso care-free that he could never have suspected. But in repose, whenno eyes were upon her, a lurking, hunted dread peered furtively out ofher dark eyes, and the fine-drawn lines gathered about her shapelylips, and seriously marred the serenity of their youthful contours. 

She had one purpose now, one only. It was to ward off the blow whichshe knew might fall at any moment when she reached her new home. Thethreat of it was with her always. It drove her to panic in the dark ofnight. It left her watchful and fearful in the light of day. At alltimes the memory of her husband's words dinned through her brain likethe haunt of some sickening melody. 

"Now I only hope the good God'll let me come up with the man who tookthe price of his blood. "

It had been spoken coldly. It had been spoken with an intensity ofbitterness that left an impression as hard as flint. The tone had sether shuddering. Then the look in those cold blue eyes when at last shehad turned confronting them. No, there had been no mercy in them. Nomercy, she told herself, for--anybody. 

At that moment she had known that the earth could hold no future peacefor her. She felt that Fate had passed sentence on her, and she waspowerless to stay its execution. Her husband demanded vengeance uponthe man who had accepted the price of his brother's blood. 

For the moment she had been stunned. Then had risen up in her adesperate courage. She would fight. She would fight for herself, shewould fight for the love which all unbidden, all undesired, had come toher. Then, in the end, if defeat should overtake her, she would, yes, she could, submit to the punishment his hand should mete out to her. 

Strangely, from that moment her love for this man seemed to increase athousandfold. He grew in her heart a towering colossus of worship. The primitive in her bowed down before his image ready to yield to hislightest word, while, by every art, she was ready to cajole and fosterhis love. 

It was all she knew, understood. It was the woman in her who possessedno other weapons of defense. She loved him, she desired him, thennothing was too small to cling to with the wild hope of the drowning. When the day came that he should turn and rend her soul she couldsubmit. But until that day she would cling to every straw that offered. 

While the scenes through which they were passing preoccupied the man, the silence of the wide plains left Elvine to her fears. The greatbreadth of the world about her added to her hopelessness. And after asilence which had become unduly protracted, she took refuge in talk forwhich she had no real desire. 

"It's beautiful, but--oppressive, " she said, and the words were theinspiration of genuine thought. 

But the man was like one who has spent a world of love and devotionupon carving a beautiful setting and is now about to complete his workby securing in place the crowning jewel. He had no room for anyfeeling of oppression. He shook his head. 

"Say, Evie, " he cried, "I just can't allow you the word 'oppressive. 'I just can't. Look--look right out there toward the hills we'remaking. Take the colors as they heap up to the distance. Every shade, I guess, from green to purple. It makes me feel good. It gives meroom to stretch myself. It sort o' sweeps away a whole heap of fustycity smells, and gives us something a deal more worth breathing. It'sa man's place. And it's full of man's work. Guess Providence got busyan' set it all out for us. Providence guessed we'd have to use it. But Providence didn't just guess how far crazy human nature really was. She didn't foresee we'd gather around in the musty dump-holes we callcities. She didn't figure on our tastes for the flesh-pots, and theindulgence of the senses she'd handed us. But then Providence knowsher power to fix us right when she feels that way. " Then he spread outhis arms with an inexpressible suggestion of longing. "Say, I'mcrazy--plumb crazy to get the first peek at that dandy home I've hadfixed for you. "

The woman's eyes sought her husband's with a smile that was a caress. 

"You're good to me, Jeff, " she said. Then she added: "So good. " Hersmile deepened. "You'd hand me the world with--with a fence around it, if I asked. Why? Why are you like that?"

It was the love in her seeking reassurance. Nor was she disappointed. 

"Why?" The man laughed. And the sound of it was good to hear. It wasdeep, and seemed to come from the depths of his soul. His blue eyesshone with a world of devotion. "Guess I love you--just that, " hesaid. Then he pointed at the distant hills. "I can't tell you all Ifeel, Elvie, " he said, "but get those hills. See them. There, thatpeak, sitting right up over its fellows, with a cap of snow on it Idon't guess the sun could ever melt. That's thousands of feet up. I'dsay man's foot was never set there, nor bird's, nor animal's either. Well, if that peak was a throne it 'ud give you pleasure to occupy, why, I guess I'd just go the limit to have you sit there. "

Elvine was gazing at the mountain crest, but she was not thinking ofit. She was thinking of the love which the extravagant wordsexpressed, and she was wondering at the bigness of it. She was caughtin its power, and it thrilled her with an even greater appreciation ofher danger. What would be the result upon such a nature as this man'swhen--he knew?

"I believe you would, " she said, her eyes coming back to the strong, flushed face. Then she added: "Now. "

"Now?"

There was a quick lifting in the man's fair brows. There wasincredulity in his tone. To him it seemed impossible, the implieddoubt in her final word. 

"I don't change easy, Elvie, " he protested. "I kind of get thingshard. It's my way, and it's no doing of mine. Life's a full-sizedproposition, and I don't guess we can see far through it. But I can'timagine a thing that could come before you in my thoughts. "

"I'd like to think that. I'd like to feel that, " Elvine returned. Shewas smiling up into his eyes. "You see, Jeff, I was kind of thinking. We're young now. We've been together just six weeks. Maybe you'll getused to me later. Men do get used to women till they become sort ofpart of the furniture. Oh, I guess their love goes right on, but--butthey wouldn't feel like starting in to fence in the North Pole, or--orhitch up Niagara to their wife's buggy just because she fancied thatway. Say, Jeff, when I lose your love I just lose everything in theworld. You--you won't ever let me lose it, will you?"

Jeff shook his head, and smiled in the confidence of feelings. 

"Don't ever talk that way. Don't ever think like that, " he urged her. Then, as their horses ambled side by side up the last gentle inclinebefore they dropped down to the great plain of the Rainbow Hill Valley, which was the setting of the Obar Ranch, he drew nearer and reached outone arm and gently encircled her waist. "Guess you're feeling like mejust now, Evie. Do you know what I mean? We're getting home. Home--yours and mine. Well, say, that home is in my mind now, and it'sfull to the brim of thoughts of you. You're in it--everywhere. You'repart of it. You're just part of me. I can't see any future withoutyou. It don't seem to me there could be any. I don't doubt. I guessthe thought of it don't scare me a thing. Maybe with you it'sdifferent. Maybe you're scared such happiness can't last. But I tellyou it can--it will. You're with me now and always, and I can't see ashadow that could come between us. "

"None? No, none, none!"

The woman forced conviction into her final denial, and, for a moment, she permitted herself to yield to the reassuring embrace. Then shestarted up and released herself. 

"Oh, Jeff!" she cried. "I just pray all the time that nothing shallever rob me of your love. Night and day I pray that way. If I were tolose you, I--I think nothing else would much matter. "

The man smiled with supreme confidence. They had reached the top ofthe hill, and he set his horse into a canter. 

"You're just going to live right on--for me, sweetheart, " he cried. "Be yourself. Just yourself. The frank, honest woman I know and love. If ever the shadows you fear come to worry us, they'll have to be ofyour own creating. We have nothing to fear from the future, nothing atall. We'll just drive right on down the clear trail of life. It'sonly in the byways there's any ugly dumps. Look!" He suddenly flungout one arm, pointing ahead where the great Obar plains rolled awaytoward the hills below them. "That's the ranch. There. That onethere is Bud's homestead, and the other to the right's your--our home. Say, it's good to see--mighty good!"

 * * * * * *

Nan gazed upon the result of her labors and decided that it was good. Bud was observing her in his unobtrusive way. They were together inthe new parlor of the home which Jeff had had reconstructed under Nan'smost careful supervision. 

The girl had put forth her greatest effort, greater even than sheherself realized, for it had been inspired by a desire that Jeff andhis wife should never realize the pain and bitter disappointment shehad endured. 

Now, as she surveyed each detail in her final tour of inspection, sheconvinced herself that nothing, nothing she could think of had beenforgotten. Even the city-bred Elvine could find no fault with anydetail of it. 

She and Bud were standing side by side rather like two children gazingin awed wonder at some undreamed of splendor suddenly discovered in afamiliar playground, every square foot of which they had believedthemselves familiar with. 

"I--don't think I've forgotten a thing, " Nan said, in a tone subdued byher weight of responsibility. 

"Not a thing, " agreed Bud, with a perfect disregard for anyconsequences his statement might have. 

He was utterly unchanged. He had made no preparation to receive thebride and bridegroom in their home. He was just the cattleman nothingcould change him from. His gray flannel shirt was agape over hissunburned chest. His leather chapps creaked as he moved, his viciousspurs clanked. Then, too, the curling iron-gray hair of his bared headwas innocent of all extra combing. With Nan it was different. She hadstriven to rid herself of every sign of the prairie to which shebelonged. She was dressed with consummate care. Every jealous feelingof the woman in her had cried out for her rights, and those rights werethat her successful rival should be unable to sneer at or pity her. 

The result was a delightful picture that filled Bud's heart withadmiration. And for perhaps the thousandth time he silentlyanathematized the blind folly of the man who had wilfully cast his eyesin another direction. 

Nan seated herself in one of the luxuriously inviting armchairs, whileBud insinuated his huge form on to the polished surface of a largecentral table. 

"You know, Daddy, I sort of feel like a feller who's guessed the rightanswer to a question he hadn't a notion of. Maybe you won't get justhow I mean. " The smile in her pretty eyes changed to a deepseriousness. "You know when I was a little teeny girl all mud andoverall, that never could keep me within measurable distance of beingclean, you used to talk to me just as if you were speaking yourthoughts aloud. Guess it was about the time poor Momma died, or maybesoon after. I kind of remember you were squatting Indian fashion onthe veranda of our shack, I'd been busy in the hopes of drowning myselfin a half dry mud hole, and had mostly succeeded in absorbing more ofthe dirt than seemed good for a single meal. Guess I must have startedto cry, and you'd reached out and grabbed me, and fetched me up on yourlap, and were handing me a few words you reckoned to cheer me up with. Do you remember them, my Daddy? I don't guess you do. I didn't till awhile later, and then I didn't figure out their meaning till I went toschool. You said, 'Tears is only for kiddies an' grown women. Kiddiesmostly cry because they don't understand, an' grown women because theydo. Anyway, neither of 'em need to cry, if they only get busy an'think a while. Ther' ain't a thing in this life calls for a tear froma living soul, not even a stomachful of moist mud, 'cos, you see, ther's Someone who fixes everything the way it should go, an' it's theright way. So we'll jest give you a dose of physic to help boost theshow along. '" She glanced round her with smiling eyes at thetastefully arrayed furnishings of the parlor. "This has been the doseof physic I gave myself, and--and I feel better for it. I had the mud, and, why, the tears came just as they did before. Maybe if I'd beenable to think right I wouldn't have shed them. But I just couldn'tthink right then. But I've thought since, and the physic's helped me. Do--do you think he'll like it all?"

The contemplative gaze of her father was full of gentle amusement. 

"Sure he will--if he ain't changed any. "

Nan shook her head. 

"Jeff couldn't change. Even marriage couldn't change Jeff. You see, Jeff's got notions of life which are just part of him. Maybe he'llsoften some in ways and things, but his notions'll remain, and they'llstand right out in all he does. "

But Bud remained without conviction. 

"A good woman can set a big man hunting a halo, " he said. "An' I allowhe's li'ble to find it, if she don't weaken in her play. But a badwoman--why, I guess a bad woman can send him down quicker than mostthings in life, once she tucks herself into a corner of his life depot. "

"But Jeff would never fall in love with a bad woman. " Nan protestedswiftly, an odd little pucker of anxiety gathering between her brows. "I--I'm sure his wife's a good woman. "

"An' I ain't any sort o' reason to think diff'rent. "

"But you do think--that way. "

Nan's understanding of her father was wide. It could scarcely havebeen otherwise, since he had been her sole companion for so many years. 

But Bud was to be drawn no further. 

"Ther' ain't no accounting fer how folks think when they ain't out on ajoy trip, " he grumbled, as he moved across to the open window, andstood gazing out over the trail from the northeast. Then all furtherdiscussion was abandoned in a small wave of excitement. He waspointing down the trail. 

"Say, they're coming right along now. An'----"

But Nan was at his side. Something of the color had faded out of hercheeks, and she clung to her father's arm as she gazed along the narrowwinding road. Her breath was coming rapidly. For all her courage, nowthat the moment of great trial had arrived, she felt very weak, veryhelpless. 

Bud understood. He released his arm from her nervous clasp, and placedit gently about her shoulders. "It's Jeff setting the gait, " he said. "I'd say he's crazy to get home. " Then he added as though to himself:"Guess I'd as lief seen her on the lead. "

But Nan gave no heed to his words. The soul of the girl was in hereyes, which were full of a deep terror and yearning. She had schooledherself for this meeting How she had schooled herself! And now itseemed beyond her powers to live up to that schooling. 

Never for a moment did she withdraw her gaze. It was held fascinated, perhaps against her will. They came on, riding at an almost racinggallop, and finally drew up with their horses fighting against therestraining bits. 

Bud and Nan were on the veranda. Bud's attitude was one of almost shyreserve. Nan was smiling a welcome such as a moment before would haveseemed quite impossible. But her schooling had finally triumphed inthe crisis, and her loyalty to her generous love had vanquished everybaser feeling. It was her hands which clasped those of the city womanbefore she sprang lightly from the saddle. It was her steady voicespoke the first words of welcome. 

"Say, you sure must be tired with your journey, " she said. "Come rightin to--your new home. "

Bud had averted his eyes the moment she began to speak. He could notwitness that greeting. His courage was unequal to it. Instead hegreeted Jeff in his own fashion, as though nothing unusual had occurred. 

"Nan's got everything through for you same as you asked. After you'veeaten, why, I guess we'll need to make some talk. Things have beenmoving, boy. Guess we'll need to get busy. "

Nan had taken Elvine into the house, and one of the barn-hands waswaiting to take the horses. Jeff leaped from the saddle. Once in thecompany of his partner, with all the atmosphere of the world to whichhe belonged about him, all the excitement of his home-coming seemed todrop from him. He even seemed to have forgotten that this was thefinal great event of his new life--the bringing of his bride to thehome he had prepared for her. But Nan's estimate of him was right. Jeff's was a nature that could not be changed, even by his marriage. His love, his marriage, Elvine; these things were, in reality, merelyepisodes. Delightful episodes. Before all things his work claimed him. 

"You mean the--rustlers?"

The two men were facing each other on the wide veranda. The trailingwild cucumber vines tempered the blaze of sunlight and left theatmosphere of the veranda cool. Jeff mopped the beads of perspirationfrom his forehead under his wide hat, which had been thrust back on hishead. 

"That's so. " Bud's eyes were following the horses as they moved awayin the wake of the barn-hand. 

"It's pretty bad?"

"An' gettin' worse. "

Bud's eyes came back to his partner's face. They gazed steadily intoit. 

"Can't you tell me--now? Evie's in there with Nan, " he addedsignificantly. 

Bud shook his head. 

"It's a big yarn, an' needs time. But----" He paused, searching theother's face. 

"Go right on. "

Jeff read through the pause. He waited, his lips firmly set. 

Bud cleared his throat. 

"I've got to say these things later if I don't say 'em now, Jeff, boy. What I need to tell 'll make you sore, an' I don't guess it's the bestsort o' welcome making you sore at your home-comin'. It's the worst ofthe yarn anyway, an' I kind o' feel it's best spitting out the worstright away. We're up against a gang, a slick gang, organized right, same as----"

He hesitated. But the younger man seemed to have no similar scruples. 

"The gang my brother ran. "

Bud nodded. 

"Some of 'em got clear away--that time. "

"And you figure after giving things time to get forgotten they'vegathered up a crowd of toughs and started in on this district?"

"It seems that way. "

"How?"

"System, " Bud declared sharply. "They're takin' a steady toll of us, an' other folks in the district. We trailed 'em to the hills, an'--lost 'em. Say, if we don't handle 'em it means----"

"Something like ruin for the--Obar. "

Jeff's manner was shorn of any equivocation. He spoke with almostruthless force, but the coldness of tone was incomparable with thesteely light in his blue eyes. 

After a moment's silence he turned away. He stood looking back overthe trail he had just left, and Bud regarded his keen profile, waiting. He felt there was nothing more for him to say at the moment. 

At last the other turned in his quick, decided fashion as the sound ofthe women's voices reached them from within the parlor. 

"Will you stop and eat with us?" he asked bluntly. 

Bud shook his head. 

"Not now, Jeff, boy. This is your home-coming. "

"Yes. Well, I'll get around your place to-morrow morning, Bud. We canmake big talk then. "

CHAPTER XVI

THE RANCHMAN

The cool night breeze died out under the increasing heat of the earlysun. Away to the west gossamer melted upon the hillsides. Themountain tops stood out under their eternal snows, above the lowercloud belts. The summer dews on thirsty foliage dried up before theirmission was completed. But the wide prairie world stood up refreshedto withstand the day's heat yet to come. 

Elvine Masters was on the veranda of her new home gazing after thereceding figure of her husband, who had just left her to discuss withhis partner those vital things which they had touched upon at themoment of his arrival yesterday. 

Everywhere about her the busy life of the ranch was stirring. Insidethe house the maids were at work garnishing the home which Nan hadalready left spotless. The corrals, which stood out from the shelterof a wood bluff, were claiming attention from several cow-hands. Sounds reached her from the region of the bunkhouse, away to the right. Then at the barns, and other ranch buildings, the voices of men impliedthe work that was going forward in their region. Away in the distanceisolated horsemen were moving about in the apparently aimless fashionof all fence riders, while, dotted about, small bands of cattleproceeded leisurely with the endless task of endeavoring to satisfy thecraving of insatiable appetites. 

The woman's farewell smile had left her eyes cold as she surveyed thescene. There was no sign of the expressed delight with which she hadfollowed Nan at her first inspection of her new home. The recollectionof it had even left her. Only a certain sense of the irony of it alloccupied her. That, and a painful wonder as to when the dread underwhich she labored would materialize into the shattering of every hopewithin her heart. 

Presently a "hand" appeared leading a saddle horse. He was ayoungster, a "barn-hand" who only worked around cattle in times ofpressure. But he possessed all the air of a cowpuncher, which heultimately purposed to become. Elvine watched his leisurely approach, and remembered the days when she would have saddled her own pony. 

The boy displayed no sign of deference. He stood before her chewing astraw with all the unconcern of his kind, his arm linked through thereins, and his hands thrust into the tops of his trousers. He wasprobably not more than thirteen years of age, but he possessed all theindependence bred in the calling of the cattle world. 

Elvine broke in upon his meditative curiosity as he surveyed the newmistress of the ranch. 

"What's your name, boy?" she demanded, in a tone of authority. 

But the youngster was not to be startled out of his leisurely regard. An amiable smile upon his unclean face was the preliminary result ofthe question. 

"Pete, ma'am, " he replied after a moment. "An' around this bum lay-outI mostly reckon to have to do the stunts other folks don't notion. "

"Chore boy?"

"Wal, mebbe that's how I figger on the pay roll. I allow I ain't alluscalled that way. "

The smile had left his eyes. He was talking with the frank candor ofone unused to being taken notice of. There was a deep curiosity in thelook with which he surveyed her. He had already been told that theboss's wife was a "swell piece, " and his youthful mind was eager toverify the opinion. 

"How do they call you then?" Elvine took the reins and threw them backover the horse's head, and examined the cinching of the saddle with thetouch of experience. 

"Mostly a 'mule-headed bussock, ' ma'am. Sometimes I allow they changeit to 'slap-sided hoboe, ' or somethin' more fancy. But that's jest theignorant bums that ain't got no more learnin' than'll let 'em losetheir cents reg'lar at 'draw. ' Ther's others who don't jest uselangwidge--only their feet. Then ther's the foreman, Lal Hobhouse. Mebbe you ain't acquainted yet--you bein' new around these parts. He'sa fine bully feller till he gits mad. Then he's mean, ma'am. Guesshe's most as mean as a skunk. He needs watching if you want to get ona racket. I don't guess he ever laffed in his life. Not even at acirkis. Yep. He's a holy terror when he's mad. He cowhided met'other day so I ain't sat right in a week. If he was to start in tofix you that way, why----"

"I don't guess he'll cowhide me, " said Elvine quickly, as she swungherself into the saddle. "I'm not likely go on a racket. " Then sheleaned forward over the horn of the saddle, and smiled down into theunclean face gawking up at her. "How'd you fancy looking after myhorses and saddle and things? I mean just look after them for me, andnothing else?"

The boy's eyes lit. 

"Bully!" he cried eagerly. "That way I wouldn't have to wash lousyclothes for the bunkhouse. Would I? Then they wouldn't be able tofire rocks at me when I sassed 'em. Bully!"

"I'll speak to Lal Hobhouse about it. "

The hope died out of the boy's eyes. 

"You won't tell him wot I said, ma'am?" he pleaded. "You see, I wasjest settin' you wise, you bein' new around here. It ain't friendlynot to put folks wise, is it? He's a bully feller sure, ma'am, an' Iain't got a word agin him. I hain't reely. I wouldn't 'a' sed a wordif I'd tho't----"

"Don't you worry, boy, " Elvine cried, as she turned her horse about. "I wouldn't give you away. I wouldn't give anybody away--now. Yousee, you never know how things of that sort can come back on you. "

The obvious relief in the boy's dirty face was more than sufficient tobring back the smile to Elvine's eyes, which, for the moment, hadbecome almost painfully serious. But as she rode away leaving the boygawking after her she quickly returned to the mood which had only beenbroken by the interlude. 

It was an interlude not easily forgotten, however. It had brought hometo her a fresh revelation. And it had come in the boy's final appealnot to give him away. A fierce sense of shame surged through herheart. It communicated itself to her eyes, and displayed itselffurther in the deep flush on her beautiful cheeks. Yet its reason musthave remained obscure to any observer. 

She rode on urging her pony to a gait which set him reaching at hisbit. She sat her saddle in a fashion which belonged solely to theprairie. The long stirrups and straight limb. The lightness, and thatindescribable something which suggests the single personality of horseand rider. 

She had no intention of returning to the ranch house until the noondaymeal, and meanwhile it was her purpose to explore something of the vastdomain which her husband controlled. 

It was curious that her purpose should lead her thus. For somehow allsense of delight in these possessions had passed from her. At one timethe thought of his thousands upon thousands of acres had filled herwith a world of desire, and pride that she was to share in them. Butnot now. With every furlong she covered her mood depressed, and hersense of dread increased. She felt as though she were surveying from agreat distance the details of the prize she had coveted, but thepossession of which was denied her. This--this was the wealth herhusband had bestowed upon her, she told herself bitterly, and somegreater power, some fatalistic power, purposed to snatch it from herbefore it reached her hands. 

She rode straight for the rising land of the foothills. It almostseemed as though she were drawn thither by some magnetic influence. She had formed no definite decision to travel that way. Perhaps it wasthe result of a subconscious realization of the monotony of the rollingtawny grass-land on the flat. The distant view of grazing cattlefailed to break it. The occasional station shack and corral. Thehills rose up in sharp contrast and great variety. There were thewoodland bluffs. There were little trickling streams. There was thatsense of the wild beyond. Perhaps it was all this. Or perhaps it wasthe call of a memory, which drew her beyond her power of resistance. 

She had long since left all beaten trails, and her way took her overthe wiry growth of seeding grass. She had arrived at the bank of anarrow reed-grown creek, which meandered placidly in the deeps of atrough between two waves of grass-land. It had been her intention tocross it, but the marshy nature of its bed deterred her. So she rodeon until the rising ground abruptly mounted and merged into the twogreat hills which formed the portals through which the stream had foundan outlet from its mountain prison to the freedom of the plains beyond. 

For a moment she paused at the edge of a woodland bluff which mountedthe slope to her right, and crowned the hillock with a thatch of darkgreen pine foliage. She gazed up with questioning eyes. And thefamiliarity of the tattered foliage left her without enthusiasm for itsbeauty. Then she gazed ahead along the course of the stream. And itwas obvious that she was in some doubt as to whether she should stillproceed. 

After a moment of deep consideration she lifted her reins and her horsemoved forward. Then, suddenly, he was still again, held with atightened rein. The soft but rapid plod of galloping hoofs came out ofthe distance. It was coming toward her from the hills, and anunaccountable but overwhelming desire to beat a hasty retreat tookpossession of her. 

But the action never matured. She was still facing the hills when ahorseman emerged from a narrow pathway which split up convergingbluffs. He was riding at a great pace, and was heading straight forthe bank of the river where she had paused. 

Elvine remained where she was. She made no effort either to proceed orretreat. Somehow curiosity had caught her up and left her with noother emotion. She regarded the stranger with searching eyes. At themoment his features were too indistinct to obtain an impression. Buthis general appearance left nothing to question. He was a cow-handwithout a doubt. His open shirt and loose waistcoat, his chapps, andthe plaited rawhide rope which hung from the horn of his saddle. Thesewere sufficient evidence. But for the rest, the wide flapping brim ofhis hat left her no estimate of the face beneath it. 

He came on. He even swerved his horse on one side as though to passher without pausing. Elvine's pony stirred restlessly in a desire tojoin the stranger. Then, in a flash, the whole position was changed. The man reined up his horse with a heavy "yank" which almost flung iton its haunches, and a pair of fierce black eyes were staring into thewoman's face with a light of startled recognition shining in theirdepths. 

"You!" he cried, without any other form of greeting. And into the wordhe flung a world of harsh meaning. 

Elvine's reply was a blank stare, which had in it not a fraction of therecognition he displayed. Not for an instant did her regard waver. Itwas full of a haughty displeasure at the nature of the greeting. Nordid she deign reply. 

The man sat for a moment as though incredulous. Then he thrust his hatback from his head, displaying the brutal ugliness of his face. Elvineobserved the coarse moustache, the lean cheeks, the low forehead andvicious eyes. The lips were hidden behind their curtain of hair. 

"Say, kind o' fergotten--ain't yer?" he demanded. Then the woman'sperfectly fitting riding suit seemed to attract his attention. "Gee, "he exclaimed, "wher' you get that dandy rig?" But even as he spoke achange in his expression came when he recognized the horse Elvine wasriding. Suddenly he raised one hand and smoothed the tangle ofmoustache with a downward gesture. It was a gesture implying completelack of comprehension. "Well, I'm darned!"

"You'll be more than that if you don't pass on to your work, whateverthat may be. "

The coldness of the woman's tone matched the light in her dark eyes. Every ounce of her courage had been summoned to meet the situation. 

But the man displayed not the slightest regard for the threat. Theincredulity of his expression changed. And the change was subtle. Itwas perfectly apparent, however, to the woman. And she nerved herselffor what was to come. An evil smile grew in the piercing black eyes, as the man regarded the beauty which, with him, was a long stored upmemory. 

"Say, when d'you quit Orrville way?" he cried derisively. "Maybe youhadn't a heap o' use for it when your man, Bob, got shot up. Maybe youdidn't need to stop around after you got your hands on the dollars Iguess he left lying around. Say, it beats hell meetin' you this way. "

But Elvine was no longer laboring under the shock of the encounter. She had no longer any thought of the remoteness of the spot, or theobviously brutish man with whom she was confronted. She set aboutdealing with the situation with a desperate courage. "I don't know ifyou're mad, or only--drunk, " she said, with icy sharpness. "But you'reon my husband's land, and I suppose you work for him. What's yourname? I need to know it so I can tell him of your insolence. JeffreyMasters is not the man to allow his wife to be insulted with impunityby one of his cattlemen. It will be my business to see to it that heis told--everything. You were riding that way. " She pointed the wayshe had come. "I s'pose toward the ranch house. Let me pass!"

She moved her horse as though to proceed. There was no sign of fear inher. No haste. At that moment her dignity was superb. Every word shehad spoken had been calculated, and the sting she had conveyed with herinformation had not been overdone. She looked for its effect, whichcame with a dramatic change in the man's whole demeanor. His evil facelost its smile, and, in a moment, he had bared his bristling head. Buteven as Elvine beheld these things she understood the curiousexpression which he seemed powerless to banish from his ferretty eyes. 

"You're Mrs. Masters, ma'am?" the fellow cried. "Say, ma'am, I'm justkind o' knocked all of a mush. I hadn't a notion. I truly hadn't. Guess I took you for a leddy I kind o' remember up Orrville way. An'the likeness is jest that o' two beans. I'm beat, ma'am, beat sore. Iwouldn't have offered you insult for a farm. I'm sorry. I'd heerd theboss's wife was around, but I didn't figger I----" Then he replacedhis hat, and made as though to pass on. But he remained where he was. "Y'see, I was ridin' in about last night. We lost another bunch. On'yten cows and their calves, but I had to make a report. "

"Another raid?"

In a moment the woman caught him up. And her attitude had taken on acalculated change. 

The man observed her interest, and took prompt advantage of it. 

"Yep. An' things are lookin' pretty bad. This gang's jest workin'how, an' when, an' wher' they fancy. If the boss 'ud on'y listen to mehe'd leave no stock around the outstations. It's devilish luck, ma'am, that's what it is--devilish. "

Elvine remained lost in thought, and the man's narrow eyes never leftthe profile she presented to him. When she turned to him again, however, his whole attitude was one of bland humility. 

"You can ride back to your station, " she declared, with perfectauthority. "I'll convey your report. What's your name? You didn'tgive it me. "

"Sikkem. Sikkem Bruce. I'm out at Spruce Crossing, back ther' in thehills. It's jest a piece. Mebbe three miles, wher' this stream makesa joining with the Gophir Creek. Say----"

"Well?" Elvine inquired as he paused. 

"You ain't makin' no complaint to the boss, ma'am? It was jest a darnfool mistake of mine. It surely was. I ken see it was. I can'tfigger how I mistook you fer the lady I was thinkin' of. Y'see, shewas no account anyway. She was jest one o' them vampire sorts who'dsell her soul fer a price, yep, and sell any man's life that way, too. Y'see, that's how I come to know her. She handed over a bunch o' guys, scallawags, sure, who didn't need nothin' better, fer the price o' tenthousand dollars. She corralled the information, an' drove herweak-livered man to do the lousy work. I tell you, ma'am, a woman whogits that low is pretty mean. You was sure right to figger on aninsult when I guessed you was that 'piece. ' But I didn't mean it thatway, I sure didn't. "

The marble coldness of Elvine's face as she listened to the man's wordsgave no indication of any feeling behind it. At the end, however, sheforced a smile to her lips. 

"You can forget it, " she said. Then she added deliberately: "I shallnot inform my husband. "

"Thank you, ma'am. Then I guess I'll get right on back--if you'llcarry in the report. Y'see, we're huntin' the trail. That-a-way I'llbe able to join up with the boys. "

"Yes. "

The man hesitated as though waiting for her to depart first, but as shemade no movement, and offered no further word, he was forced to theinitiative. With an astonishing deference, which, perhaps, was eventoo elaborate, he wheeled his horse about and rode off. 

Elvine watched him until he was swallowed up by the narrow pathwaybetween the bluffs, then she turned back and rode slowly homeward. 

But the face which was now turned down the river was no longer the facewhich had confronted Sikkem Bruce. It was ghastly. It was the face ofa soul-tortured woman. 

"She was jest one of them vampire sorts who'd sell her soul fer aprice, yes, an' sell any man's life that way, too. "

The words, even the tones of the man's voice dinned in her brain, andshe knew that the legions of Fate had appeared upon a fresh horizon. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE CALL TO ORRVILLE

The windows were wide open. Voices from within the parlor reached Nan. She was waiting on the veranda. Waiting for the long council ofmen-folk to reach its conclusion. She had elected to remain outside. She knew that the future well-being of the Obar Ranch was beingconsidered by men whose sole regard that well-being was. And somehowthe woman in her demanded that in all the vital affairs of life it wasthe will of the men-folk which should rule. 

But her self-denial was strained to breaking as the interminableminutes grew, and, at last, she abandoned her principles to her woman'scuriosity, and slipped into the room. She knew well enough that noneof those present would resent her intrusion. And, anyway, it was hardto stand by when her whole interest was absorbed in the decisions to bearrived at. 

She passed round the room and took up a position on the arm of herfather's chair. No one spoke to her. Scarcely an eye turned in herdirection. And something of the impressiveness of it all caught thegirl's imagination. 

There was the dear familiar room with its simple furnishing, and itspoignant associations. It was part of her life. It was certainly partof her father's and Jeff's. Then there was the warm sunlight pouringin through the open windows. It lit the tanned, strong faces of themen, and searched the weak spots in their toil-worn equipment. Therewas not a weak face among them. And Nan felt comfort in the thoughtthat theirs was the decision. 

The face of Jay Pendick, their own headman, with its small, alert darkeyes reflected the intentness of his mind. His capacity had been triedover and over again in his long years of service. Then Lal Hobhouse, the best-hated man on the countryside for his ruthless genius inobtaining work from those under him, and the driving force of Jeff'sside of the partnership. Her father, wise and silent, except for hisheavy breathing. And lastly Jeff, full of a hard determination to beatthe game in which he was engaged. 

So keen was the interest of the gathering that Bud alone was smoking. But then Bud regarded tobacco as a necessary adjunct to soundness ofjudgment. 

He slipped an arm about Nan's waist as she took up her position at hisside. 

Jeff was seated at the centre table, a position strongly reminiscent tothe girl of a smaller gathering some four years back, when he hadoccupied the position of leadership in the enterprise which had hadsuch successful results for them all. Jay was poised upon the edge ofa small chair which suggested immediate peril under his forceful andscarcely elegant methods when discussing the doings of rustlers, andimparting his opinion upon all and sundry of their class. Laldisdained all parlor attitude. He was squatting against the edge ofthe table without the least consideration for its somewhat triflingpowers of endurance. But Jeff was talking, and Nan's whole attentionwas swiftly caught and held by the man whose words and actions were atall times irresistible to her. 

He was talking slowly and clearly with that shadow of a drawl which washis way when his decision was arrived at. 

"Say, it's as clear as don't matter we're up against an experienced andorganized proposition, " he said. "I don't guess this is any kind ofscallawag outfit of toughs which just get around and duff a bunch, andhit the trail for safety till the froth they've raised dies down again. It's Orrville repeating itself. " He paused thoughtfully. His eyeswere regarding the table before him. When he raised them again theywere full of a peculiar light which shone in Bud's direction. "Ther'sfeatures in the game carry a parallel to that play, and I guess theypoint the fact that the fellers of that gang who got away at theirround-up have got around this region now, and figure to carry on thesame play right here. You'll get that, Bud--sure. " Bud nodded. "Well, it's up to us, " Jeff went on, as though the other's agreementhad left his course of action clear. "Maybe ther's States Marshallsaround, and a pretty bunch of deputies lying behind Sheriff HankKillick, but there never was an official gang these folk couldn't beata mile. Guess they're not duffing the private property of HankKillick, or any of his boys. We best get busy our own way, which isthe way Dug McFarlane took nearly five years to dream out. "

His blue eyes had grown colder and harder while he talked. There was abite, too, in the manner in which he referred to the doings in Orrvilleof four years ago. There was a curious curl to his firm lips, which, to Nan's mind, suggested a painful smile. And she disliked it. Shedisliked his whole manner, which, just now, was none of the Jeff shehad always known. Bud read deeper. And that which he read carried himback to an unforgettable scene in the Cathills, when a twin stoodgazing upon its other half, hanging by the neck dead under the shade ofa wide-spreading tree. 

"It's up to us to set up a reward, Bud, " Jeff went on, in the samepassionless fashion. "A big reward. We've got to make it so someamateur Judas is ready to sell his friends. It'll cost us a piece, butit's the way to fix things. And anyway it's going to be worth it, sure. I allow we'll need to hand out the story of reward good. It'sgot to reach this gang itself. An' if I guess right, and there'stoughs from Orrville way running this lay-out, why, they aren't li'bleto have forgotten what happened that time. We'll break the gang, or--we'll get 'em. "

There was something unrelenting, and even vicious, in the manner inwhich he gripped the pencil in his hand and dug the pointed lead andcrushed it against the surface of the table. Nan drew a deep sigh ofrelief as he finished speaking, and turned gladly as her father removedhis pipe and cleared his throat. 

"An' the reward. How much?" he questioned. 

The answer flashed back at him like the slash of a knife. 

"Ten thousand dollars!"

In that answer Jeff's voice was unrecognizable to Nan. His wholeexpression, too, seemed to have undergone some subtle change. She satgroping for the meaning of it all, and somehow regretted she had notremained out on the veranda. 

Bud inclined his head and replaced his pipe in corner of his mouth. 

"It goes, " he declared. Then he lumbered out of his chair. "Thatall?" he inquired. And by his manner and tone Nan knew that he, too, had been affected by the things which had troubled her. 

"Not quite. "

Jeff turned on his own foreman. He had lost none his intensity. 

"That reward goes, " he said sharply. "Get the exact amount. Tenthousand dollars. Not a cent more or less. Hand it out everywhere. Meanwhile I'll see to it the notices are printed, and we'll have 'emset up wherever the eyes of these scum are likely to get peekingaround. " Then he emitted a sound like a laugh, but there was no mirthin his eyes. Nor in his manner. "We'll locate the best trees for ahanging, and we'll set 'em up there. "

Nan moved over to an open window as the two headmen took theirdeparture. Bud had taken up a position against the cold iron stove. Jeff alone retained his seat, during the few silent moments whichfollowed. 

With the departure of the men, however, he looked up from a letter hehad withdrawn from his pocket. 

"Say, Bud, " he said without emotion, "guess the Presidency of theWestern Union's going to claim me right away. I'll need to makeOrrville right off. "

"Orrville?" Bud's eyes were sharply scrutinizing. 

"Sure. " Jeff's indifference was obviously assumed. Nan's questioningeyes passed uncertainly from Jeff to her father. There was somethingbetween these two she did not understand. Orrville? It was when hehad been speaking of Orrville all that intensity of bitterness had beenso apparent in Jeff. She received no enlightenment, however. 

"What's the play at--Orrville?"

Bud's question had a suggestion of anxiety in it. 

Jeff rose from his chair. He passed one hand wearily across his browand smoothed back his lank fair hair. 

"Oh, it's just arbitration, " he said. "The parties agree to take mydecision in some grazing rights instead of handing good dollars over tothe law. It's Dug. Dug McFarlane, and a feller called Peters. Petersfiggers he's got rights on Dug's land, and--well, Dug just guesses hehasn't. "

"When are you starting?" Nan inquired, from her place at the window. 

"I'll need to get off early to-morrow. " Jeff's eyes were on the girl. The change in them had become pronounced. Warmth had replacedfrigidity, and the smile in them was real now. "It's tough on top ofmy home-coming, eh, Nan? Maybe Evie'll feel lonesome too--when I tellher. Still, these things are part of the game, and I can't weaken on'em. It's these toughs around I'm worrying 'll scare her. I was kindof wondering if you'd----"

"You don't need to worry a thing. " Nan's smile was full of a staunchreassurance. And her readiness came with a spontaneity which hadnothing to do with Jeff's wife. It was the result of her delight andpride in this man himself who was called upon, and looked to, forleadership, in this little world of theirs. 

"You'll----"

"I'll handle things here for you, Jeff. " Nan gave him no chance tomake his appeal. "Elvine shall be as safe as we can make her. She cancome right over here till you get back, or I'll sleep at your place. It shall be just as she feels. She shan't be lonesome, and I guess myDaddy an' me we're equal to any crowd of rustlers. "

The genuineness, even enthusiasm of the girl was quite transparent. Nor was the man insensible to it. For all his preoccupation herealized something of his debt to these people, to Nan. It was a debthe had never attempted to pay, and now its rapid mounting made evenultimate payment seem doubtful. 

"You're pretty good to me, Nan, " was all he trusted himself to say. 

Nan shook her head in smiling denial. 

"Women need to help each other in--these parts. "

But Jeff did not accept her excuse. 

"Maybe that's so, " he said thoughtfully. "But it don't alter things alittle bit. I'd just like to feel I deserved it. But I don't andcan't feel that way. Some day----" He laughed and made a helplessgesture. "But why talk? It's too easy, and it's mighty cheap anyway. I----"

But Nan was pointing out of the window. She welcomed a suddendiversion. 

"It's Elvine coming right along over. " Then, as Jeff craned forward:"Say, she's a dandy horsewoman. Get a look at her. Gracious, shemight have been born in the saddle. "

But Jeff had not waited. He was out on the veranda to greet his wifeas she came. And just for one instant Nan caught a glimpse of thelight in his eyes which the sight of Elvine had conjured. All thecoldness she had witnessed that morning, all the merciless purpose, even the simple friendliness he had displayed toward her. These weregone. Their place had been taken by a light of passionate regard forthe woman who had yielded herself to him. For a moment it seemed as ifher own emotions must stifle her. But the next she was within the roomagain, her eyes merrily dancing, talking to the parent she adored. 

"Say, you Daddy of mine, " she said, almost boisterously, "haven't youwork to be done, the same as I have? Shame on you for dallying. Shameon us both. Come right along, sir. Come right along at once. " Then, as he moved toward the window, "No, no, you dear blundering Daddy, notthat way! That's reserved. The back door for us, sure. Come along. "

And the great Bud permitted himself to be hustled from the room throughthe kitchen way. 

Nan's effort was only partially successful. In a few moments thefugitives were urgently recalled to hear the news of the disaster atSpruce Crossing, which Elvine had brought with her. And during thediscussion which followed Nan was forced to stand by while the handsomewoman who had supplanted her occupied the centre of attention. 

Somehow the news which held the others, drawing forth hot condemnationfrom Bud, and the bitter comment of Jeff, for once left Nan cold. Somehow it seemed so small a thing compared with that other disasterwhich was always with her. Her whole attention was held by Jeff andhis wife. Not a detail of expression or emotion, as the swift wordsflowed between them, was lost upon her. And the exquisite pain of itall was excruciating. 

The great love of the man was so apparent. There was a moment, even, just as Jeff and Elvine were about to take their departure, when Nancould have almost cried out. It had followed upon an expression ofElvine's dislike and fear of the man who conveyed the news to her. 

Jeff took up her complaint in no half-hearted fashion, and, somehow, the injustice of his attitude and his obvious thought for his wifealone brought the girl's hot resentment very near the surface. 

"Yes, " he said. "He's a tough, sure. I've kept him on because he'sone of the brightest cow-hands east of the mountains. But you'reright, Evie. And I can't stand for you being scared by the 'hands' onmy ranch. I'll have to get rid of him. " Then, as he sat in the saddlewith Elvine on her pony at his side, he had taken in Nan and her fatherin a smiling, comprehensive glance. "I guess Evie's some sport actingthe way she's done, " he declared with a lover's pride. "I allow we oweher a heap of thanks, eh, Bud?"

Bud nodded. 

"We're mighty grateful, ma'am, " he declared, heartily in his formalway. "Guess we all thank you, sure. " Then he turned to Jeff moredirectly. "I'll get busy right away. That'll leave you free to getright on doping out that reward notice this afternoon, an' generallyfixing things before you make the trail to-morrow morning. "

Then they had taken their departure. And with their going Nan hastilyreturned to the parlor. 

Bud followed her almost on the instant. He had moved with incredibleswiftness, which is often the way of heavy men under stress of feeling. Already the tears were gathering in the girl's eyes when his words fellupon her ears. 

"Say, little gal, " he said, with a deep note of sympathy in hisrumbling tones, "we're bein' hit up pretty bad since Jeff bro't herback home. Maybe we're feelin' 'bout as foolish as we're lookin'. Butwe're goin' to beat the game--sure, eh? We're goin' to beat it becausewe're built that way, an'--we got the grit to do it. "

 * * * * * *

The horses were walking leisurely over the summer grass. The house wasless than two miles distant. There was no immediate hurry. Besides, Elvine was reading the letter which Jeff had handed her in reply to herinquiry as to the contemplated journey which Bud had mentioned. 

Jeff was observing her closely as she read. There were no doubts inhis mind. He was not even seeking the effect of the letter. He wasdwelling with a lover's delight upon the picture she made. 

Nor was his approval extravagant. Any one must have admitted thejustice of it. Nan had admitted it when she beheld her in a prairiesaddle, on a prairie pony, with only the wide wealth of grass-land forher setting. Elvine in the saddle suggested a single identity betweenhorse and rider. Her riding suit was expensively simple, and cut asonly such suits can be cut. The figure beneath it was displayed to itsfullest advantage. There was no studied pose. Just the perfection ofhorsemanship which demands an intimate freedom at all times. Then herdark head under her carefully adjusted prairie hat. The shining massesof hair, obvious in their wealth even under careful dressing. Thesoftly healthy cheeks, and the perfect profile as she pored over theletter in her hand. 

Presently Elvine looked up. She did not turn at once to the husband ather side. Her gaze was directed ahead. It ignored the scene ofundulating plain, and the distant ramparts of wooded hills. It sawnothing but the images in her own brain, and the conjured thoughts of atroubled heart and conscience. 

"You see it's important, " Jeff said, with a feeling that the news inthe letter had caused disappointment. 

"I s'pose it is. "

There was a curious lack of interest in the woman manner. Her tone waslistless. 

"I'm afraid I'll have to go. " The man felt he was apologizing, and itseemed absurd that apology should be required. Then he reminded her. "You see, these things come with my work as President. It's prettygood if you think. Guess I'll only be from home one night. "

"You _must_ go--I s'pose?"

The man's eyes widened. 

"Sure. "

"But it seems unfair you should be put to all this for nothing. "

Jeff shook his head. 

"Why, I don't guess it's any worry. Besides, it's an honor. You see, Evie, I'm out all I know to set up a big position for you. And it'sthese calls as President of the Western Union are going to fix thingsthe way I'd have them. "

His eyes had somehow become serious. There was even a lack of hisrecent warmth in them. He had not expected any protest from his wife. A shade of disappointment at his going perhaps. But that was all. 

"You're at the call of anybody around to settle disputes?"

"Only where the interests of cattle-raising are affected. "

Elvine handed him back the letter. She did not turn to him. A curiousset to her lips warned Jeff that in some way his contemplated journeywas adversely affecting her. Nor was it merely the disappointment hehad been prepared for. He felt there was need to say more, though theneed of it was obscure. It had never been his way to appeal, but heresigned himself to the reflection that his life had been entirelychanged by his marriage. He was no longer responsible only to himself. With an effort he flung aside an inclination to resentment. 

"Say, Evie, " he cried, "it's a bit tough on you having to leave youeven for a day just as we've got back to home. It's that way with me, too. I just don't fancy going a small bit. But I daren't refuse DugMcFarlane. He's one of the biggest men around, and I'll need all thefriends I can round up. There's another thing. I've got it back of mymind later on to form a Trust amongst the growers, and Dug's a mostimportant concern in such a scheme. I'd be crazy to refuse. Why, Ijust couldn't refuse anyway. You're going to help me, dear, aren'tyou? I've talked to Bud and Nan, and fixed things so you won't belonesome. Nan's promised to sleep in the house with you, so you shan'tfeel that way. Or you could go over to her. It's just one night, that's all. "

It may have been his obvious sincerity, it may have been that thewoman's objections were really the result of disappointment only. Atany rate a distinct change came over her, and she turned to him with asmile. 

"I'm just too selfish, Jeff, " she cried. "But--but it did seemhard--at first. Go? Of course you must go. And you're not to worryabout me. Nor is Nan. I wouldn't have her come over for me foranything, and I'm not going to sleep out of my home, either. Youneedn't be scared I'll be lonesome. I've got all this beautiful worldaround me, and all your interests. And rustlers? Why, I'm not scaredof the worst rustlers living. "

A delighted sense of gratitude replaced Jeff's every other feeling. 

"Say, " he cried, with a sudden vehemence, "you've good grit, Evie. You're a bully soul. You're the sort would set a man crazy to corralthe world, and set it at your feet. I'll get right back quick. Iwon't wait an hour more than I need. "

Elvine's decision had been forced upon her, but once having taken itshe threw something more into her words than the mere encouragementthat seemed necessary. 

"No, " she declared, her eyes shining. "You're not even to hurry back. Get right through with your work, or any schemes you have to arrangewhile you're there, before you think of me. " Then her voice softenedto a great tenderness. "I want you to win through in everything youundertake, Jeff. I don't care now for a thing else in the world. Youdo believe that, don't you? Oh, Jeff, I want you always to believethat. Whatever may come in our life together, I want you always toknow I love you better--better than the whole world, and your--yourhappiness is just my happiness. Without your happiness I can never behappy. It was selfishness made me demur at first. You believe that, don't you? I have always been very, very selfish. It was nothingelse. You don't think there was anything else, do you? I sort of feelI'd always have you in my sight, near me. I'm happy then, because Ifeel nothing can ever come between us. When you're away, I don't know, but it sort of seems as if shadows grow up threatening me. I felt thatway this morning. I felt that way when I read your letter. But thesethings just shan't be. I love you with all that's in me, and--you loveme. Nothing shall ever come between us. Say that's so, Jeff. Nothing. Nothing. "

The man responded with all a lover's impetuosity. He gave her to thefull that reassurance of which she stood in need. But for all hissincerity it was as useless as if it had been left unspoken. 

The letter from Dug McFarlane at Orrville, the recognition of her bythe man Sikkem Bruce, had warned Elvine that the sands of her time ofhappiness were running out. She felt she knew that a gape of despairwas already yawning at her feet. 

CHAPTER XVIII

DUG MCFARLANE

The aroma of cigars blended delightfully with the fragrant evening air. Through the cool green lacing of the creeper the sun poured the last ofits golden rays into the wide stoop. The mists were already gatheringupon the lower slopes of the hills, and a deep purpling seemed to besteadily embracing the whole of the great mountain range. 

Two men were lounging comfortably in wide wicker chairs on the veranda. They were resting bodies that rarely knew fatigue in the strenuous lifethat was theirs. But then the day was closing, and one of them hadcome a long saddle journey. Whisky stood on a table at the elbow ofDug McFarlane. Jeffrey Masters had coffee near by. 

Outside the veranda a smudge fire in a bucket was doing battle withattacking mosquitoes, while its thin spiral of smoke served as a screenupon the still air to shut out the view of the disheveled township ofOrrville. 

Dug McFarlane, opulent, of middle life and massive proportions, was instrong contrast to his guest. The American-Scot was something of aproduct of the soil. He was of the type which forces its way up fromthe smallest of small beginnings, a type which decides early upon acareer in life, and which deviates not one step from the set course. He was a man of one idea--cattle. 

He knew nothing beyond--cattle. Cattle was the sum and substance ofhis celibate life. He was an old type of ranchman whose waking hourswere devoted to a physical labor which left no room for anything else. But Jeff knew that for all his roughness of manner and speech, aroughness which left his own partner, Bud, a man of education andrefinement beside him, he counted his wealth, as he, Jeff, could onlyhope to count his in the distant years to come. 

Jeff was his guest for the night, and the dispute upon which he was toarbitrate was to be settled upon the arrival of the man Peters. Andwhile they waited they talked of the thing which was their mutualinterest. The land and its produce, whether animal or vegetable, wastheir beginning and end. They discussed every prospect from theoverwhelming competition of the Argentine, to the rapid transformationof grazing pastures into golden wheat fields. Their interest seemedendless, and it seemed only to require the non-appearance of Peters fortheir talk to continue until sleep overtook them. 

But the break came in the flow of their "shop" at the mention of thename of Peters. Jeff was curious to hear about him. 

"Who is this Peters, anyway?" he demanded. "He's not down in the stockregister, and nobody seems to have found him except you. "

Dug's reply came with a great laugh. His very bright gray eyes werefull of a good humor beneath his pronounced black brows. 

"Peters? Why, I guess Peters 'ud make a funeral procession laff. You've never seen him? You don't know him? No. Sure you wouldn't. Nor you wouldn't find him registered. Y'see, they don't register mixedfarm stock. Anyways, he got me laffin' all the time. But he'sbright--oh, yep, he's bright, sure. He's a little feller. To git himright you need to think of a buck louse with a think-box developedabnormal. He's a great amusin' little cuss when you see him on hispatch of land. You'd think he was runnin' a cirkis he's so busy fixin'things wrong. I'd like him fine if it wa'an't fer his habits. I can'tstand the feller who eats the top of his fingers raw, an' sings hymnso' Sunday in a voice that never oughter been handed out to anythinglivin' that hadn't the sense to choke itself at birth. "

"Is that the reason of the dispute?" Jeff asked with smile. 

Dug grinned and shook his head. 

"No, siree, " he cried. "It ain't a thing to do with it. But I guesswe'll keep clear of the dispute till he gets around. Y'see, thisarbitration game needs to be played good. I'd hate to get ahead of thelittle cuss by settin' out my case in private. Nope. I hain't got athing agin that grasshopper. Not a thing, and I jest need to get thisthing straightened right, even if it goes agin me. That's why we fixedon appealin' to you rather than the law. Y'see, I could buy up adecision at law, which Peters knows, so we decided on the rightjudgment of a straight feller. Say, what in----!"

Dug sprang from his chair with a forcible oath. Jeff, too, was on hisfeet. There was a frantic clatter beyond the screen of creeper. Astring of hoarse invective in a human voice. The hammering of horses'hoofs and the sound of tin being battered in a wanton riot. Dug brokeinto a great laugh as he thrust his head out. 

"Well, I be----!" he cried. 

Jeff joined in his laugh. An absurdly small man was clingingdesperately to the saddle of an absurdly large horse, which was rearingand plunging in a wild effort to shed its rider and bolt from theneighborhood of the overturned smudge-fire bucket. 

What a wealth of terror reigned. The gray-headed little man's facematched the hue of his hair. His short arms were grabbing franticallyat his horse's neck. His eyes were full of a piteous appeal, and hissavage-looking spurs were firmly grappling his steed's flanks. Thewretched horse was shaking in every limb. Its eyes were bulging, andthe fierce snorts of his gushing nostrils had the force of escapingsteam. 

Before any assistance could be offered by the onlookers the climax wasreached and passed. Elias Peters rolled slowly out of the saddle andreached the ground with a heavy flop. Then, while its recent burdengathered himself up, quite unhurt and smiling amiably in relief, thehorse contentedly mouched off toward a patch of inviting grass. 

"Guess I'm kind o' late, Mr. McFarlane, " Elias apologized. "An' itseems I've bust up your fire-bucket some, " he added ruefully. Thenwith cheery optimism: "It was hustling to get here. I didn't jest seeit. Still, I got around. "

"You sure have, " grinned Dug. Then he indicated his companion. "Thisis Mr. Jeffrey Masters, President of the Western Union. If you'll comeright along in we ken get things fixed up. Meanwhiles I'll jest have a'hand' round-up your plug an' feed him hay. "

 * * * * * *

Another chair was brought from the house and Elias Peters was ensconcedtherein. He was a gray little man. Gray from head to foot, it seemed. His hair, his eyes, his skin, his whiskers, his shirt, his loose jacketover it, his trousers. Even the top-boots he wore, which, haddoubtless once been black. Everything about him was gray. 

Dug pressed whisky on him. 

"Take your time, " he had said, in his easy, cordial fashion. "Ther'ain't no sort o' hurry. It's li'ble to shake a boy o' your yearsfoolin' around in the dust when you'd oughter be in the saddle. "

"That's just it, Mr. McFarlane, " came the prompt, distressed complaint. "What in the nature o' blamed things made me act that way?"

"Jest the--nature o' things, I guess. "

The little man's eyes twinkled. 

"Guess you mean ther's folks who ain't in their right element in thesaddle, an'--I'm one of 'em. " Then he turned on Jeff, whose wholeinterest had been quite absorbed in a personality which Dug haddescribed as being reminiscent of a "buck louse. " "Say, Mr. Masters, guess you ain't never tried any stunt like raisin' kebbiges on a hogranch? No, sure you ain't. Ther's jest one feller runnin' loose onthis planet 'ud act that way, an' that's me. Guess I bin doin' it allmy life, " he added, thoughtfully chewing a forefinger. "I was builtfor, an' raised in a fifth rate city, an' I got the ideas an' ambitionsof the President of a Republic. Ther' ain't a blamed thing I can't dobut I want to do. An' the worst of it is ther's a sort o' restlessspirit in me jest sets me so crazy to do it I can't resist makin' thejump. That's how I come to buy up a bum homestead up toward the hillshere, an' got the notion I could make a pile runnin' a mixed farm thatway. That's how I come to get outside a hoss when I'd be safer inside. That's how I come to--'break' a deal more prairie land than I couldever sow or harvest. That's how I bought machinery for a thousand acrefarm when I'd only got a half a mile. That's how I come to run a bunchof cows without settin' up fencin' around my crops. That's how I bo'tthe whole blamed lay-out without verifyin' the darned law feller'sstatement I'd got grazin' rights on Mr. McFarlane's grass--which is thething I came right here to yarn about when I got mixed up with thatunnatural hell, which I've learned since was only set up to amuse theskitters. Kind o' makes me feel if I was to set fer my pictur' I'dsure come out a shipwreck at sea, or some other darn fool kind ofunpleasantness. "

Jeff was forced to echo the laugh which Dug indulged in withoutrestraint. It seemed cruel in face of the strange little man's seriousdistress. But its only effect upon him was to produce an inquiringglance of profound but unresentful astonishment. 

"Guess I must 'a' said something, " he protested mildly. "Seems to me Imost generly do, with Mr. McFarlane around. " Then he smiled in hiswintry fashion, which was quite powerless to add warmth to his curiousaspect of grayness. "Guess he must ha' been born laffin'--p'raps, " headded thoughtfully. "It's a dandy thing bein' born laffin'. I don'treckon I ever got that luck. It's more likely my moma got lost in afog the day I was born. Can't account noways fer things otherwise. "

Dug pushed the whisky bottle at him as a set-off to his ownuncontrolled mirth, and in a few moments contrived to subdue hisparoxysms sufficiently to start the business in hand. 

"Now, Masters, " he said, as soon as the diminutive Elias had ministeredadequately to his glass, "we've got a curious proposition to set beforeyou. It's jest one of them things which crops up in a country likethis, where a whole heap o' the laws happens along through custom. An'like all sech customs, ther's li'ble to be a tarnation lot of frictionlyin' around if we can't get a right settlement. Now, if we go to thecourts it's goin' to be a mighty big scrap, eatin' up a hell of a pileof dollars. An' if you're wise to the ways of the law fellers you kenjust about figger the verdict is goin' to come along to the feller withthe biggest wad. In this case I guess I'm the feller with the biggestwad. Now, ther's no sort o' bad blood between Peters an' me, 'cep' itis he will sing hymns outrageous on a Sunday. Still, I ain't goin' tolet that cut no ice. I'm out for a square decision between us by afeller that don't know the meanin' of graft. I don't care a cuss whogets it. But I ain't goin' to be bluffed by any fancy legal readingsof a position by city lawyers who don't know the north end of a steergoin' south from the cluckin' proposition of a blind hen motherin' alitter o' dormice. Peters here'll give you his case, seein' he'splaintiff, in an elegant flow of warm air, an' when he's through I'llsort of hand you a counterblast. An' when we finished you'll hand outyour dope on the subject, that is if we ain't talked you into a homefor incurable arbitrators. You'll get busy right away, Peters. "

The rancher's manner was irresistible in its breezy frankness andgenerosity. Jeff wondered at him. Any man of modern business methods, he felt, would have jumped at the advantage which his wealth would havegiven him in the law courts over so insignificant a person as EliasPeters. The whole situation inspired in him the feeling that he was inthe presence of a really big man. A man who deserved every fraction ofhis success. 

Nor was there any doubt as to the little gray man's feelings as he tooka drink of whisky, and fixed his small eyes upon the weather andyears-lined features of his adversary. 

"Guess you've made me feel 'bout as big as an under-fed skitter, " hecomplained. "You make me sort o' feel I want to tell you to keep yourdarn grazin' rights till I ken hand you a bunch of bills such as I'dlike to pass on to an honest man. But I don't guess I'm goin' to doit. Y'see, I just can't afford it. If I can't graze my stock on yourgrass they got to starve, or I got to get out. An', seein' I doped allmy wad into this lay-out, it 'ud well-nigh mean ruin to act that way. "

Then he turned to Jeff, who was almost bewildered at the curiousattitude toward each other of these men. 

"Now, I ain't got a fancy yarn to hand you, " he went on, fumbling inhis pockets. "I jest got my papers, here, as I got 'em from the lawfellers. You best take 'em, an' after we done get a look into 'em. "He passed them across. "Now these are the fac's of how I bo't, why Ibo't, an' who I bo't from. The place is a haf section, an' they askedfive thousand odd dollars for it. It was a bum sort o' homestead, an'belonged to a widder woman who'd got her man shot up by some rustlersworkin' around this country. They went by the name of Whitstone, buttheir real name, by them papers, was Van Blooren----"

"What name?" Jeff's voice broke sharply in upon the little man. 

"Van Blooren. "

"Go on. "

Jeff's eyes were gazing out through the lacing of creeper. He was nolonger regarding the man's unemotional gray features. 

"Wal, the place wa'an't worth the five thousand, 'cep' fer one clausein them papers. This widder woman owned a right to graze up to twohundred head o' stock on Mr. McFarlane's range. There was no mentiono' lease, nor nothin' to talk of payin' fer it. The right was in thedeed of sale, clear an' unquestioned. You'll see it right there inthem papers. Wal, I'm runnin' a hundred of stock, and the half sectionis under cultivation. Now, Mr. McFarlane comes on me with the newsthat this widder woman had no such rights to sell, an' that she and herman were only allowed to graze their stock on his grass to help themout. He's acted white over it so far, an' ain't taken no sort ofaction. He's jest let my fool cows an' their calves run around chewin'till their jaws is tired, which is a white way of seein' things. Allhe's handed me is that I ain't got no right, an' the thing standspending your decision. He says the whole proposition is jest business. He's got to safeguard the values of his property. Now, sir, I claimthem rights by right of that deed, an' if ther's any case it's betweenthat Van Blooren widder an' Mr. McFarlane. You got my papers, an'--wal, how d'you guess I stand?"

The little man's eyes were anxious as he made his final appeal. But nosatisfaction was forthcoming at the moment. Jeff's head was bent overthe papers he had been handed. His eyes were hidden. He seemed whollyengrossed upon the various clauses in the deed. Finally he spokewithout looking up. 

"There's no deed granting grazing rights executed by Mr. McFarlanehere, " he said. 

Before Peters could reply, Dug broke in. 

"Ther' never was one made, " he said easily. "I don't guess you'll findit ther'--'less you use trick eyes. Here--say, Peters has given youhis story right. I ain't no kick comin' to a word of it. But thisthing has more sides to it than you'd fancy. Now, I don't just care acuss Peters' grazin' two hundred, or five hundred head of stock on mypastures. But if Peters bo't rights an' ken prove it, why, he's theright to sell 'em on to any feller who comes along, which kind o' turnsmy ranch into common land. Nothin' doin'. No, siree!"

Jeff had abandoned his search of the papers. Nor was he regardingeither of the men. His eyes were directed through the lacing ofcreeper, his gaze concentrated upon the purple vista of the hills. Hisbrows were depressed with profound thought. Nor were the blue depthsof his eyes easy. Peters' whole attention was upon the rancher. 

"Now, see right here, Masters, " Dug went on, after a deeply consideringpause. "I got a story to tell you I'd have liked to hold up, an' thereason I hate handin' it you is jest a sort o' fool sense of honor. Howsum, when folks git gay I can't see you're right to hold your hand. Now, them rights are sold by the law fellers of that widder woman, an', I guess, actin' under her instructions. Now, she knows she don't ownno rights to sell. Wal, I allow she's on the crook. "

"Crook?" Jeff's interrogation came swiftly, in a harsh voice utterlyunlike his own. Then his eyes came round to the face of the rancher. There was something deadly in the steadiness of their regard. "Thiswidow, " he said. "Her name is Van Blooren. What is her first name, and the first name of her--husband?"

Before Dug could reply Peters pointed at the deeds of sale. 

"Guess her full name's writ ther', " he said. "Elvine van Blooren. Sort of queer name, ain't it? It sort o' hit me that way when I firstsee it. Kind o' good name fer a--crook. "

Jeff's eyes dropped to the papers again as Dug gave the otherinformation required. 

"The man's name was Robert--Bob. Called hisself when he was here. Y'see, his paw was some swell guy who guessed his son had made somedarn fool marriage. An' I allow he was wise. Howbe, their names an'sech don't cut no ice. "

"No. "

Jeff's monosyllable brought Dug's gaze swiftly in his direction. Thenext moment they were looking squarely into each other's eyes, and, asfar as Jeff was concerned, Peters was entirely forgotten. 

"Will you tell me all you know of--this woman?" Jeff said, after amoment. "I guess it'll be necessary--before we're through. "

"Sure. That's how I figgered. " A momentary tension seemed to havebeen relaxed. Dug once more settled himself at his ease. 

"'Tain't a pretty yarn, when you come to think, " he said, his browscontracting under his feelings. "Men are jest men, an' I guess youdon't generly expect more'n a stink from a skunk. But with women it'sdiff'rent. When a feller thinks of women, he thinks of his mother, orsweetheart, or his wife. An' when he thinks that way, why, I don'tguess he figgers to find bad wher' he reckoned ther' was only good. Howsum, it kind o' seems to me human nature's as li'ble to set a fellercryin' as laffin' most times. This thing come over that Lightfootgang. We got most of 'em, and those we got if they wa'an't pumped fullof lead out of hand they was hanged. Sort o' queer, too, the way wegot 'em. I'd set up a reward. Ten thousand dollars. It was right outo' my own bank roll. Wal, I set it up--the notice o' reward--onenight, an' next day got the news we was all yearnin' for. BobWhitstone, as he called himself, brought it right along to me. Ihadn't no use fer the feller up to then. He was weak-kneed. And, in away, had fallen fer Ju Penrose's rye. He'd come to me once before onthe subject o' these all-fired grazin' rights. Y'see, he'd been tryin'to git ahead raisin' wheat in a country where ther' was only a marketfer cattle an' rye whisky. Anyway, he cut most o' the wheat racket, an' guessed he'd travel the same road as other folks, an' asked me forpermission to graze. I was kind o' sorry about him, an' hisgood-lookin' wife--both city-raised folk--an' I did as he ast. I saidhe could graze up to two hundred head. Git a line on that. Themrights was verbal between him an' me to help him out. Ther' wa'an't nosort o' deed, an' he knew it wa'an't no saleable proposition. Wal, when he come along in with his news I set him right through it, an' Iallow, before I quit him, I got the notion that fer all his addled waysthere was a heap to him I hadn't guessed. He started by sayin' he'dlocated the rustlers, got their camp set in the hills, an' could handover the whole blamed bunch right away quick. That was elegant. But Iast him how it come he'd on'y located 'em twelve hours after I'd set upa ten thousand dollar reward. Y'see, they'd been rustlin' around fi'years. Wal, to cut a long yarn, I got the whole thing out of him inquick time--he was like a kid in my hands. He hadn't located thatcamp, he wasn't goin' to touch a cent of them ten thousand. He calledit 'blood money, ' an' cussed it good an' plenty with an elegant flow. It was his wife. Yes, siree, it was the woman driving the man. She'dlocated them rustlers by chance only the day before, while he wasaround Ju's place sousin' rye. When he got home an told her of thereward, she was nigh crazy to git her hands on the dollars. Seems tome ther' must have been a mighty scrap-up. I guess she told him of hisways, an' what he'd brought her to--in a way some women-folk can. Ididn't git it all clear. Y'see, he did his best to screen her. Anyways, she made him promise to fix things so she touched thosedollars. An' that's why he come to me. Ther's jest one thing stuck inmy head so I can't lose it. It was his last words to me about it. Hesays, says he, see here, Mr. McFarlane, I need one favor out o' you. Iwant to go with you on this racket, an' if ther's any mercy in the Godof Heaven, he'll let me get my dose when the shootin' starts. Effie--that's how he called his wife--wants them dollars, an' you'llsee she gets 'em. But for me I just couldn't ever live around a womanwho'd handled that blood money! He didn't use them words. They'remine. But it's 'bout how he put it. Wal, when the play was over he'dhad his wish. He was dropped plumb in his tracks. Then I handed hiswidder the dollars. She ain't around these parts now so it don'tmatter handin' you the story of it. Maybe she's married agin. She wassome picture woman. But anyway I'd say right here, the woman who couldtake the price of men's lives would be low enough to bluff a boy likePeters here out of his stock of dollars on a play like these rights. An' that's why I reckon this thing's been done on the crook. "

He reached round for his glass and took a deep drink in the silencethat followed his story. Then, as neither the man who was toarbitrate, nor Peters, attempted to break it, he went on:

"Guess a reward's jest a reward, an' you can't kick at the feller whocomes along an' grabs a holt on it. But when a woman, young, agood-looker, an' eddicated, an' refined, gits grabbin', why, it makesyou see sulphur an' brimstone, an' horns an' hoofs when your thoughtsare full o' buzzin' white wings an' harps, an' halos an' things. Gitme? I guess stealin' dollars out o' a citizen's pocket-book wouldn'tbe a circumstance to a female of that nature. Say, I ain't got rid o'the stink of it yet, though it happened four years ago. "

The man's contempt and loathing were intense. He had offered thereward, paid it, he had led the Vigilantes in the hanging. But thesethings were simply part of the justice of man as he saw it, and rightlyadministered. 

The silent moments slipped by. Jeffrey Masters was sitting erect inhis chair. A marble coldness seemed to have settled itself upon hiskeen face. Peters was waiting for that decision he desired. DugMcFarlane, with more understanding, realized that something was wrong. He, too, remained silent, however. 

At last Jeff stirred. His gaze shifted. It turned half vaguely uponthe little man Peters. Then it seemed to drift unmeaningly toward therancher. A moment later it fell upon the papers he was so tightlygripping. It was then that realization seemed to come upon him. Hereached out and handed the deeds to their owner. A moment later he wason his feet, and had moved across to the front of the veranda, where hestood, slim, erect, and with his back turned upon the others. 

He cleared his throat and spoke in a steady voice. 

"I can only hand you a decision on the intention as apart from thelegal aspect of the case, " he said judicially. "It's clear to me nosaleable rights were given. There was no transaction over them. Thewidow of this man had no rights to sell. If disinterested advice isacceptable I should urge this. It's in view, I guess, of McFarlane'sexpressed indifference to Peters' cattle grazing on his land. LetPeters acknowledge he has no rights. Then let McFarlane enter into anagreement that Peters can run his stock on his land, the right beingnon-transferable. I should put the whole thing in writing. "

"An' a darn good an' honest decision, too, " cried Dug heartily. 

The shadow of a beatific smile passed over Peters' small features. 

"Bully!" he murmured. Then he added: "But I sort o' feel we bothoughter set the law on that--she devil. "

Jeff turned abruptly. His movement was almost electrical. 

"I shouldn't, " he said sharply. 

Dug caught a glimpse of the desperate light in his eyes. 

"Why not?" There was a dash of resentment in Peters' tone. 

But Jeff was spared a reply. Dug anticipated him with an oath. 

"Gol darn you, because she's--a woman!" he cried, with a fierce warmth. "Hell take it you ken have your rights. That's enough, I guess. I'llhave the papers wrote, an' have you sign 'em to-morrow. Meanwhile I'msick to death of the whole blamed thing. I quit right here. "

His intention was plain enough. He meant there should be nomisunderstanding it. And the little man, Peters, took his dismissalwithout demur. 

The moment Peters had safely negotiated the saddle and vanished in acloud of dust, Dug pressed the whisky bottle upon his guest. Jeffalmost mechanically accepted it. He gulped down a stiff drink of neatspirit. Dug watched him. 

"Guess you're feelin' pretty darn saddle weary, " he said kindly. 

Jeff flung himself into his chair without replying. 

Dug returned to his seat and gazed out at the yellow and purpleafterglow of sunset. 

"Say, maybe you'd feel like handin' me the reason you wouldn't set thelaw on to that--woman?" he went on presently. 

The question was by no means idle. It was inspired by the man'sgenuinely kindly nature. Somehow, he felt that he had been responsiblefor that which he had seen, still saw, in this man's eyes. 

But he was wholly unprepared for the reply forthcoming. It camepromptly. Each word came distinctly, deliberately, in a voice ofbitter coldness. The tragedy of it left the rancher speechless. 

"Because I married Elvine van Blooren just over six weeks ago. "

CHAPTER XIX

THE RETURN HOME

A long day of anxiety and fevered apprehension merged into a night ofterror. It was the outcome of a conviction that was irresistible. Theshadow of disaster was marching hard upon her heels. Nor had she thepower to avoid it. 

As night came on Elvine remained alone in her twilit bedroom. She hadno desire to come into contact with the servants, she had no desire forhuman companionship of any sort. So, with the fading light, she betookherself to the bedroom. 

But there was no relief. It was haunted to-night, teeming with thefancies of a dreading imagination. It seemed to her like the cell of acondemned prisoner. 

The day had passed heavily, drearily. Every moment of it had beenfilled with the thought that Jeff was on his way to Orrville. On hisway to meet Dug McFarlane. On his way to meet the one man in whosehands her whole fate lay. He alone knew the source of the ten thousanddollars which she had carried back to her paternal home as the netresult of her first marriage. He alone knew it to be the price of theblood of men, amongst whom was the twin brother of her present husband. 

Memory was alive, and full of a poignant torture. It brought back toher the scene when she had driven her first husband to help her to themoney she had desired to possess. He had spoken, in his horror andanger, of "blood money, " of "Judas, " and she would not hear. She hadderided him, she had lashed him with the scorn of an unbridled tongue, she had turned upon him in her selfish craving, without a thought ofany principle. 

Now she understood what she had done, but she only understood becauseof the threat which overshadowed her. It was no spiritual awakening. It was again the self in her, threatened in its desires as a result ofher earlier wanton actions. Her motives, even the picture of thecarnage in that hidden valley, which came back to her unbidden, had nopower to add to the hopelessness of her feelings. Every emotion waswrapped in the thought that she was about to be robbed of all thefruits of the one great passion of her life. 

She had one desire now, one motive in life only. It was the man shehad married. The man she had designed to marry for the station andwealth he could offer her, and who had almost instantly become thecentre of her whole life. Nothing of any worldly consideration countedany longer. There was nothing could interest her of which he did notoccupy the centre of the focus. Self dominated still, but it was amore human type of self, which had, perhaps, some rightful claim onhuman sympathy. 

The shadows grew, and the wide airy room was filled with a hundredadded terrors which claimed reality in the troubled brain. The silenceof the world about her became a threat. The darkening of the cloudlesssky beyond the open window. She sat on, refusing to invoke the aid oflamp-light to banish the gathering legions of her dread. She knew itwas impossible to banish them. 

Oh, she had no physical fear of the world about her. What was there tofear? Did she not know it all? Had she not lived it all before? Thetwo wide open windows invited her. She moved to one of them, and drewa chair so that she could rest upon the sill and gaze out into thespace so perfectly jeweled. And the cool night air fanned her cheeks, and seemed to relieve the fever that was raging behind her hot eyes. 

The morrow. There was no other concern with her now but--the morrow. To-morrow Jeff would return. To-morrow she would know the worst, shewould know if the purpose of Fate were for or against her. Oh, thatto-morrow! And in the meantime there were interminable hours ofdarkness to endure, when sleep was impossible. And after that thedaylight, when she must fear every eye that was turned in herdirection, when every moment brought nearer the possibility of the endfor her of all things in the world which mattered. 

The night wore on. Midnight came and passed. She had not moved again. Her straining eyes had watched the starry groups as they set beyond thehorizon. There was no moon to create shadows upon the wide, rollingpasture before her. Everything was in shadow, just as her everythought was similarly enwrapped. There was no relief anywhere. 

Once she heard a sound that set her jarred nerves hammering. It was adistant sound, and, to her fancy, it was the rapid beat of horse'shoofs sweeping across the wide valley. But it died out. She had beencaught by the thought of the possibility of her husband's return, suddenly, in the night. She pictured for one brief instant theheadlong race of the man to charge her with the crime of his brother'slife. 

She saw that keen, stern face with its cold blue eyes and the grimlytightened lips. She had seen some such expression there before, andshe knew there were depths within his soul which she had never probed, and hoped that she might never have to probe. 

It was the mystery of these unknown depths which had inspired herpassion. It was because of that cognizance of something unusual, profound, in his personality that he had first become so completelydesirable. Then as she grew to know him, so she found she knew himless, and desired to know him more. Her love and worship of him was ofthe primitive. It was such as is the love of all women when inspiredby an emotion not untouched by fear. 

So, when the sounds of hoof-beats broke the night silence, she becamepanic-stricken, because such a return, at such an hour, could have butone meaning. 

Then the sounds passed, and her nerves steadied, and presently astirring night breeze rustled the lank grass. It came over the plaintoward her. It reached her window and fanned her cheeks with its chillbreath. Then it passed, sighing round an angle of the house. Then, inits wake, came the plaintive dole of a scavenging coyote. Thecombination, to her fancy, was an echo of her feelings. It was thesigh of despair, and the cry of a lost soul. 

Presently the drowse of utter weariness descended upon her. The dreadof thought remained heavily overshadowing, but a certain distortiondisplayed the reaching of limits beyond which human power could not go, even in suffering. It was a merciful nature asserting itself. Hereyes closed, slowly, gently, with a drowsy helplessness. Once herelbow slipped from the sill of the window and awoke her. A somnolentthought that she would go to bed passed dully through her mind. Butshe did not act upon it. She propped her head upon her hand once more, and, in a moment, everything was forgotten. 

She awoke with a start. There was no drowse in her wakefulness now. Her eyes were wide, and her thoughts alert. The sensation of a blow, alight, unforceful blow was still tingling through her nerves. Theblow, it seemed, had fallen upon her forehead, and she thrust a hand upmechanically to the spot. But the action yielded her no enlightenment. There was no pain, no sign. 

She peered through the open window and realized that the moon hadrisen. She stared at it, and presently it occurred to her that shemust have slept, and, by the position of the moon above the horizon, for at least an hour. 

Then her thoughts returned to the blow which had awakened her, and theconclusion followed that it must have been the result of the half-blindflight of one of those great winged beetles. 

She closed the window abruptly. She closed the second one. Then, having drawn the curtains, she fumbled for the matches and lit thecandles upon her dressing bureau. It was her intention to search forthe intruding beetle, and then retire. 

But her search terminated abruptly. It terminated even as it began. That which had struck her was lying almost at her feet upon the softrug on which she stood, and within a yard of where she had beensitting. It was a piece of paper tied about a small ball of soil. 

She stared down at it for some startled moments. The effects of herdread were still upon her, and they set up a sort of panic which madeher fearful of touching the missile. But it could not remain thereuninspected. There could be no thought of retiring without learningthe meaning of what lay there on the floor. 

Gingerly she stooped with a candle in her hand. She stooped lower, butmaking no attempt to touch the thing which had disturbed her. Thecandle revealed a folded sheet of white paper. A string bound it roundthe rooted portion of a grass tuft. 

After a few moments she reached out and picked it up. The next momentshe was standing erect at her bureau, and with a pair of scissors shesevered the string and dropped the grass tuft to the floor. 

The paper was folded and thumb-marked by dirty hands. With shakingfingers and tense nerves she deliberately unfolded it. 

It was a note, and she read it eagerly. 

"You sold the lives of men for a price. You had it your way then. We're goin' to have our way now. You'll pay for that deal the only waywe know. "

 * * * * * *

Elvine sat watching the scenes of the work of the range. The men werereturning from distant points making for the ranch house where theirevening meal was awaiting them at the bunkhouse. Teams were movingtoward the barns, and barn-hands were watering those which had alreadyreturned. There was a general stir everywhere. Certain stock wasbeing corralled and hayed for the night. In the hay corral men werebusy cutting and hauling feed. There was no loneliness, no solitude. The business of so great an enterprise as the Obar Ranch involved manyhands, and seemingly endless work. 

But Elvine watched these things without interest. In her present stateof mind they meant nothing to her, they could mean nothing. She waswaiting, waiting in a perfect fever for the home-coming of her husband. 

Strangely, too, she was not without a glimmer of hope. Somehow thebelief had taken possession of her that had Jeff learned anything ofher story he must have been home before this. It seemed to her that hemust have flung every consideration to the winds, and rushed in feveredhaste to denounce her as the murderess of his twin brother. 

The mysterious note which had been flung in through her open window hadleft her sleepless for the rest of the night, but, even so, now, in thebroad light of day, it was only relatively alarming. The other terroroverwhelmed it. 

The sun was already tinting the hilltops with ruddy, golden hues. Thefrigid snow-caps no longer wore their sheen of alabaster. There was agolden radiance everywhere, a suggestion of a perfect peace, such asthe woman felt could never again find place in her heart. 

She turned her eyes from the splendor of the scene in silent protest. The green of the wide-spreading valley, even the dark purple shadows ofthe lower mountain slopes were better in harmony with her mood. Buteven these she denied in her nervous irritation, and again, and yetagain, her searching gaze was flung out to the northwest along thetrail over which she knew her husband must come. 

The waiting seemed endless. And the woman's heart literally stoodstill when at last she detected an infinitesimal flurry of dust away onthe far distance of the trail. A mad desire surged through her to fleefor hiding to those vast purple solitudes she knew to lie in the heartof the hills. 

She remained where she was, however. She stirred not a muscle. Shewas powerless to do so. What, what had the coming of the man for her?It was the one absorbing question which occupied her whole brain andsoul. 

The dust flurry grew to a long trail in the wake of a horseman. Infive minutes he stood out ahead of it, clear to the eye. In ten hisidentity was distinguishable. And, presently he rode swiftly at agallop past the ranch buildings and drew up before the house. 

The rack of that moment was superlative. The woman's hands clenchedand her finger nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms. There wasno greeting upon her lips. She only had power to stare; her widebeautiful eyes were searching the face of the man she loved, searchingit as the criminal in the dock might search the face of the judge aboutto pass sentence. 

Her tongue was ready for its release. Pent words lay deep in her soulfor an outpouring at the lightest sign. But these things weredependent, dependent upon the reading she found in the man's eyes. 

The horse stood drooping at the termination of its effort. The mansprang from the saddle. A barn-hand took the beast away to its stable. Elvine's tongue remained almost cleaving to the roof of her mouth. 

The man's fair brows were depressed. His eyes were sternly cold. Andnot once did they turn in her direction. He spoke in his usual tone tothe barn-hand. He issued his orders without a sign of emotion. 

Elvine could stand no more. She stirred. Then slowly she passedwithin the house. 

Presently Jeff's step sounded on the veranda. It was quick. There wasnothing lagging in it. The woman gripped the back of a chair in theliving-room in which she had taken refuge. She was seeking support. 

The man entered the room. Nor did he remove his hat. He stood justwithin the window opening, and his eyes, cold as the gleam of themountain glaciers, regarded her steadily. 

"I see you understand, " he said. "You realized what must happen when Ivisited Dug McFarlane in the matter of Peters, who bought your deadhusband's farm. You knew it when you read that letter I gave you. Andso you protested. So you assured me of--your regard. "

He came a step nearer. The movement was almost involuntary. 

"I have prayed to God that some day he might bring me face to face withthe person who sold my brother's life. He has granted me my prayer. But it never entered my wildest dreams that it could be the woman Imarried. I never questioned your past. To me it was sufficient thatyou had taught me the meaning of love. To me you must be all youseemed. No more, no less. God help me, I had no imagination to tellme that so fair a body could contain so foul a heart. Were you not mywife, were you a man, I should know how to deal with that which liesbetween us. As it is you must thank the difference in our sex for thatwhich nothing else could have done for you. As yet I have not had thetime to arrange the details of our future. To-morrow, perhaps, thingswill have cleared in my mind. I shall sleep to-night over at Bud's----"

"Oh, Jeff, Jeff, have mercy. I----"

"Mercy? Mercy?" A sudden fire blazed up where only a frigid light hadshone. The man's tones were alive with a fury of passion. "Did youhave mercy? Was there one merciful, womanly emotion in your cruel, selfish heart when you sent those men, that man to his death for tenthousand filthy dollars? Pray to God for mercy, not to me. "

A curious sullen light dawned in the woman's eyes. But even as itdawned it faded with the man's movement to depart. 

"You--you won't leave me?" she pleaded. "Oh, Jeff, I love you so. What I did was in ignorance, in cruel, selfish longing. I had beenreduced to the life of a drudge without hope, without even a house fitfor existence. I believed I had honest right. I believed even that myact was a just one. Jeff, Jeff, don't leave me, don't drive me out ofyour life. I cannot bear it. Anything, anything but that. My God, Idon't deserve it. I don't--true. Jeff--Jeff!"

Her final appeal came as the man, without a word, passed through theopen window. She followed him in a desperate hope. But the hope wasvain. She saw him mount the fresh horse which had been brought roundand left at the tying post. 

As he turned the beast about to depart, just for one instant he lookedin her direction. 

"I will see you again in the morning. By that time I shall havedecided what is best for us both. "

He waited for no more. There was nothing to wait for. He lifted thereins and his horse set off. The dust rose up and screened him fromview. 

Once more Elvine was standing on the veranda. Once more her gaze wasfollowing the trail of rising dust. But there was no fever of suspensein her beautiful eyes now. There were not even tears. The blow hadfallen. Fate had caught up with her. Its merciless onrush hadoverwhelmed her. She was crushed. She was broken under itssledge-hammer blow. She stood drooping, utterly, utterly broken andspiritless before the man's swift, brief indictment and action. 

The end had come. Nor had it anything of the end she had visualized inher dread. It was ten times more cruel than she had even dared todream. 

CHAPTER XX

AT BUD'S

Supper was over when Jeff arrived. He came straight into the roomwhere the colored girl had just finished clearing the table. Nan wasreturning a few odds and ends to their places. Bud had already lit hisevening pipe preparatory to settling down for the brief interim beforeturning in for the night. 

There was no preamble. There was no sign of emotion, even at themoment of his arrival. Jeff launched his request at father anddaughter in a voice such as he might have used in the most commonplaceof affairs. 

It was a request to be put up for the night. 

But both Bud and Nan were startled. Nan's cheeks paled, andimagination gripped her. She said nothing. With Bud to be startledwas to instantly resort to verbal expression. 

"Wot's wrong?" he demanded. 

Then the storm broke. It broke almost immoderately before these twowho were the intimates of Jeff's life. All that had been withheldbefore Dug McFarlane, all which he had refused to display before thewife he had set up for his worship, Jeff had no scruples in layingbefore these two. It was the sure token of the relations between them, relations of perfect trust and sympathy. 

Bud sat gazing at the outward sign of the passionate fires he hadalways known to lie smouldering in the depths of this man's soul. Nanstood paralyzed before such violence. Both knew that hell was ragingunder the storm of emotion. Both knew that the wounds inflicted uponthis man's strong heart were well-nigh mortal. 

The whole story was told, broken, disjointed. For the first time Nanlearned the result of the search for an erring twin brother, and herhorror was unbounded. A heart full of tenderness bled for the manwhose sufferings she was witnessing. The story of Elvine's own actionsfilled her with revolting, yet with pity. It was not in her to condemneasily. She felt that such acts were beyond her powers of judgment. 

The man's grief, his bitter, passionate resentment smote her beyond anysufferings she had ever known herself. Elvine absorbed all the angershe could bestow, but even so it was infinitesimal beside the harvestof grief which the sight of this man's suffering yielded her. That wasthe paramount emotion of the moment with her. That, and the injusticeshe deemed to have been meted out to him. 

It was not until the great crescendo of the man's storm of grief hadpassed that Nan bethought herself of the need in which he stood. Norwas that need apparent until his whole note had changed to a moodybitterness with which he regarded the future. Then she understood thedemon that was knocking at the door of his soul. 

Immediately her decision was taken. She left the two men together andwent to make the necessary preparations for this refugee'saccommodation. Curiously enough, these preparations were not completefor nearly an hour, at the time, in fact, that it was her father'shabit to seek his bed. 

When she returned to the parlor the place was full of the reek of Bud'stobacco, but it was only from the one pipe. Neither of the men weretalking when she entered the room, and her glance passed swiftly fromone to the other. 

She moved over to where Jeff was sitting with his back turned to her, and stood behind his chair. 

"Everything's fixed for you, Jeff, " she said. "But--but maybe youdon't feel like turning in yet. My Daddy usually goes at this time, and--he's had a hard day. "

Bud looked across at her. His pipe was removed from his mouth for thepurpose of protest. But the protest remained unspoken in face of themeaning he beheld in the girl's brown eyes. Instead he rose heavilyfrom his rocker. 

"Say, jest take your time, Jeff, boy, " he said. "Guess you'll need tothink hard before mornin'. I don't guess it's your way to jump atthings. I ain't never see you jump yet. Anyway, when you're thinkin', boy, it'll be best to remember that a woman's jest a woman, an' hernotions ain't allus our notions. "

Nan came over to him, and he rested one great arm about her shoulders, and stooped and kissed her. 

"Good-night, little gal, " he said. "Maybe Jeff'll excuse me. An'maybe you ken tell him some o' them things that don't come easy to me. So long, Jeff. I'll sure see you in the mornin' before you quit. "

He stood uncertainly for a moment with his arm upon Nan's shoulders. He seemed to want to say more, and was at a loss how to say it. Finally he stuck his pipe back into his mouth with a savage thrust andlumbered heavily from the room. 

Nan understood. She knew he was laboring under profound emotion, and afeeling of self-disgust at his own inability to help his partner andfriend. 

As the door closed she moved over to the table and leaned against it. Jeff's back was toward her, and his face was turned in the direction ofthe window, across which the curtains had not yet been drawn. 

He was leaning forward, his gaze intent and straight ahead out into theblack night beyond. His elbows were on his knees, and his hands wereclasped, and hanging between them. To the sympathetic heart of Nanthere was despair in every line of his attitude. She nerved herself tocarry out her decisions. 

"Jeff!"

There was no movement in response. But a reply came. It was in thetone of a man indifferent to everything but the thought teeming throughhis brain. 

"Well?"

"Why did you come around here--to-night?"

The question achieved its purpose. The man abandoned his attitude in amovement of fierce resentment. He swung round on the questioner, hiseyes hot with feeling. 

"Because I guess I need to sleep somewhere. Because nothing on earthcould make me share roof with the woman who's my wife. Gee, my wife!Say, Nan, the thought of it nearly sets me crazy. "

"Does it? You didn't feel that way--two nights ago. "

The man's eyes met the girl's incredulously. 

"How can you talk that way?" he demanded roughly. "I didn't know athing then. I thought she was all she seemed. Maybe I was just ablind fool, crazy with love. Anyway--I hadn't learned the hell lyingaround her heart. "

"I s'pose there is hell lying around her heart?"

Nan's words were provocative. Yet they were spoke in such a tone ofsimplicity as to rob them of all apparent intent. 

Jeff was in no mood for patience. Swift resentment followed upon hisincredulous stare. 

"Do you need me to give it you all again?" he cried fiercely. "Itdon't need savvee to grip things. " Then his voice rose. "And to thinkthose dollars have fed her, and clothed her, a body as fair as anangel's, and a heart as foul as hell. " Then his tone dropped as if hewere afraid of the sound of his own voice. "Say, thank God I kept myhands off her. If she'd been a man----"

He left his sentence unfinished. In her mind Nan completed it. Butaloud she gave it another ending. 

"If she'd been a man I don't guess she'd have been there to have youlay hands on her. "

There was a new note in the girl's tones. But it passed Jeff by. 

"No, " he said with almost foolish seriousness. 

"Say, Jeff, " the girl went on gently, a moment later, "aren't youacting a teeny bit crazy over this? I mean talking of souls foul ashell. And--an' not sharing the same roof with the woman you've swornto love, and--and cherish as long as you both live. She hasn't done athing wrong by you since you said--an' meant that. She hasn't done athing wrong anyway. "

The denial was so gentle yet so decided. Had there been heat in it itmust have been ineffective. As it was Jeff stared incredulously andspeechless, and the girl went on:

"You think I'm wrong, " she said. "Maybe you think I'm crazy, same as Iguess this thing's made you feel. " She shook her head. "I'mnot--sure. Take us here. Maybe I'm chasing around through the hills. Chance runs me plumb into the camp of these rustlers who're cuttinginto your profits on the Obar. I come right in and hand you the story. You and Bud round up a bunch of boys and I take you to where the camp'shidden. You hold 'em up, and you hang them. Well, I guess thepleasantest moment of that racket for you would be to get back to homeand hand me a bunch of dollars. Say, I can see you doing it. I cansee your smile. I can hear you sayin': 'Take 'em, little Nan, an' buyyourself some swell fixing. ' And say, Jeff, I wouldn't have done athing less than your Evie's done. That's how I'd say now, acting asyou are, you aren't the 'Honest Jeff' I've always known. You're notfair to Evie, you aren't just--before God. "

The man made a gesture of fierce impatience. He seemed on the verge ofa furious outburst. But the steady light of Nan's eyes was upon him. For some moments he gazed into their sweet depths, and their courage, their steadfastness, seemed to abash him. He flung out his arms in ahelpless gesture of appeal. 

"Nan, Nan!" he cried, in a voice of hopelessness. "I can't argue it. I just can't. I can't see things right. I sure nearly am crazed. Theonly thing I can see is the blood of poor Ronny on her--her hands. Thehands I've held in mine. The hands I've kissed. Oh, was there ever sofoul----"

"Yes, Jeff, there was. There is. "

Nan's voice was low but thrilling with deep feeling. She moved forwardfrom her place at the table with a little rush. The rustle of herskirts only ceased as she fell upon her knees at the man's side, andher warm brown hands clasped themselves upon the strong arm proppedupon his knee. 

"It's a far, far fouler thing, this thing you've got fixed in your mindto do. Oh, Jeff, dear, if I could speak the things as I feel them. But I can't. It's all inside me mussed up and maybe foolish. But, oh, I know I'm right I want to tell you something, and I don't just knowhow. "

Her eyes were gazing up into his, the soft brown eyes of the beautifulsoul within. She strove to compel his gaze, but it moodily withheldits regard. 

"Jeff, you'll kill poor Evie. You'll break her heart by robbing her ofall you've brought into her life through your love. Say, can't you seeit all? And you'll do it for a shadow. Yes, it's a shadow, an uglyshadow, this crazy thought of yours for a brother who was just alow-down cattle rustler, same as these toughs you're making a bid often thousand dollars to see hanged the same as he was. Think of it, Jeff. She's just a woman, weak and helpless, and you're going to robher of all that makes her life worth while. Would you act that way bya mother, or--or a sister? And she's your wife, Jeff, who's given youall a loving woman has to give. I could tell you of the things thismeans to you, and the schemes and plans you've sort of set your hearton, but I don't need to. I just want you to see what you're doing byher, and all the time she's done you no wrong. Do you get that, dear?Evie's never done you a wrong, and in return you're going to do all youknow to kill her heart dead. "

"Done me no wrong?" There was a desperate sort of sneer in the words. They were the words of a man who is robbed of denial but still protests. 

But Nan rejected even that. She swiftly flung it back in her sense ofthe injustice of it. 

"It's as I said, Jeff. Just as I said, " she declared solemnly. Shedrew a deep breath. She was about to take a plunge which might bearher she knew not whither. "Oh, I could get mad with you for that. Icould so, Jeff. I know the story of it. You've told it yourself, andI don't guess you've spared her any. But you're blinding yourselfbecause you're crazy to do so. You're blinding yourself to all senseof justice to defend a wretched scallawag who happened to be yourbrother. Say, you're trying to fix on your wife, the woman who lovesyou, and who you guess you love, all the dirt you should heap on theworthless man who lived by theft, and maybe, even, was a murderer. Say, don't speak. Not just a single word. Guess you can say all youneed when I'm through, " she cried, as the man, with eyes ablaze, soughtto break in. "When I'm through I'll listen. Say, bring this righthome here. We're being robbed by cattle thieves. I don't guessthey're better or worse than your brother. What if he'd been one ofthis gang? If you'd got this gang, with him in it? Would you've lethim go and hanged the others? Tell me. Tell me right here and now. "

The man sprang from his seat. He moved away to the window. 

"You're talking foolish, " he flung over his shoulder. "It's not theposition. My brother's deserts aren't in question. It's Evie's act. My wife's act. You're a woman and defend her. How could you beexpected to see a man's point of view?"

"There can be no man's point of view in it, " Nan cried warmly. "Iguess there's just one point. The point of right and justice. Injustice she's not done a thing to make you act this way. For yoursake, for hers, for the sake of justice you'll have to go back to her. "

The man swung round. 

"You'd have me go back to her?" he cried in fierce derision. "Say, you're crazy! Go back to her feeling as I do?"

"Feeling as you've no right to feel, " Nan retorted swiftly. Then in aflash her voice changed, dropping to a note of deep tenderness andsympathy. "Say, Jeff, won't you go back? Won't you?" she pleaded. "Think of all it means to her, to you. Think of a poor woman driven tothe depths of despair for a shadow you've nursed in your brain theseyears. That's what it comes to. I know. Oh, Jeff, as sure as ther'sjust a great big God above us you'll pay for it if you don't. Yousurely will. "

The man shifted his gaze. The lids of his eyes drooped and hid fromthe waiting girl all that passionate feeling he had not hesitated todisplay. She wondered as she waited. She was fearful, too. 

In the man every sort of emotion was surging through him in a chaotictangle. Nothing seemed clear; anger, revolting, even hatred, allfought for place. And through it all the pleading tones of the girlwould not be denied. 

After a moment he suddenly flung out his arms. 

"I--I just can't, Nan!" he cried desperately. 

A wave of relief swept through Nan's heart. He was yielding, and sheknew it. His manner had completely and abruptly changed. She drewnearer to him. Every honest art of persuasion was in her tendermanner. All self was forgotten in that moment of spiritual purpose. 

"But you can--if you will, " she said, her brown eyes uplifted to his. "There isn't a thing you can't do--and you will. And this is so small, Jeff. So small. Just think of that great big God somewhere up abovewaiting, waiting to help you. He's always waiting to help us--any ofus. Ask Him. Ask His help. He'll give it you. He surely will. AndHe can clear away all this dreadful feeling. It'll pass right awayeasy. I know. He's done things for me. You just can't guess howmuch. Say, Jeff, and when He's fixed you right, feeling that way, He'll show you, and tell you more. He'll show you that Evie's act wasnot hers, but--His. It was just His way of bringing Ronny's punishmentback to you. You see, Jeff, Ronny was part of you. You said so. Andoh, He's wiser than you an' me. And He figures this thing is best so. It's a little Cross, such a teeny one, He's set you to bear, and ifyou're the man I know and believe in, why, you'll just carry it withouta squeal. Then later you'll understand, and--you'll be real glad forit. Will you--will you go back to her--to-morrow, Jeff?"

Nan waited almost breathlessly. She was watching him with a gaze thatsearched every detail of his face. She saw the strong veins at histemples standing out, the usually clear eyes stained and bloodshot. She saw him raise one hand wearily to his forehead, and pass it backover his hair. She knew the movement so well. The sight of itthrilled her. There was little about him she did not know andunderstand. 

"You've made it seem I'll have to, Nan, " he said with desperatereluctance. 

For a moment a strange feeling of weakness came over the girl. But sheresolutely thrust it aside. 

"It's not me, Jeff, " she disclaimed. "You know it's not me. Andyou'll--promise?"

He nodded. 

"I'll go back to her, because--of you. "

A curious look of fear crept into the girl's eyes. 

"You'll go back, because--of her, " she persisted. 

The man shook his head. 

"Anyway--I'll go back. "

The words were roughly spoken. But Nan accepted them. It was all shecould hope for. And--well, she had done her best. 

She sighed deeply. She glanced about her. For a moment they dweltupon the man who was denied her. The man in whom she saw all thatcould ever make life worth while. 

"Good-night, Jeff. "

Her voice was very low and soft. 

"Good-night, Nan. " Then with a sudden outburst, as forceful as it wasspontaneous: "God, if the world were only made up of women like you!"

But the door had closed. And as Nan crept to her bedroom, unrestrainedtears coursed down her soft cheeks. The full force of the irony of itall was too great for her. He was going back to Elvine, and--she hadsent him. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE BARRIER

Jeff was abroad at daylight. Even Bud, whose habit was sunrise, had notyet wakened from his heavy slumbers. But Nan was stirring. She heardJeff moving, and she saw him beyond her window. She saw him bring hishorse from the barn, saddled and bridled. In a moment he had mounted andridden away. Then she dressed, and, for the rest, wondered at thepossible outcome of it all. Half an hour later the sun rose and theday's work began. 

When Jeff reached his home it was still wrapped in the habit of night. There was no one and nothing stirring, for, as yet, only the golden glowof the eastern sky promised the coming of day. 

His mood was bitter. But his purpose was calculated and deliberate. Hehad given his promise in answer to Nan's irresistible pleading. Butotherwise the man was completely unchanged. He moved away down to thecorrals, and leaned against the great lateral rails which closed theentrance. The beasts within were chewing the cud, and still picking atthe remains of their overnight feed. 

They were a goodly sight to eyes that understood the meaning of suchthings. It was only one of a number of corrals similarly crowded withbeasts, that were, for various reasons, herded in shelter at night. These were a few, a very few of the vast numbers which bore the familiar"O----" brand. There were the outlying stations which harbored theirhundreds. There were the pastures with their complement of breedingcows. Then there were the herds of two- and three-year-olds roaming theplains at their will, fattening for the buyers who came at intervals. 

Thoughts of these things compelled Jeff now. And he saw what Nan hadsaved him from. Wreck had been threatening in the course he had markedout for himself at first. How could prosperity have maintained under theconditions he would have imposed? Even now, under the modification whichNan had appealed for, he failed to see the continuation of that successhe had striven so hard for. The incentive was no longer in him, he toldhimself. Where lay the use, the purpose in it all? The future? Thatdream future which had come to him could never mature now. It was nolonger a dream. It was nightmare. 

He wondered why he had yielded to Nan's entreaty. It all seemed sopurposeless now in the broad light of day. He could force himself tolive with his wife--under the same roof. Perhaps in time he could evenmeet her in daily intercourse. She might even become a factor in thegreat work of the Obar. But the joy of achievement had been snatchedfrom him. All that he had foreseen might be achieved in the work, even. But the process would have been completely robbed of its inspiration, andwas therefore not to be counted worth while. 

The thought of the woman's regard for him left him cold. He dwelt uponit. Suddenly he wondered. Two days ago he could not have thought of itwithout a thrill. Now it meant--nothing. He remembered Nan's appeal. Why--why had it affected him last night? It had not been becauseof--Evie. 

Nan had talked of justice--duty. He could see no appeal in either now. Why should he be forced to observance of the laws of justice, or--dutytoward a woman who----?

He stirred restlessly. His attention was drawn to his horse. He movedover to it and off-saddled. Then he returned to his place at the corral. The sun was just breaking the horizon. He heard sounds of life comingfrom the bunkhouse. 

Nan's appeal no longer convinced him--now that he was away from her. But--he had pledged his word. He could not break his word to Nan, although he longed--madly longed to resaddle his horse and ride away, andleave behind him forever this place which had suddenly become so full ofbitter memories. No--he had pledged his word. 

Soon he must once more confront his wife. He reviewed the possibilities. The night long he had spent in considering the position he intended toplace before her. Would she accept it? And--what then? The long daysof work, unlit by any hope of the future. The process of building, building, which all men desire, without that spark of delight whichinspires the desire. Just the drudgery of it. The resulting wealth andcommercial power of it maybe, but not one moment of the joy with whichonly two days before he had regarded the broad vista of the future. 

Now the smell of cooking reached him from the bunkhouse. Several menwere moving down toward the corrals. He passed on toward the house. Amoment or so later he stood on the veranda gazing out at the streamingcattle as they moved toward the wide home pastures, under the practisedhands of the ranchmen. It was a sight to inspire any cattleman, and, fora moment, the brooding eyes of the master of it all lit with a flash oftheir former appreciation. But the change was fleeting. The blue depthsclouded again. The question once more flashed through hisbrain--what--what was the use of it all?

None, none at all. Every dream had been swept from his waking thoughts. Every enchanting emotion was completely dead. The woman who had inspiredthe rose-tinted glasses through which he had gazed upon the future nolonger had power so to inspire him. By her own action she had takenherself out of his life. She could never again become a part of it. Hewould live on with her, under the same roof, a mockery of the life whichtheir marriage imposed upon them. He had pledged that to Nan, and hewould not break his word to--Nan. But love? His love was gone. It wasdead. And he knew that the ashes of that once passionate fire couldnever be stirred into being again. 

There was a rustle of skirts behind him. He heard, but did not turn. Afierce passion was rising to his brain, and he dared not turn until hehad forced it under restraint. 

"You have come back, Jeff?"

The voice was low and soft. There was something tragically humble in itstone. 

The man turned. 

"Yes, Evie. " Then he added: "I told you I would. "

His voice was gentler than he knew. The harshness of their previousmeeting had gone out of it. Nor was he aware of the change, nor of thereason, although in his mind was the memory of his promise to Nan. 

"And you'll tell me your decision--now?"

The humility was heart-breaking. Nor was the man unaffected by it. Helooked into the beautiful face, for the dark eyes were averted. Then hisgaze dropped to the charming figure daintily clad in a simple morningfrock of subtle attraction. But his eyes came back to the face with itscrowning of beautiful dark hair, nor was there any change in theirexpression as a result of their survey. 

"As well now as later. "

"What is it?"

For the first time Jeff found himself gazing into the wide dark eyes. There was pain in them. Apprehension. There were the signs about themof long sleepless nights. He shut the sight of these things out by theprocess of turning away to observe the general movement going on in thenear distance. 

"Guess there's no use to say a deal, " he said, a curiously moody notetaking possession of his voice. "If I did, why, I'd likely say a wholeheap more than a man may say to his wife. Guess the right an' wrong ofthings had best lie in our hearts. You know just what you did, and whyyou did it. I know what you did, an' can only guess why you did it. Idon't figger any talk could convince either of us different to how wethink and feel. Maybe there's Someone knows the rights of this thingbetter than either of us. That being so, I allow He'll ultimately fixthings as He intends. Meanwhile it's for us to do as we feel, just sofar as our personal earthly concerns go. "

The coldness in his voice had grown, and it left Evie with a completesense of hopelessness that was harder to bear than any fears whichviolence of language might have inspired. 

His pause was prolonged. She made no effort to break it, she dared notbreak it. For the man, he was gathering the threads of what he had tosay so as to deliver it concretely. He feared to prolong this interview. In view of his decision he must not risk any violent outbreak such as hisfeelings were even now striving to force upon him. 

"Maybe you'll remember what I said to you about Ronny just after wewere--married. I don't guess you'll have forgotten, seeing things are asthey are. What I said then stands now. If you'd been a man I'd haveshot you down in your tracks when I got to home last night. That shouldsay all that need be said about how I'm feeling now. You aren't a man, and you're my wife. Well--you're still my wife. That means it's up tome to keep you as though this thing hadn't broken things up. I intend toact as right as I can by you. This is your home. You must use it, ifyou feel that way. The Obar has to go on. It's your means of living. It's my means of living. Then there are others concerned in it. Forthese reasons I shall carry on things, and your knowledge of this sort ofwork should hand you a reasonable share in the running of this place. Ifyou feel you can act this way, without remembering we're man and wife, why, I guess we can agree to live our--separate--lives under the sameroof. If you don't feel you can do this, why, you need to say so righthere an' now, an' state your wishes. I'll do my best to carry themthrough, provided you understand our lives are separate from now on. Doyou get that?"

Did she get it? Could there be any mistaking those cold tones, thatruthless decision?

From slightly behind him Elvine had stood watching with straining eyesthe still figure, speaking with so obvious a repression of feeling, hiseyes steadily fixed upon the distant horizon. Once or twice an ominousflush had suddenly flamed up in her eyes. A deep flush had stained hercheeks. But as he ceased speaking the same shrinking, the same humilitymarked her attitude. She knew instinctively she dared not say the thingsshe was yearning to pour out. She knew instinctively that any suchcourse would at once break down that thin veneer of restraint he wasexercising. And for perhaps the first time in her life she stood awedand cowed by a man. 

But this woman was the slave of her passions, and she knew it. It wasthis now that made a coward of her. With all the power of self in hershe had abandoned herself to her love for her husband. And, with slavishsubmission, she was prepared to accept his words rather than banishherself out of his presence altogether. A mad, wild hope lay somewheredeep down in her heart that some day he could be made to forget. Thatsome day, through what looked to her like endless days of devotion andhelp, she might win back something of what she had lost. She knew herown attraction. She knew her own powers. Might there not then be hopein the dim future?

She had no pride where Jeff was concerned. She wanted him. His love wasall life to her now. If she had followed the natural course which shouldhave been hers and refused his proposal, she would have been closing thedoor, finally, upon all that made life possible. If she submitted therestill remained to her the vaguest possible shadow of hope. This was herthought and motive in the crisis with which she was faced, and hercalculations were made out of her yearning, and without trueunderstanding of the man with whom she was dealing. 

Jeff awaited her decision under an enforced calm. 

"It's for you to say, " she said, after some moments. "Nor is the choicemine. I shall obey. You've said I can help in the work. Maybe it's myright. I'll claim that right anyway. It's the only right I'll claim. I've only one other thing to say, and maybe you'll let me speak it thisonce. "

"Go on. "

"I didn't guess I was doing wrong. I don't know now I did wrong. Anyway, if what I did was wrong it's against God's laws and not man's. Maybe you've a right to punish me. I don't know. Anyway, my life andinterests are bound to yours, and I want you to know every effort of minewill be to further--your interests. This has made no change in me--thatway. You can trust me as you'd trust yourself. I'm not here to squealfor any mercy from you, Jeff. And maybe some day you'll--understand. Iguess your breakfast's ready. I'll have mine later. "

 * * * * * *

Later in the day Elvine rode out from the ranch house. Nor did sheconcern herself with her object, nor her course, beyond a wild desire forthe solitude of the hills. The full torture of the new life, on thethreshold of which she now stood, had not come upon her until after theeffects of her interview with her husband had had time to calm down. Then to remain in the house, which had become a sort of prison to her, was made impossible. She must get out. She must break into activity. She felt that occupation alone could save her reason. 

So she struck out for the hills. Their claim of earlier days was uponher. The hills, and their wooded valleys. Their brooding calm, theirdark shadows, their mysterious silence. These things claimed her mood. 

She rode recklessly across the wide spread of Rainbow-Hill Valley. Shehad no thought for the horse under her. She would have welcomed thepitfalls which mighty have robbed her of the dreadful consciousness ofthe disaster which had overwhelmed her. She was striving to flee fromthoughts from which she knew there was no escape. She was striving tolose herself in the activities of the moment. 

The switchback of the plain rose and fell under her horse's busy hoofs. It rose higher, and ever higher, as she approached the western slopes. She left the fenced pastures behind her, and the last signs of the lifeto which she was now committed. Before her the woodlands rose upshrouded in their dark foliage. The mourning aspect of the pines suitedher temper; she felt as though their drooping boughs were in harmony withthe bereavement of her soul. 

She plunged amidst the serried aisles of leafless trunks with somethinglike welcome for their shadows. She rode on regardless of distance anddirection. 

From the crest of a hill she looked down upon narrow mountain creeksurging between borders of pale green foliage. The sound of the waterscame up to her, and the wilderness of it all appealed, as, at thatmoment, nothing else could have appealed. She pressed her blowing horseforward, and rode down to the banks so densely overgrown. 

She leaped from the saddle. She relieved her horse of its saddle andflung herself upon the mossy ground in the shelter of a cluster ofspruce. The humid heat was oppressive. The tumbling waters were unableto stir the atmosphere. But their music was soothing, and the sight oftheir turbulent rush seemed to hold sympathy for her troubled heart. Andso she lay there, her head propped upon a supporting hand, and yieldedherself to the sway of her emotions. 

After a while tears dimmed her eyes. They overflowed down her cheeks. She had reached the end of endurance before yielding to her woman'spitiful weakness. Time had no meaning now. Place had lost itsinfluence. She saw nothing, knew nothing but the trouble which hadrobbed her of all she lived for. 

Then came the inevitable. Her tears eventually relaxed the tension ofher nerves, and, after several ineffectual attempts to keep them open, the weight of the atmosphere closed her eyes and yielded her the finalmercy of sleep. 

 * * * * * *

Elvine awoke with a start. She awoke with the conviction of the presenceof the man she had met in the hill regions before. She knew some one wasnear her, but, for the moment----

Yes. She sat up. A pair of brown eyes were gazing down into hers. Thencame the voice, and it was low, and gentle. It had nothing startling init. 

"Why, say, an' I've been hunting your trail this hour, taking youfor--some one else. "

Nan had been standing with her arm linked through her horse's reins. Nowshe relinquished them, and flung herself upon the ground before thestartled woman. 

Elvine stared at her with unease in her dark eyes. Nor did she gainreassurance from the pretty face with its soft brown hair, and thegraceful figure beneath its brown cloth riding suit. Yet she was notinsensible to the companionship. Her greater fears had been of the man, Sikkem, who had been in her waking thoughts. 

"You were following my tracks?" she demanded uncertainly. 

Nan's eyes grew grave. 

"I certainly was. Though I didn't guess they were yours. Say, you musthave crossed the tracks I was following, " she added thoughtfully. "Didyou see anybody? Four fellers? Mighty tough-looking citizens, an'strangers?"

The frankness of the girl reestablished confidence. 

Elvine sat up. 

"No, " she said. Then the wonder of it possessed her. "But you--youalone were following on the tracks of four tough strangers?" she criedincredulously. 

Nan smiled. Her smile was pretty. It was a confident, wise little smile. 

"Sure, " she said. "I saw them, and it was up to me. You see, Evie, wefolks out here kind of need to think diff'rent. A girl can't just helpbeing a girl, but when rustlers are around, raising small Cain with hermen-folks' goods, why, she's got to act the way they would when theylight on a suspicious trail. I was guessing that track would lead mesomewhere. But, " she added with a grimace, "I wasn't as smart as Ifiggered. You must have crossed it, an' I lost 'em. "

"But can't you get back to it? Maybe I can help some. I've followed atrail before, " Elvine added, in a tone which Nan understood better thanthe other knew. 

But the girl shook her head. 

"My plug is tired, and there's the chase back to home. I guess we'llleave 'em, and just--report. But there's something doing. I meansomething queer. These folk don't reckon to show themselves in daytime, and I guess they were traveling from the direction of Spruce Crossing. "

"That's where the man Sikkem's stationed, " said Elvine. 

"Sure. But I don't guess they been near his shanty. They wouldn't fancygettin' around Sikkem's lay-out in daytime. You see, he's--sudden. "

Nan's confidence was not without its effect. But Elvine was less sure. 

"This Sikkem. I don't like him. But----"

Nan dismissed the matter in her own way. 

"Sikkem's been on the ranch nigh three years. He's a cattleman first, and hates rustlers worse than poison. But he's tough. Oh, he's tough, all right. I wouldn't gamble a pea-shuck he hasn't quite a dandy bunchof notches on his gun. But we're used to his sort. "

Then she went on in a reflective fashion as though hollowing out a trainof thought inspired by the man under discussion:

"Sort o' seems queer the way we see things. Right here on the prairie wemostly take folks on trust, an' treat 'em as we find 'em. Maybe they'rewanted for all sorts of crimes. Maybe they done a turn in penitentiary. Maybe they even shot up folk cold. These things don't signify a centwith us so they handle cattle right, and are ready to push lead into anybunch of rustlers lyin' around. Guess it's environment makes us thatway. The prairie's so mighty wide it helps us folks to get wide. "

Evie was watching the play of the girl's expressive eyes. 

"I wonder--if you're right. "

"Mostly, I guess. "

"Mostly?"

Nan nodded. 

"It isn't easy to condemn amongst folks on the prairie, " she said with asigh. 

Elvine shook her head. Her eyes were turned from the girl. They werestaring down into the turbulent stream. 

"I don't think I've found it that way. "

"How?"

The interrogation was natural. But it brought Elvine's eyes sharply tothe girl's, and, for a moment, they gazed steadily into each other's. 

Then the woman's graceful shoulders went up. 

"I see you know. "

"And--you aren't mad with me for knowing? You aren't mad with Jeff forme knowing? I wanted you to know I knew. I wanted to tell you I knew, only I didn't just know how to tell you. Then I wanted to tellyou--something else. "

There was simple sincerity in every word the girl spoke. The light inher eyes was shining with truth. Elvine saw it, and knew these thingswere so, and, in her loneliness of heart, in her brokenness of spirit, she welcomed the chance of leaning for support upon a soul so obviouslystrong and sympathetic. She yielded now as she would never have believedit possible to yield. 

Suddenly she raised her hands to her head and pressed her fingers to hertemples. 

"Oh, I--I don't know what to do. I sort of feel I just can't--can't stoparound. And yet---- Oh, I love him so I can't, daren't leave himaltogether. You can't understand, child, no one can. You--oh, you'venever known what love is, my dear. I'm mad--mad for him. And--and I cannever come into his life again. "

She dropped her hands from her head in a movement that to Nan seemed asthough she were wringing them. Nan's own heart was thumping in herbosom. She, too, could have cried out. But her eyes steadily, andalmost tenderly, regarded the woman who had taken Jeff from her. 

"You must stop around, " she said in a low, firm tone. "Say, Evie, Idon't guess I'm bright, or clever, or anything like that. I don't reckonI know things different to other folk. But just think how it would be ifyou went away now. You'd never see Jeff again, maybe, and he'd neverknow just how you love him. You see, men-folk are so queer, too. MaybeJeff's right, and you and me are wrong. Maybe we're right, and he's allwrong. I can't say. But I tell you Jeff needs you now--more than ever. He don't know it, maybe. But he wants you, and if you love him you'lljust--stand by. Oh, I could tell you of a thousand ways you can helphim. A thousand ways you can show him your love without telling him. Itmeans a hard fight for you. I know. And maybe you'll think he isn'tworth it. But he is--to you. You love him. And any man a woman lovesis worth to her every sacrifice she can make. I don't know. Maybe yougot to be punished, not by us folk, not for what you done to Jeff. ButSomeone guesses you got to be punished, and this is the way He's fixedit. Say, Evie, you won't let go of things, will you? Maybe you can'tsee ahead just now. But you will--later. You love Jeff, and he justloves you, though he's sort of blind to it now. But he loves you, an' noone else. He wouldn't act the way he's doing if it weren't so. I sortof felt I must say all this to you. I--I don't know why--just. But Iwon't ever talk like this again. I haven't a right, I know. But I don'tmean harm. I don't sure. And if you'll let me help you anyway I canI'll--be real glad. "

CHAPTER XXII

THREATENINGS

The offer of reward for the rustlers operating in Rainbow Hill Valleywas without the desired effect. It was worse. The men against whom itwas directed received it with deliberate but secretly expressedcontempt. Nor did Chance serve the masters of the Obar, as four yearsbefore She had served Dug McFarlane. 

Nor was the failure due to lack of effort. Bud left no stone unturned. And Jeff--well, Jeff did all a man could. The hills were scoured, andthe deeps and hidden hollows of the greater foothills. The notices ofreward were sent broadcast, even penetrating to the Orrville country. They were set up as Jeff had promised, on tree trunks in the remoterhills where any chance eye might discover them. Where undoubtedly themen who constituted the gang must sooner or later discover them. 

The only response was a continuation of the raids. 

But a distinct change had taken place in the method of these. Whereas, originally, they had been directed against not only the Obar Ranch, butwherever opportunity offered in the district, they now fastened theirvampire clutches upon the Obar only, and, finally, on only one sectionof its territory: the land which belonged to Jeff's side of thepartnership. 

So marked was this that it could not be missed. 

The partners were out at a distant station where they had been urgentlysummoned. A young "hand" had been wounded, a nasty flesh wound in thearm. He had been bringing in a small bunch of steers which had strayedto a distant hollow in the hills. It had been overnight. He was heldup, and shot by three outlaws, and his cattle run off. 

It was Bud who voiced the thought of both partners immediately after aclose interrogation of the injured man. 

"Looks like some low-bred son-of-a-hobo owes you a reckonin' he'syearnin' to git quit of, Jeff, " he said, the moment they were alone. "They're workin' this way all the time. They ain't so much as smeltaround the old 'T. T. ' territory in days. D'you make it that way?"

Jeff nodded. 

"Sure. "

But he made no attempt to throw enlightenment. 

"Guess you signed the reward. "

Bud watched the shadowed serious face of his friend. 

"Maybe it's that. " There was something like indifference in theyounger man's manner. 

Perhaps it was this manner which stirred Bud's impatience and drove himto resentment. 

"Say, " he cried, in fiercely vibrant tones, "d'you know what it is Igot in my head? It's the 'hands' on our range. Sure. Ther's somelousy guy on the Obar working in with the gang. Cowpunchers are amongrel lot anyway. Ther' ain't one but 'ud souse the sacrament wineef the passon wa'an't lookin' on. I guess we'll need to chase up thepenitentiary re-cord of every blamed thief on our pay-roll. Maybe thecinch we're lookin' fer lies that way. "

"It's curious. "

"Curious? Gee, it's rotten!"

The old man's patience completely gave way. 

"See right here, Jeff. I ain't rattled. Not a thing. But ther's gotto be some guts put into this thing, an' you an' me's got to find 'em. See? I'm sick to death. Right here an' now I tell you ther's goin' tobe a rotten piece of trouble around this lay-out, an' I'm goin' to bein it--right up to my back teeth. "

It was perhaps the first time Bud had displayed impatience with the manwho had always been the leading spirit of their enterprise. The truthwas, something seemed to have gone out of Jeff. He neglected nothing. He spared himself no pains. His physical efforts seemed even to havebecome greater as the days passed. Frequently, now, night as well asday found him in the saddle watching over their interests. He hadbecome a sort of restless spirit urging forward the work, and watching, watching with the lynx eyes dreaded so much by the men who served him. But for all that something had certainly gone out of him, and Bud knewand feared its going. 

If Bud knew and feared the change, he also knew the cause of it. Neither he nor Nan were blind to the drama silently working out in theother household. It was bitterly plain and almost heart-breaking tothe onlookers. The same roof sheltered husband and wife. But nounnecessary word was spoken between them. Their meals were takenapart. They were as completely and coldly separate as though theyoccupied opposite poles. And the girl who recognized these things, andthe man who watched them, only wondered how long it must be before thefinal disaster came upon them. 

Jeff's moods had become extraordinarily variable. There were momentswhen his moroseness became threatening. The canker at his heart wascommunicating itself to his whole outlook, and herein lay the failurein his work. 

It was the realization of all this which stirred Bud's impatience. Heknew that unless a radical change was quickly brought about, thevaunted Obar had certainly reached and probably passed its zenith. 

Finally, he opened his heart to the sure sympathy of Nan. He hadpurposely taken her with him on a boundary inspection amongst thefoothills. They were riding through a silent hollow where quiet seemedto lie on the top of everything. Even their horses' hoofs failed tomake an impression upon it. Peace was crowding the woodland slopes, apeace profound and unbreakable. 

"The Obar's struck a mighty bad patch, Nan, " he said abruptly. "Efthings kep hittin' their present gait, why, I don't jest see wher'we're to strike bottom. The pinch ain't yet, but you can't never kickout a prop without shakin' the whole darned buildin' mighty bad. An'that's how the Obar's fixed. Ther's a mighty big punch gone plumb outo' Jeff's fight, an', well, I guess we're needin' all our punch to fixthe things crowdin' around us. "

"You mean the rustlers?" Nan drove to the heart things withouthesitation. 

"Sure. Them an'--other things. "

The girl nodded. She knew the other things without asking. 

"Jeff's in a heap of--trouble, " she said with a sigh. 

"An' looks like carryin' us along with him--ef we ain't watchin'around. "

"We've always kind of leaned on Jeff. "

"Most folks are ready to lean, Nan. It sort o' saves 'em a deal oftrouble. "

"Yes. Till you kick the prop away. "

"Sure. Our prop's been kicked away, an' we've jest got to git right upon to our hind legs an'--git busy. The leanin' racket's played out ferus. We got to hand Jeff a prop now, an' see it don't git kicked away. See?"

For some moments the girl's gaze searched straight ahead of her downthe valley. And into her eyes there grew a gentle light of enthusiasm. Suddenly she turned upon the great figure on its horse beside her. 

"We've stood up on our own years, Daddy--before Jeff came along. Wecan stand now, can't we? I guess we're not going to fail Jeff now he'sin trouble. Jeff's been all for us. We're going to be all for him. He needs us, Daddy, and--I'm glad in a way. Say, my heart nigh breaksevery time I peek into his poor sad an' troubled face. Jeff's justbeating his soul dead. And if the Obar gets wrong, it'll sure be theend of everything for him. It mustn't, Daddy. Things mustn't gowrong. 'Deed they mustn't. It's up to us. You must show me how, Daddy. You're wise to it all. You're strong. You know. Show me. Put me wise, an' I'll--take Jeff's place. "

The girl's words came full of a passionate sincerity. There were nohalf measures in this child of the prairie. Her love was given, awealth of generous feeling and loyal self-sacrifice. Her father readwith a rare understanding. And in his big heart, so rough, so warm, hecursed with every forceful epithet of his vocabulary the folly of theman he had marked out for a son. 

"We'll make good, or--bust, " he said, with a warmth that almost matchedthe girl's. 

Then he pointed ahead where the hollow opened out, and a large clump oftrees marked dividing ways. 

"I guessed you'd best see this. It's one o' them notions o' Jeff's. That play ain't worth a cent. "

"Ah!"

They rode up to the bluff in silence. And after a moment's search Buddrew rein before a heavy tree trunk, to which was secured a printedsheet. He pointed at it, and, for a while, neither spoke. Nan wastaking in the disfigurements with which it was covered, and she readthe words written across it in bold but illiterate characters:

"We're wise to her. She don't git no second chanst. "

The rest of the disfigurings were mischievous, and of almost indecentcharacter. 

"Does Jeff know?" Nan's question was almost a whisper. 

"I ain't told him. "

Bud's reply was one of doubt. 

"He--he ought to be told. "

Then Bud suddenly abandoned the restraint he had been exercising. 

"Oh ----! Ther' ain't no use. He can't do a thing. He wouldn't do athing. I tell you we're jest suckin'-kids in this racket. We got tolie around crazy enough to fancy we're goin' to git the drop on thesebums. What a country! What a cuss of a lay-out wher' you got to setaround watching a darnation gang o' toughs whittlin' away your worktill they got you beat to a mush. Here, I'm goin' to start right in. I'm goin' to get around Calthorpe. The sheriff's got to git busy, an'earn his monthly pay check. We'll hev to raise vigilantes. I tell youthey'll break us else. Ef Jeff can't see, why, he'll hev to be madeto. Blast their louse-bound souls to hell!"

And Nan welcomed the outburst. Rough, coarse, violent. It did notmatter. What mattered to her was the purpose. The purpose which shehoped and prayed would help Jeff. She had no thought for themselves. Their end of the enterprise never came into her considerations. Shewas thinking of Jeff. Solely of Jeff--the man she loved better thanher life. 

 * * * * * *

The change in Elvine was no less marked than it was in Jeff. But itwas a change in a wholly different direction. She was deeply subdued, even submissive in her attitude. But now after the first crisis andits accompanying pain, a general relief was apparent. A relief whichanything but indicated the hopelessness which had at the firstoverwhelmed her. She was not hopeless. Therein lay the key of thematter. 

From the time when she had passed through those moments of frenzieddespair, after Jeff's return from Orrville, her decision had been takenwith lightning celerity. Her back was to the wall, and she meant tofight for all she yearned, desired, by every art she possessed. Sheknew nothing of the reason which had made her husband return to her. It was sufficient that he had done so. It gave her the vague, wildhope she needed, and with all her might she intended to set herself tothe task of winning back her position in his regard. 

She was not logical. Had she been, she must have accepted thealternative of freedom offered her, and, on a liberal allowance, betaken herself to some selfish, worldly life which might have appealedto her. No, she was not logical. Had she been, she would never haveloved this man as she now knew better than ever she loved him. She wasnot logical, but she had courage. It was the same courage which haddriven her to fight for that which she had desired years ago. She wasgoing to fight now. And again it was for selfish motives. Only thistime they took the form of the love of the man she| had married. 

She set to work from the very start. Her attractions she knew weregreat. Jeff must be made to realize them. He must be made to realizeall a woman could mean in this life which was theirs. She wouldunobtrusively study his interests to the last degree. His position inthe ranching world would give her ample scope in this. Then there wasthe work of the ranch. Here her earlier experiences would help hermaterially. 

So she laid for herself a deliberate campaign. Always counting thathis lightest command was her law, and nothing must be permitted todisplay her desire to break down the barrier he had set up between them. 

Two days of deep consideration showed her her course. And once havingmarked it out she set about following it. 

Her house was her first care. It must be ordered as no other house ofits kind was ordered. She thought of every expressed wish of hisduring their brief engagement and honeymoon, and sorted it into itsplace in scheme. 

Then came her place in the work of the range. This was more difficultto take at once by reason of lack of precedent. But by tactfulwatchfulness she felt it could be accomplished. Her first step must beto impress on Lal Hobhouse her intention, and, in this, even soonerthan she had dared to hope, she managed to secure a footing. Once hermind was set to achieve a purpose her capacity was beyond all question, and in these troublous times of rustlers the foreman was more thancontent to welcome her aid. 

Throughout these days she rarely obtruded herself upon the man shedesired most in the world. He might almost have been non-existent. The rare moments in which he spoke to her were met with a cool reserveon her part, which left nothing to be desired, and gave no opportunityfor the reopening of those matters which had brought about theposition. Indeed, Elvine had more than reason to be satisfied with herwork. 

She felt at last that the worst was over, and now it remained for herto win back, step by step, the lost ground, until she had restoredherself to her position. It could be done. It should be done, shetold herself. She admitted no crime against him. Then where was thejustice of it? Anyway, that fierce dread was off her mind. She knewthe worst now. She no longer stood on the brink of an abyss ofdoubt----

She was in her bedroom considering these things. It was a goldenevening and the setting sun was shining athwart her windows. Quitesuddenly the simple sewing in her fingers dropped upon her lap, and herstartled eyes turned upon the wide view of the valley bathed in theperfect evening light. 

Was she no longer standing upon that brink? The question flashedthrough her mind as she remembered an incident until then completelylost in the greater issues. It was the threat of that scrawled notewhich had been flung in at that very window. She even remembered thesensation of the blow which had awakened her on the night of tortureduring which she had waited for Jeff's return from Orrville. 

She sprang to her feet. Every other thought was swept from her mind. And, for a moment, fresh panic stirred her veins. The words of thatmessage. They were unforgettable. 

"You sold the lives of men for a price. You had your way then. We'regoin' to have our way now. You'll pay for that deal the only way weknow. "

The only way we know! Her memory flew to the man Sikkem. Oh, she knewhim. She had recognized him on the instant of their meeting. She knewhe came from Orrville. She had seen him there. But---- Was he one ofthe original Orrville gang, all unsuspected, or, at least, if notunsuspected, _unknown_ to be?

While she pondered the subject she heard her husband's arrival. Sheheard him cross the veranda and, pass into the house. 

Then again she took up the thread of her thought. This man Sikkem. Ifhe were one of the Orrville gang, what was more likely than that heshould have sent that threat? If he sent it, what more likely thanthat he was one of the gang of rustlers operating here? If he were oneof them, then what added significance did it give threat?

A wave of sudden excitement replaced the panic of a moment before. "The only way we know. " Did that mean raiding her husband's stock andendeavoring so to ruin the Obar? It looked like it. It would accountfor what was being done. But no. That might be part of what wascontained in the threat. But not all. The only way we know! The onlyway this class of man understood paying off a score was different fromthat. With these men it was always a life for a life. Whose? Hers?It might be. 

The sun had sunk beyond the mountain peaks. In the adjoiningliving-room she heard the clatter of supper things. Jeff was havinghis meal in the solitude which had become their habit. 

If it were her life they intended it would not much matter. But wasit? Would they punish her that way? To her it did not suggest therefinement of cruelty which would appeal to them. No, there were othersigns. Their purpose looked to be to ruin the Obar, and then--whatthen? Rob her of the man she loved? It could be done. It would beeasy, and surely the refinement of it would appeal to natures soruthless. 

Her sewing had dropped to the floor. Mechanically she picked it up. Then and there she purposed to break in upon her husband's meal. Butshe hesitated, and the impulse passed. Instead, she went to a drawerin her bureau and withdrew the folded paper. She read it over andreturned to her seat. Decision was lacking. Her interpretation of thethreat had taken strong hold upon her, but she could not decide whatbest to do. Her fine eyes were troubled as she gazed out into thegrowing dusk. Dared she go to him? Would he listen?

But once more her thoughts were diverted. The sound of a great clatterof hoofs reached her from the other side of the house. Some one hadridden up to the veranda at a great pace. Who? And what could theurgency be at such an hour?

She heard Jeff moving in the living-room. She heard him pass out on tothe veranda. Then curiosity, perhaps apprehension, urged her. Shepassed to the window beyond her bureau, which was near the angle of thebuilding, and leaned out of it. Ordinary tones on the veranda wouldreach her there. 

She waited, breathing lightly lest her hearing should be impaired. Astrange voice was talking. She could not place it. It was rough, andthe language was rough. No doubt it was one of the "hands" from someoutlying point. 

"They got him through the chest, an' I guess he's goin' to pass in. Hesez to me, 'Ride like hell an' fetch the boss. Tell him I got 'emplumb wher' he wants 'em. I located their lay-out. I ain't got abovean hour or so to tell him in. Just hike an' ride like ----!'"

Then came Jeff's voice cold and undisturbed. 

"Where is he?"

"Why, by his shack at Spruce Crossing. He jest got in, an' nigh fellplumb in his tracks out o' the saddle. I don't guess any feller butSikkem could ha' done it. He's tough--mighty tough. "

Sikkem! Elvine moved from the window. Sikkem! Her heart was poundingin her bosom, and, for a moment, her brain seemed in a whirl. Sikkemhad discovered the raiders and was willing to give them away. In aflash she was back in Orrville, and her mind was searching amongstshadowy memories that had suddenly become acute. Sikkem! Sikkem! No. She must see Jeff. She must tell him of--Sikkem. She must warn him, and show him her note. A sudden, crushing foreboding descended uponher, and she hurried toward the door. 

In a few seconds she was on the veranda confronting her husband. For amoment her courage well-nigh failed her. Jeff was standing with hisback turned toward the sunset. The ranchman was no longer there. Hehad gone to the barn to order a fresh saddle horse for the master ofthe Obar. Apparently Jeff had turned to repass into the house. 

His fair strong face, serious and cold, was turned directly upon thebeautiful figure of his wife, and it was the coldness of it thatdaunted her now. 

"Well?"

The bitterness of that frigid, surprised inquiry was crushing. Elvinelooked into his eyes for one single shadow of softening. She couldfind none. It shocked the hope she had been steadily building in herheart. 

She had no words in which to answer. She stood thus for one uncertainmoment. Then she thrust out her hand. It contained the threateningmessage. 

"Will you read that--at once?"

His cold regard dropped from her face. The man noted the dirty paperin her soft white hand. Then he took it. Nor did their hands comeinto contact. 

"Is it a matter of importance?"

Elvine could have cried out with the stab of the question. Only somematter of vital importance justified her action in his eyes. Her gazewas averted to hide her pain. 

"I should not have come to you otherwise. "

The man moved to the edge of the veranda to obtain more of the dyinglight. At that moment the ranchman approached with two saddle horses. Elvine scrutinized him carefully. He was a complete stranger to her. 

Jeff had read the note. He stood regarding the ranchman. Suddenly hisvoice broke sharply. 

"Leave my horse at the tying post. Wait for me at the barn. "

He watched the man secure his horse. Then he watched him return to thebarn. Nor did he speak again till he was out of earshot. 

At last he turned back to the waiting woman. 

"Who sent this? When did you get it? How?" The questions camerapidly. 

"It came the night you were at Orrville. It was flung in through theopen window late at night. I'd fallen asleep in my chair--waiting. Ithit me on the face. They'd made it fast around a grass-tuft. "

"Who sent it?"

"It must have been the man, Sikkem, who's just sent in word to youhe's--shot up. "

"Sikkem? Why?"

Suddenly the restraint Elvine was exercising gave way. Even herhusband's deliberate coldness was powerless to stem the tide ofconviction which had steadily mounted up within her. The one thoughtin her mind was that he stood in danger. Her reason was slight enough, but her love accentuated her intuition. She saw in her mind theclaiming of the toll these men demanded, and to her swift imaginationthe picture of her husband's murder was complete before her eyes. 

"Sikkem comes from Orrville. He was there--four years ago. There wasmore than suspicion attached to him. My first day here I met him. Maybe you'll remember. He knew me at once. I don't guess there wasany mistake. And I knew him. When he heard I was--married to you hepretended he'd mistaken me for--some one else. And when he explainedwho, and his feelings against that woman--it was me he wasdescribing--I knew he was, as was suspected, one of the Lightfoot gangat Orrville. Sikkem wrote that note. I could stake my life on it. And--now he's sent for you. He's asking you to go out to SpruceCrossing--at night. A distant, lonely point in the hills. He sayshe's mortally wounded. He has found the rustlers hiding. Of course hehas. He's known all along. Nor do I believe he's wounded. He--andthe others--think the only way to get back on me is--through you. Theymean to kill you. Who's the boy who brought in word?"

"A new 'hand' we've taken on to replace the boy who was shot up twodays back. "

"One of the gang. "

The woman spoke with a decision she did not realize. But her beliefhad become conviction. No shadow of doubt remained. 

Jeff gazed thoughtfully down at the note. When he raised his eyes hisregard had undergone a shadow of change. 

There was less coldness in them. He shrugged. 

"Guess we'll leave that at present. Why all this now?"

"Because your life's in danger. That's how I figure. "

There was a deep note of urgency in the woman's voice. Her eyes werealight with a sudden, unmistakable emotion. But even if the manrealized these things he ignored them. 

"My life?" There was something cruelly biting in the reflection. "Andall this time you knew--Sikkem. You knew we were being raided. "

"I----" Elvine broke off. 

She had no reply. There could be no reply. Why, she wondered insudden horror, had she not told of this thing before?

She stood with downcast eyes before the accusing glance of the man. Then, after a moment's pause, a sound escaped his lips. And in it wasevery thinkable expression of condemnation and contempt. 

"Tchah!"

He turned away and strode across to his horse. The woman's voice cameto him low, despairing, appealing. 

"For God's sake, Jeff, don't go! You won't go! They'll kill you! Oh, God! Jeff! Oh!"

The final exclamation came in a sort of moan as the man swung himselfinto the saddle, and, without a word, turned his horse and rode away. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE HEARTS OF TWO WOMEN

The figure was silent, motionless upon the veranda. The eyes were dulland lifeless. It was as though paralysis held the woman in its grip. 

"Tchah!"

The echo of that fierce expletive remained. It rang through heart andbrain. Its sting was hot. It seared its way through the life channelsand blasted all hope. 

Was there ever such contempt, such scorn, such repulsion, concentratedin one single ejaculation! It told the woman everything. It told of afailure so complete that hope became an emotion driven forever from herheart. It told her that the usury of life was beyond all belief. Ittold her that the interest demanded for every pledged moment waswithout pity, or mercy, or justice. Now she knew how she had pawned, and, oh God, the interest which was being torn from her!

Her gaze remained upon the angle of the barn around which her husbandhad vanished. She was waiting for him to reappear. She was waiting tosee if he would ride off in spite of her warning. But she was unawareof the thought prompting her. All she knew, all she felt, was thecontempt, the scorn, the distrust he had hurled at her. 

The western sky had faded to a pallid yellow. The distance was losingitself in the rising purple shadows. Already the dark patches ofwoodlands were assuming that ghostly vagueness which belongs totwilight. The ranch was wrapped in a deep repose. A sense of rest hadfallen upon the great valley. All life seemed satisfied with its longday's effort and desired only the peace of night. 

But the quiet suddenly gave way before a fresh clatter of movement. Hoofs once more beat on the sun-baked soil. Two figures grew out ofthe twilight from behind the barn, and the woman knew that her warninghad gone for naught. She watched them until they were swallowed up bythe growing dusk. The last dim outline blurred itself into thepasture. Then she stirred. 

A deep sigh was heavily breathed. Then, in a moment, the paralysisfell from her. The dullness of her eyes gave place to a sheen ofexcitement, and her perfect cheeks assumed a faint, hectic flush. 

For one brief moment she glanced back into the house. Then she glanceddown at her own clothing. She was still clad in the riding suit whichhad become her daily wear. The survey seemed to satisfy her, for sheleft the veranda at a run, and made her way toward the barn. 

Perhaps five minutes later she, too, became lost in the growingtwilight, and her horse's hoofs awoke anew the echoes of the place. But her way did not lie in the track of the others. Her horse wasracing headlong in the direction of Nan's home. 

Bud and Nan were just finishing their supper when Elvine broke in uponthem. She came with a rush and a clatter which brought Nan out on tothe veranda in hurry of anxious inquiry. Bud was behind her, but hismovements lacked her impulse. 

Elvine was out of the saddle. She stood on the veranda, a figure ofwild-eyed appeal. 

"Jeff! Oh, he's gone. Nan, they'll--they'll kill him! I know it. I'm certain. And I warned him. I warned him. But--oh!"

She covered her face with her hands. It was a movement inspired by thememory of his scorn. 

Nan's responsive heart was caught by the other's emotion. But above itleaped a fear which she was powerless to deny. Jeff? Jeff in danger?She flung out an arm. Her small hand gripped the other with a forcethat was incredible. 

"What d'you mean?" she cried, almost fiercely. "Don't stand there likea fool. Who is going to harm Jeff?"

The sharp authority, so prompt, so unexpected, dragged the distraughtwoman into some command of herself. She raised her head. Her eyeswere hot with unshed tears. They looked into Nan's, so urgent, yet sofull of a steadfast sanity. 

"It's Sikkem, " she cried, steadying herself. "He's sent in to say he'sbadly shot up. He says he's located the rustlers' camp and must handJeff the news before--while he has time. Jeff's gone out there, and--Sikkem's one of the gang and escaped from Orrville four years ago. "

"How d'you know?" It was Bud's heavy voice put the question. It wasfull of stern command. 

"I've seen him. I know him, and--he knows me. He--he wrote this andsent it me. "

Elvine thrust the crumpled note at Bud. Her gesture was almostdesperate. 

"When did he send it?" Again came Bud's command. 

"Days ago. "

"An' Jeff--didn't know till--now?"

"I was afraid to tell him--then. "

Bud and Nan read the note by the parlor lamplight. A bitterimprecation broke from the man's lips. 

"Guess I don't get it--yet, " he said. 

But Nan was quicker. 

"He's gone to Spruce Crossing--to Sikkem?" she cried, her eyes hot asthey dwelt on the shaking woman before her. "Don't wait talking. Itdon't matter the right of things. You, Daddy, get our horses fixed andround up a bunch of boys from the bunkroom. Jeff's in danger, an' it'sup to us. Maybe Evie'll tell me while you go. "

Something of the great Bud's feelings was displayed in the celerity ofhis movements. He was gone before Nan had finished speaking. 

The two women were left facing each other. 

Seconds passed without a word. The gentle Nan no longer looked out ofthe brown eyes. They were hot, resentful. Nor would any one haverecognized in the anxious-eyed woman before her the beautiful creaturewho had first stirred Jeffrey Masters out of his years of celibatethought. 

Without a word Nan turned back to the parlor. When she reappeared shewas buckling a revolver belt about her slim waist. The two heavyholsters it supported were almost incongruous on so slight a figure. 

Elvine watched her. The girl's deliberation was in deep contrast toher own emotions. Then, too, the sympathy which had fled from Nan'sbrown eyes left them full of hard resolve. 

"You--are not going?" Elvine said, pointing at the weapons. 

Nan's surprise was genuine. 

"Jeff's in danger. "

"But you--a woman? You can't help. You might even----"

"Jeff's in danger. "

Nan repeated the words with an emphasis there could be no mistaking. And as the final syllable escaped her pretty lips became firmlycompressed. 

Elvine regarded her for a silent moment or two. A strange newsensation was stirring within her. Nan's attitude had brought it intobeing. Her earlier emotions receded before this new feeling. And, strangely enough, she remembered some words her mother had once spokento her. It was at a time before she had engaged herself to her husband. 

"But Jeff--is nothing to you, " she said abruptly. 

There was a new ring in the voice in which she spoke. 

"Is he?"

Nan's eyes looked straight into the wife's. There was no smile inthem. There was no emotion lying behind them that Elvine could read. They were steady, unflinching. That was all. 

Sounds came up from the ranch buildings. Voices reached them plainly. And among them Bud's dominating tones were raised above all. 

Nan's eyes were drawn in the direction, but her gaze only encounteredthe moonless night. 

"What is he--to you?" Elvine's demand was strident. She was rousedfrom her sense of her own sufferings, her own misery. The newlyawakened emotion had leaped to proportions which threatened tooverwhelm all others. 

Nan's eyes came back to her face. There was something almost recklessin their regard. There was even a suggestion of derision in them, asuggestion of triumph. But it was not the triumph over a rival. Itwas the triumph of one who realizes her conquest over self. 

"Everything!" she cried. Then she added almost to herself: "EverythingI can think of, have ever dreamed of in life. " Then suddenly her voicerose to a ring of ecstasy. It was the abundance, the purity of herlove, the certainty of victory over self which inspired it. "Ah, Evie, don't be rattled with what I'm telling you. Ther' surely is no need. You want to be mad with me. Guess you needn't to be. Jeff don't knowit. He never will know it. I've never had a hope of him since he metyou. He's always been just yours. I don't guess you need to worry athing that way. The worrying's for me. I've loved him since ever Iwas a child: since ever he came here. Well, you figure he's indanger--so it's up to those who love him to do. You see, I--well, Ijust love him with my whole soul. "

She turned away. The reception of her confession seemed to concern hernot at all. 

Out of the darkness loomed her father's great figure. He was leadingNan's horse as well as his own. The girl leaped into the saddle, andhe passed his own reins up to her. 

"I shan't be haf a minit, " he said. "I need my guns. The boys arewaitin' by the barn. "

He passed into the house. Then Nan observed Elvine. She, too, hadleaped into the saddle. Nor could the girl help being struck by themanner of her action. 

"You're goin' back home?" she cried. 

Elvine shook her head resolutely. 

"How--then?"

The wife suddenly urged her horse. It came right up to Nan's with analmost spasmodic jump, driven by a vicious jab of the woman's spurredheel. 

The dark eyes were lit with an angry fire as she leaned forward in thesaddle. Her words came in a voice of passionate jealousy. 

"You love him, so you go to him, ready to face anything--for him. Doyou think I don't love him? Do you think I'm not ready to dare forhim--anything? Your love gives you that right. What of mine? Doesmine give me no right? Say, child, your fool conceit runs away withyou. I tell you you don't know what love is. You say you love himwith your whole soul. And you are content to live without him. Psha!Your soul must be a poor enough thing. I tell you life means nothingto me without him. I can't and won't live without him. "

 * * * * * *

The black earth sped under the horses' hoofs. The stars shone like dewon the velvet pall of night. Bud led, as he always led in the thingspractical which belonged to his life. 

He needed no thought for guidance on that night journey. Unerringinstinct served him across those wide plains. Spruce Crossing mighthave possessed a beacon light, so straight, so unerring was the lead heoffered those behind him. 

Now, perhaps, more than ever, all his great skill was put forth. Forhe had listened to the complete, if halting, story of the man's wife, and shared with her the conviction of treachery. For the time, atleast, all consideration for the woman was thrust aside. He offered nowords of blame. His concern was simply the succor of his friend. 

Nan was ready to follow him whithersoever he led. She was ready toobey his lightest command, for she understood his skill. She had nothought for anything but the man she loved. No possibilities ofmischance, no threat to herself could find place in her thought. Forher Jeff's well-being was her single concern. 

Elvine rode beside her, step for step. She had told her story as theyrode. After that silence between them prevailed. It was a silencefraught with an emotion too deep for any words. A fierce jealousymingled with her passionate longing. Her world was empty of all buttwo figures. The man she loved, and the girl who had confessed herlove with all the strength of a great, simple courage. 

Whatever the night might bring forth, whatever tragedy might be instore, she scarcely had thought for anything but her own almost madresolve. This girl, this child of the plains, should obtain noadvantage. She was prepared to yield all for the succor of the husbandwho had scorned her--even to life itself. 

CHAPTER XXIV

TO SPRUCE CROSSING

The eyes of the night were there alone to see. It was as well. Thereare moments in men's lives when it is best that it should be so. Passions are not always sane. They are not always human. 

So it was with Jeffrey Masters. The change in him had been rapid. Itwas almost magical. Always one who lacked something of the softerhuman qualities, he yet must have been counted a man of balance. Ifsympathy, sentiment, were never his strong points, he was by no meanslacking in loyalty, kindliness, rightness of purpose. All his life, achievement, achievement under the strictest canons of honesty, ormoral scruple, had been the motive urging him. He had seen neither tothe right nor to the left of these things. 

Then had come the woman into his life and the lighting of those naturalfires which belong to all human life. He yielded to them, and thesuddenness of it all seemed to sweep away every cooler method which hadalways governed him. There had been no thought, no calculation in hisyielding, such as might have been expected. He was the victim of hisown temperament. His powerful restraint had been suddenly relaxed. And, for the time, he had been completely overwhelmed by the intensityof his passion. 

But this passion for the woman who had so suddenly entered his life wasmerely the opening of vials of emotion hitherto held sealed. It was noradical transformation. All that had been his before still remained, buried perhaps for the moment under the avalanche of feeling, butnevertheless still occupying its place. These things could not beswept away. They could not be destroyed. They would remain when thepassionate fires had completely burned themselves out. 

But the unlooked-for had happened. These fires had not been permittedto burn themselves out. They had been extinguished, deluged out ofexistence when the idol of his worship was flung headlong from itspedestal by the complete revolt of his moral being. His prejudices, his instincts, matured through years of effort, were the stronger partof him, and the conflict was decided before it began. The shock ofdiscovery had brought a terrible reaction. His love was killed underthe blow. And though for a while the sense of overwhelming disasterhad been crushing, the measure of that disaster was taken swiftly. Itleft him disillusioned, it left him harder, colder. But it left himsane. 

These things were not all, however. On this night he had approachedfar nearer the hell which only a woman can create for a man than hisfirst discovery had borne him. The irony of it was perfect. Out ofher great love for him, solely in his interest, in a great desire toshield him from a danger she saw threatening him, she had contrived toconvince him that she had been as ready to sacrifice him, hisinterests, the interests of his friends, as she had been to accept theprice offered for the blood of his twin brother. 

So the eyes of the night looked down upon the haunting figure of a manwho knew neither mercy, nor pity, nor hope. The world of humanhappiness had closed its doors upon him, and his whole spirit and bodydemanded a fierce retaliation. 

That was the mood which looked out of his coldly shining eyes. Thatwas the mood which drove the horse under him at a headlong gait, andleft his spurs blood-stained upon his heels. That was the mood thatleft him caring nothing for any danger that might lurk under cover ofthe starlit dark of night. The fierceness of his temper demandedoutlet. Bodily outlet. Active conflict. Anything, so that a burninglust for hurt should be satisfied. He cared nothing at all forhimself. No bodily suffering could compare with the anguish of mind hehad passed through, was still passing through. And so he rode headlongtill the youth accompanying him was hard put to it to keep pace withhim. 

The hammering of the horses' hoofs upon the sun-baked earth was afitting accompaniment to his mood. The sigh of the night breezesthrough the trees was no less desolate than his heart. Nor was thedarkness one whit more dark than the stream of thought which flowedthrough his hot brain. 

Not one word did he exchange with the man behind him. In truth theyouth who had brought the summons had no part in the thing that washappening, at least not in Jeffrey Masters' mind. There was no onebesides himself in this. There was just himself and his goal--whateverthat might bring forth--with a wild, almost insane desire to actfiercely and without mercy should opportunity offer. 

The land rose and fell, from hill to valley, from valley to hill. Theway lay through avenues of bluff-lined grass, or across hollows ofvirgin pasture. Trickling mountain streams barred the way, only to bepassed without a thought of their depth, or the dangers of theirtreacherous, sodden banks. The mountain barrier ahead, looming darklyforbidding in the starlight, with its mazing hollows and woodlandcrowns, was incapable of inspiration at the moment. There are momentswhen Nature's profoundest awe is powerless to affect the mind of man. These were such moments. The whole mind of Jeffrey Masters wasabsorbed till there was no room for any influence which did not ariseout of the burden of his bitterness. 

But if he were indifferent to his surroundings, the man riding hardbehind him moved with eyes and ears fully alert. That which he wasseeking would have been impossible to tell. Nevertheless every shadowseemed to possess interest, every night sound to possess some qualityworth remarking. Not for an instant, after the hills had been entered, did his vigilance relax. 

Spruce Crossing lay deep in the hills, a clearing to the south of thejunction of converging mountain streams. It was a mere cattle station, neither better nor worse than several others lying on the outskirts ofthe Obar territory. Yet it was important that it headed a valleyrunning north and south amongst the hills, where the grass was sweet, and rich, and fattening, one of those surprise natural pastures whichthe hills love to yield occasionally to those who seek out their wealth. 

A glimmer of light, like some distant star fallen to earth from itsvelvet setting above, marked the station, house. It was visible at agreat distance down the flat stretch of the valley. The ranchman'shorse was headed directly for it, and the animal moved readily, eagerlynow, nor were the spurs needed to urge him further. The instinct ofits journey's end was sufficient to encourage its flagging spirits. 

The distant light grew brighter. It took on the rectangular form of awindow opening in a log-built hut. 

Jeffrey Masters had fixed his gaze upon it, and so the shadowy sceneabout him passed all unnoticed. He saw nothing of the darker objectslying on the ground adjacent to his way. The slumbering kine whichbore his brand remained all unheeded. He had no thought for them. Hiscourse took him over a track which passed down a land between twofenced pastures. These, too, were stocked with fattening steers, orwith the brood cows and their attendant calves. At another time, underother conditions, these things would have held for him an absorbinginterest. Now they concerned him not at all. 

The dark pastures gave place to a number of corrals, also lost in thesummer night. A dog barked. Then, in a moment, its sharp yelps becamesilent, and the stillness became once more unbroken except for the hardpounding hoofs of the two horsemen approaching. 

A few moments later these sounds ceased as the dark outline of thestation house itself took shape. 

For a few seconds Jeff gazed at the window opening where the light fromwithin was still shining. A sound had caught and held his attention. It came from within the hut, and there was no mistaking it. It was thesound inspired by physical suffering, and the voice that uttered it wasa man's. He sprang out of the saddle and turned to hand his horse tothe man who had accompanied him. But he found himself standing alone. 

With a shrug of the shoulders he left his horse and turned at once tothe hut. Just for an instant he hesitated once more. It was histhought to look in through the window. The hesitation passed. Thenext moment he passed along the lateral log walls to the far end of thebuilding where he knew the door to be situated. 

The door was closed. He placed his hand on the heavy wooden latch. Asecond passed. He glanced over his shoulder. It had occurred to himto wonder at the sudden going of the youth who had accompanied him. 

But there was neither sight nor sound of the vanished youth. He raisedthe latch and swung the door open. 

CHAPTER XXV

AN EPIC BATTLE

The station house was extensive. It was a bunkhouse of lesserdimensions. 

Jeff's eyes moved swiftly over the dim interior. The remoter cornersof the place were shadowed. But the light was sufficient to yield hima view of four squalid bunks on which the many-hued blankets weretumbled. The walls bore signs of personal effort at decoration. Therewere photographs over each bunk, tacked up and disfigured by flies. There were odd prints pasted on the rough log walls, the seams of whichwere more or less adequately filled with mud to keep the weather out. 

There were two rough window openings, one in each side wall. The onlyentrance or exit was the door at the northern end, through which he hadapproached. At the other end, directly opposite this, an oil lamp wasshedding its feeble rays through a well-smoked chimney glass. It wasstanding on a small improvised table which divided two bunks set onwooden trestles. The whole interior was perhaps thirty feet in lengthand twelve feet wide, a roomy, unkempt shanty, which served its simplepurpose as a shelter for men unused to any of the comforts of life. 

The object which caught and held Jeff's instant attention was thefigure of the man seated on the side of one of the bunks, beside thetable on which the lamp stood. It was the figure of Sikkem Bruce, bearing no trace whatever of any mortal injury, and with a look ofwide-eyed surprise upon his evil countenance. 

Jeff moved up the room. He approached without haste. His eyes weresteady, and his expression one of tight-lipped determination. Therewas something coldly commanding in his attitude. His fair, bronzedfeatures, keen, set, displayed no weakening. His body seemed poisedready for everything that could possibly happen. The latent power andvigor of his movements were tremendous. He carried no weapons ofdefense in view, and his dress was a simple loose jacket over a cottonshirt, and, for nether garments, a pair of loose riding breeches whichterminated in soft leather top-boots. 

Sikkem's eyes were on him the whole time. There was even some slightapprehension in them at the sight of that swift, voiceless approach. Jeff came to a halt before him, and it was the ranch hand who foundspeech most necessary. 

"Say, I didn't guess you was gettin' around to-night, boss, " he saidwith some show of ease. 

"No?"

"I sure didn't. "

Jeff's retort flashed out. 

"Then what did you send that youngster in for with mouthful of durnedlies?"

Sikkem stared. But his look was unconvincing. Moments passed beforehis reply came, and in those moments the keen eyes of his employer werebusy. The man was still in the working kit of a cowpuncher. Even tothe chapps, and the prairie hat crushed down on his ugly bullet head. Then, too, his pair of guns were still strapped about his waist. Noneof these things escaped Jeff, any more than did the fellow's clumsyregard. He wondered how much truth--if any--lay behind that mask ofwicked eyes and brutish features. 

"I'm waiting. "

Jeff's demand came with a rasp. The man's delay in reply had conveyedall he wanted to know of the truth in him. 

"Wot youngster? I tell you I didn't send no one in. " There wastruculence in the denial. "Wot's the lies?"

The ranchman was no match for the keen mind of his employer. In bruteforce he might have been more than his equal. But even that wasdoubtful. While he was speaking Jeff moved. Up to that moment he hadbeen facing the foreman with his back turned toward the distant door. Now his movement placed him against the table with his back to theother empty bunk, and his focus took in not only the man before him, but the shadowy outline of the distant half-open door. 

"It's the boy we took on the other day at--your recommendation. Yourrecommendation. Get me? Guess he came with the yarn you were shot todeath. You'd located the rustlers' camp. You needed to see me quick. "Jeff's words came swiftly. Then after a pause he added: "You didn'tsend him along? Who did?"

As Jeff watched the man's deliberate shake of the head he became awareof a muffled sound, somewhere away beyond the door. It was faint, but, to him, unmistakable. He gave no sign. 

"Where are the other boys?" he demanded. 

"Out on cattle guard. "

The movement beyond the door again penetrated the silence of the hut. Now it was that the ranchman made his mistake. Only for an instant didhe turn his head and eyes in the direction of the sound. But it wassufficient. 

Jeff's voice rasped again. 

"Stand up, darn you! Stand up!"

Sikkem's gaze came back abruptly, and on the instant his right handflew to his waist for his guns. But the muzzle of Jeff's revolver waswithin a foot of his head, and behind it his coldly shining eyes. 

Sikkem's hand dropped from his waist. He stood up. The law of the gunwas powerfully ingrained upon his mind. 

"Loose those guns at your waist--quick! Let 'em drop on the bunk!Quick, or I'll pump you full of lead!"

The deadliness of Jeff's command was irresistible. The power of thatleveled gun indisputable. The buckle was loosened, and the weaponsfell on the blankets behind the ranchman. 

"Now push your hands up! Right up!"

The command was obeyed on the instant, but the look which accompaniedthe movement was as deadly as human passion could make it. 

"Back away! Back to the far end! Sharp!"

Sikkem moved. But his movement was not rapid enough. Jeff urged him. 

In the pause Jeff's straining ears caught again the sound of movement, and he wondered why development was not precipitated. Perhaps---- ButSikkem had nearly reached the distant wall, and, at that instant, awhistle shrilled through the building. 

Jeff knew he was trapped. But, with a wonderful sense of detachment, mind and body worked almost electrically. His revolver spat out itsvicious report. For the fraction of a second he held the smoking lamppoised in his other hand. Then, like a shooting star, it flew throughthe adjacent window and fell extinguished amidst the crash of its ownglass. It was at the complete fall of darkness that the door slammedclosed, and half a dozen shots rang out through the building, followedby the "plonk" of the bullets embedding themselves in the solid logsimmediately behind where the rancher had been standing. 

But Jeff was no longer there. There had been a simultaneous clatter offalling bunk boards. There was the rustling of straw. Then a sound ofscrambling, and, after that, a dead silence. The darkness was completeexcept for the faint silhouette of the windows against the dimstarlight beyond them. 

Jeff had taken the big chance. What remained now must be met ascircumstance permitted. The blood in him was fired. The savagedelight of battle. He would sell the last breath in his body at thehighest price he could make his enemies pay. He had walked into a traplaid by the rustlers, headed, perhaps, by Sikkem Bruce, with his eyeswide open, and some almost insane yearning made him glad. 

Now he crouched down against the wall beside the table. He had flungup a barrier of straw palliasse before him. It was not as a protectionagainst gun-fire, but to screen his movements should his opponentsproduce a light. Then, too, there was another thought in his mind. 

The place became alive with sounds, voiceless, muffled sounds ofcautious movement. It was the movement of men who know that death islurking at every turn. Nor could they tell whence it was most likelyto come. It was a moment of tense and straining nerves wherein the witof one man had discounted the elaborate plan to murder of those whoseindifference to death only shrank from the contemplation of their own. 

Jeff's eyes strained against the darkness. The windows stood out insilhouette. From these he had no fear. He knew, and he knew thatthese ruffians would know, the dangers attending themselves from anyattack upon him from such a direction. The advantage would be entirelyhis, since he had possessed himself of Sikkem's complete arsenal. Heknew it was for him to await the fire of these men, every shot of whichwould yield him a sure target. 

A flash broke the blackness ahead of him. The bullet sank into thewoodwork just above his head with a vicious splash. But he refrainedfrom reply. Another crack split the silence, and the wall to the leftof him flung back its response. Still he offered no reply. 

His eyes were searching, searching. And a surge of excitement suddenlythrilled him. 

Two shots came on the same instant. One slithered hotly in the fleshof his shoulder, but the other struck wide of him. 

The wound gave him no concern. Every sense, every faculty wasconcentrated on one thought, on one object. A dim, fine-drawn butuneven line of shadowy light had grown out of the darkness to his nowaccustomed eyes. It was vague, so vague that it required the greatestconcentration to detect. But he recognized it for what it was, and asavage delight possessed him as he observed that there were breaks inits continuity. The line was waist high, and lateral, and heinterpreted it to suit himself. 

He raised his gun and took steady aim at one of the breaks. His shotwas deliberate, careful, since the sight of his weapon, even the weaponitself, remained invisible in the dark. He fired, and dropped himselfprone behind his barrier. 

A bitter curse followed by a groan of pain was the answer to his shot. Then, where that break in the shadowy line of light had been, now theline was unbroken. 

A fierce glee permeated him. The curse, the moan had been music tohim. But it only required a second before he had the enemy's retort. 

It came with a fusillade. And every shot seemed to find practicallythe same spot on the wall. He knew that the flash of his gun had beenthe target. He knew he had only escaped by a fraction of time. 

His shoulder stung him. But his will, his savage yearning for thecontinuance of the fight, left him disregarding. There was more tocome, and he knew it. Nor did he care how much. The blood was hot inhis brain. No pain, nothing mattered. Again he searched along thatlateral line of light. 

He was reaching out far beyond his retreat. He had stealthily crawledto the left of the table. Again his weapon was raised against anotherbreak in that telltale line of light, this time at a point where theangle of the building must be. A moment passed while he judged hisaim. It was by no means easy. Instinct was his only guide. Thatinstinct which belongs to the man accustomed to the constant use of arevolver. 

His shot rang out. Again came a cry, inarticulate, fierce. Thenfollowed the sound of a falling body. Then he let loose a second shot. But even as it sped he had his answer. Four tongues of flame leapedout at him in the darkness, and four bullets smote viciously into thewood behind him. 

His second shot had cost him a sharp penalty. The flesh of his forearmhad been ripped by one of those four bullets and he felt the trickle ofwarm blood over the unscored flesh. 

He crouched behind his barrier. The joy of battle for the higheststakes for which a man can play was undiminished in him. The wounds hehad received left him all unconcerned. In the thrill of the moment hehad no time for them. The desire to kill was strong, and he knew hecould already count two victims. 

But the general in him was foremost, even in the excitement of battle. The number of his opponents, their next move. These things concernedhim seriously. 

He searched the line of light with eager eyes. He listened to thesound of movement. These things were all he had to rely on, and ontheir accurate reading depended his chances of victory or defeat, withits certainty of swift death. 

In two places there ware still definite breaks in the line. He knew hehad accounted for two of the enemy. Originally a volley of six shotshad come at him. There were two unaccounted for. Where were these?They were not standing. 

He looked for no depths of subtlety in the methods of these men. Heunderstood their ruffianism too well. Therefore the sound of movementthat reached him suggested the obvious result of their first failure. It was the presage of an attack at close quarters. 

He listened intently. The sounds were of shuffling bodies, movinguncertainly, possibly fearful of contact with obstruction which mightbetray them. And he calculated they were approaching low down alongthe side walls, thus hoping to offer the least target possible. Ifthey reached him the chances would be all against him. They must notreach him. His decision was promptly taken. 

He raised one of Sikkem's guns. It was heavy, and a sense of pleasurefilled him as he felt the enormous bore of the muzzle with one finger. Stealthily he raised himself to his full height behind his barrier. Heleveled his gun at a spot just below the right hand window, where thewall rose up out of the floor. There was no obstacle intervening. 

A moment later the crack of the gun burst through the silence. Then, on the instant, he flung himself prone across the table. His answercame like lightning. Four shots. And three of them harmlessly toretheir way into the bowels of the woodwork. The fourth had come fromthe direction in which he had aimed. 

A fierce spasm of pain through his chest blinded him mentally andphysically for the moment. But, by an almost superhuman effort, herecovered himself. He knew he was hit, and hit badly. Somethingseemed to have broken inside him, just under his left armpit. 

He forced himself to an upright position and flung out his gun arm. His eyes were again on the line of light. A fury of recklessness wasurging him. There were the breaks, and he blazed at each in turn, carefully, deliberately. A moment later two shots came from the rightand left of him, and he dropped down behind his barrier, but not beforehe had heard the death-cries of fierce blasphemy at the far end of theroom. 

He lay behind his shelter breathing hard and suffering an agony ofphysical pain. The sweat poured down his forehead. It seemed to himthat everything was somehow receding from him, even the sense of hisown danger. In these feelings he realized how near he was to defeat, and with all his will he set himself to conquer his weakness. A fewmoments passed. His pain eased. Then, with all the recklessness ofthe gambler, he prepared for his final throw. 

He was certain he had accounted for four of the enemy. Four. Hecalculated there were still two remaining. He shifted his position, moving himself clear of his shelter. A hell of suffering was enduredin the process, and the sweat poured out afresh upon his forehead. Hegritted his teeth with superlative determination and flung back thedreadful faintness seeking to smother his powers. 

He raised himself to a sitting posture. He sought support from thewall behind him. Then, with unbroken nerve, he raised both Sikkem'sguns, one in each hand. Without a tremor he held them, and his aimtook in the two points at which he felt the remaining foe wereadvancing upon him. Oh, for one moment of light wherein to assurehimself! But the thought passed as it came, followed by a wild, simplehope that one of his shots might find its billet. 

He pressed the trigger in each hand. He fired rapidly. He fired untilboth guns were empty. Then he flung them to the ground with a clatter. For an instant he thrilled at the sound of a cry of pain, and thefierce accompanying blasphemy. Then he flung himself down and crawledto his retreat behind the palliasse, convinced that the cry was in thevoice of Sikkem Bruce. 

His sufferings were well-nigh unendurable. His very breathing causedhim an exquisite pain. He even found himself wondering how much longerhe could endure. 

But his work was not yet finished. If he must die he would diefighting. 

Now, blending with fresh sounds of movement along the side walls, another sound added its threat to the quiet of the room. It came frombehind the straw palliasse. There was heavy breathing, almost gasping. There was a distinct gritting of teeth. But there was also a sound ofthe effort which caused these things in the wounded man. There was asharp ripping and tearing, the rustle of straw and--something else. The movements were hasty, desperately hasty. Movements which suggestedthe defender's realization of the narrow limits of time before hispowers would become completely exhausted. 

These things lasted a matter of seconds only. Then the threat broke. The quiet was shocked into desperate action. There was the shout ofhuman voices. There was the rush and scramble of feet. Then, in themidst of the tumult, a great tongue of flame leaped up from the heartof the straw palliasse. 

Its fierce, ruddy light revealed the faces of two men leaping to theattack of the wounded defender. They were within a yard of their goal. But even as they were closing upon him they reeled back before the newterror whose dread was overwhelming even in face of their murderouslust. 

The flame shot up toward the roof. Jeff staggered to his feet bearingin his arms the blazing bundle. Higher he raised it. Higher andhigher, till the devouring flame licked at the parched thatch of grassroof above. It caught in a second. The flames swept up along therough rafters till they reached the pitch of the roof. In a momentgreat billows of smoke were rolling out of the dry crevices. 

Just for one instant, before the fog closed down upon the wholeinterior, Jeff beheld the result of his work. The men had fled towardthe closed door, and, on the ground, against the far wall, he had aglimpse of five bodies lying crumpled up where his guns had laid them. 

Suddenly a great shout reached him from without. 

"Ho, Jeff! Ho, boy!"

It was a deep-throated roar which drowned the hiss and crackle of theblazing straw. 

Jeff's answer rang through the burning structure with all the power ofhis lungs. 

"The door! Bust it! Quick, Bud! Bust it, an' stand clear!"

For answer there was a crash on the woodwork outside. He waited for nomore. With a wild rush through the blinding, choking fog of smoke hecharged down the room. With all his might he flung the blazingpalliasse from his scorched hands. He had no idea of the direction inwhich it went. His one desire now was to reach the door as it gaveunder the sledge-hammer attacks of the men outside. 

He heard a crash and rending of woodwork. He could see nothing. Hewas incapable of further effort. The end had come all too soon. Hestaggered blindly, helplessly. His tottering limbs gave under him. Suffocation gripped him by the throat. He was conscious of the rush ofa figure toward him. The sound of his name shrieked in a woman'svoice. Then there were shots fired. He heard them. And it seemedthere were many of them, and the sound was blurred, and vague, anddistant from his ears. He fell. He knew he fell. For hours it seemedto him he continued to fall in an abyss of blackness that was whollyhorrifying. It was a blackness peopled with hideous invisible shadows. So impenetrable was the inky void that even sound had no place in it. 

CHAPTER XXVI

UNDER THE VEIL

There was no moon. Only a starry sheen lit the night. A wonderfulpeace had descended upon the hills. The quiet was the hush of thestill prairie night. Teeming maybe with restless life; but it was alife invisible, and rarely audible. Nevertheless the hush was merely aveil. A veil which concealed, but had no power to sweep away thegarnered harvest of violent human passions. 

The figure of a man lay stretched upon his back on the bank of theriver. His head was carefully pillowed. A covering had been spreadover the upper body, as though to hide that which lay beneath, ratherthan yield warmth and comfort on the summer night. The covering was acoat, a woman's coat, and the owner of it sat crouching over her charge. 

Nan stirred. She reached out and tucked the long skirts of the coatunder the man's shoulders with that mother instinct at once sosolicitous, so tender. She shifted her position which had becomecramped with her long vigil. These were moments of darkness, literaland mental. Her anxiety and dread were almost overwhelming. Thewaiting seemed interminable. 

She raised her eyes from her yearning regard of the still, bandagedhead with its pale features. She sighed, as she turned them in anotherdirection, toward an object lying beneath the shadow of a great redwillow near by. It was a dark object, huddled and, like the other, quite still. A curious sort of fascination held her for some moments, then, almost reluctantly, as though impelled by the trend of herfeelings, her gaze wandered in the direction whence was wafted towardher a pungent reek of burning. It was the dimly outlined skeleton ofthe station house, roofless and partly fallen, white-ashed and stillfaintly smoking. 

For long moments she regarded this sign of the destruction which hadbeen wrought. Nor was the sigh which escaped her wholly of regret. Adeep stirring was in her heart. She was thinking of the heroic battlewhich the station home had witnessed. She was thinking of thedesperate odds one man had faced within those four walls. She wasthinking, too, of the victory which ultimately had been his. But thecost. She shuddered. And her eyes came back to the white upturnedfeatures of the man before her. 

She started. The man's eyes were open. Tenderly she raised a hand andsmoothed the cold forehead with its soft palm. Tears of emotion hadgathered in her eyes on the instant. But they did not overflow downher cheeks. 

The eyes closed again. The lids moved slowly, as though reluctant toperform their office. The girl literally held her breath. Would theyopen again? Or---- Her question was answered almost on the instant. They reopened. This time even more widely. They were staring straightup at the starlit sky, quite unmoving. There was no consciousness inthem, and barely life. 

Nan waited for some long apprehensive moments. Her heart was full of awild, new-born hope. But fear held her, too. At last she moved. Shewithdrew herself gently but swiftly. Then she stood up, a picture ofdapper womanhood in the white shirt-waist and loose riding breecheswhich the coat spread over the man's body should have held concealed. A moment later the darkness swallowed her up as she sped down the trailwhich passed near by. 

With her going there crept into the man's vacant eyes the first realsign of life. 

Five minutes later the girl was back at his side. But she had notreturned alone. Bud was with her, and together they bent over theprostrate form. The girl was kneeling. She had gently takenpossession of one of the bandaged hands lying inert at the man's side. Tenderly enough she held it between her own soft palms and chafed it, while her shining eyes, yielding all the secrets of her devoted heart, gazed yearningly down into his. 

"Jeff!" she murmured, in a low, eager tone. "Jeff!"

There was no response. The eyes were fixed and staring. 

Bud had less scruples in his anxious impatience. 

"Say, that ain't no sort o' way to wake him, Nan, " he whisperedhoarsely. Then in his deep gruff voice he displayed his betterunderstanding. "Say, Jeff! You ken hear me, boy. You're jestfoolin'. Say, hark to this. You beat 'em. You beat 'emsingle-handed, an' shot 'em plumb down. "

Curiously enough there was almost instant result, and Bud'ssatisfaction became evident. The staring eyes relaxed their regard ofthe starry heavens. The lids flickered, then the eyes themselvesturned in the direction whence came those sonorous tones. 

"You ken hear?"

Bud's words came on the instant, and were full of triumph. Then heturned to the girl who had promptly relinquished Jeff's hand. 

"We ain't got a thing to hand him, 'cep' it's water, " he saidhalf-angrily. "We can't jest move him, not nothin', till the boys gitalong with the wagon, an' that blamed dope merchant gits around. Whatin hell ken we do?"

"Wait. "

Nan's finality robbed her father of his complaint. 

"Guess we'll hev to. Say----"

"Yes?"

"Do you guess he ken talk if he feels that way?"

But Nan was no longer giving him any attention. All her thoughts, allher being was for the man before them. 

A faint tinge of color was creeping under his skin, up to the softwhite wrapping fastened about his fire-scorched forehead. Even in thestarlight it was plainly visible to the girl's eager eyes. There wassomething else, too. The look in his eyes had completely changed. ToNan there was something approaching the shadow of a smile. 

She moved close to his side so that she could reach out and give himsupport. Then she gave the father at her side his orders. 

"Get water, Dad--quick!" she demanded. 

Bud demurred. 

"I only got my hat, " he said helplessly. 

"It'll do. But get it. "

Bud moved away, with the heavy haste of two hundred and ten pounds ofmental disturbance. 

The moment he had gone a faint sigh escaped the injured man. Nan heldher breath. Would he--speak? She would give worlds to hear the soundof his voice, She had believed him dying. Now a wild hope surged. Ifhe would--could speak, it seemed to her simple logic that he must--live. 

"Nan!"

The word was distinct, but, oh, the weakness of voice. The girlthrilled. 

"Yes, Jeff. I'm here. I'm right beside you. "

"Tell me--things. "

The girl's heart sank. In a flash she remembered all there was totell. Why had his first thoughts on returning life been ofthese--things? Yet it was like him--so like him. She drew a deepbreath and resorted to subterfuge. 

"It's as Dad shouted at you just now, Jeff. You beat themall--lone-handed. But you mustn't talk. Don't worry about them. Guess they're not worth it. You've been shot up, Jeff, an' Dad an' Iwe've just fixed you the best we know, an' the boys have gone right infor a wagon, an' a doctor. The doc's got to get in from Moose Creek, twenty miles away. That's what scares me. "

The smile in the man's eyes had deepened. 

"Don't--get--scared, Nan. I'm--not dying. "

The girl thrilled at the assurance in the tired voice. But the thrillpassed as swiftly as it came. She knew what would follow when Jeff hadgathered sufficient strength. 

Sure enough he went on presently:

"I remember everything--till--I dropped, " he said haltingly. "Whathappened--after--that? Y'see--I--heard--firing. "

Nan glanced helplessly about her. If only her father would return withthe water! It might help her. She felt that she could not, could nottell him the things he was demanding of her. 

But again came his demand, and in the tone of it was a sound of peevishimpatience. 

"What--happened--after--Nan? I need--to know. "

"It all came of a rush. I can't just tell it right. "

The man's eyes closed again. He remained silent so long that Nan'sapprehensions reawakened. She even forgot her panic at his persistence. 

"Jeff! Jeff!"

Her call to him was almost a whisper. But the man heard. His eyesopened at once. 

"Yes, Nan?"

The girl laughed a little hysterically. 

"I--I--was----"

"You thought I----"

"Yes, yes. But you are--better? Sure?"

The man's head turned deliberately toward her. There was astonishingvigor in the movement. 

"Ther's things broke inside me, Nan, " he said, in a voice that wasgrowing stronger. "A rib, I guess. Maybe it's my shoulder. Theothers--guess they're just nothing. Now tell me--the things I asked. How did you happen to git around? Start that way. "

A sense of relief helped the girl. He had given her an opportunitywhich she seized upon. 

"Oh, Jeff, it was just thanks to Evie. I guess she saved your life. "

"How?"

The girl's enthusiasm received a set-back in his tone. 

"She came right along over to us, and told us--everything--the momentyou'd gone. We followed you just as hard as the horses could lay footto the ground. Dad an' me, and six of the boys. "

"What did Evie do?"

"She came along--too. "

"Wher' is she?"

Nan made no answer. The question was repeated more sharply. 

"Wher' is she?"

"She's under that red willow--yonder. "

The girl's voice was low. Her words were little more than a whisper. 

"Is she--hurt?"

"She's--dead. "

At that moment Bud reappeared bearing a hat full clear river water. 

Nan looked up. 

"How can we give it him?" she questioned. Somehow the importance ofthe water had lessened in her mind. 

Jeff answered the question himself. 

"I don't need it, Bud, " he said. Then he added as an afterthought:"Thanks. "

Nan looked up at her father who stood doubtfully by. 

"Set it down, Daddy. Then get right along an' look out for the doc, an' the wagon. Hustle 'em along. "

Bud obeyed unquestioningly. He felt that Nan's understanding of thesituation was better than any ideas of his. He set the hat down forthe water to percolate through the soft felt at its leisure. Then hemoved on. 

The moment he was out of earshot Jeff's voice broke the silence oncemore. 

"Nan?"

"Yes, Jeff?"

"Wher's the red willow? How far away?"

"A few yards. "

"Can you help me up?" The question came after a long consideringpause. It came with a certain eagerness. 

But Nan remonstrated with all her might. 

"No, no, Jeff, " she cried, in serious alarm. "You mustn't. True youmustn't. It'll kill you to move now. "

Her appeal was quite without effect. 

"Then I'll have to do it myself. "

Jeff's obstinate decision was immovable, and in the end the girl wasforced to give way. 

The sick man endured five minutes of the intensest agony in the effortrequired. Twice he nearly fainted, but, in the end, he stood besidethe somewhat huddled figure under the red willow, gasping under theexcruciation of internal pains. 

"I can lie here, Nan, " he said. "Will you--help me?"

Exerting all her strength the girl helped him to the ground. Theposition he had chosen was close to the still form of his dead wife. Once he was safely resting again, Nan breathed her relief. 

He looked up at her, and something like a smile was in his blue eyes. 

"Thanks, Nan. Say--I'll need that coat of yours--later. Will you goalong--and get it?"

Nan moved away. She needed no second bidding. Nor did she returnuntil the man's voice summoned her. 

"Nan!" he called. 

She came to him at once bearing her coat in her hands. For a second, surprise widened her eyes. He was no longer where she had left him. He had moved a few yards away. And she wondered how he had beencapable of the unassisted effort. Then she glanced swiftly at the deadwoman. The covering over the body had been moved. She was certain. It had been replaced differently from the way she had arranged it. Sheoffered no comment, but busied herself spreading her coat over theman's bared chest, where the rough bandages had been fastened with herfather's aid. 

Again she seated herself on the ground beside him, but now his face wasturned from her. It was toward the still figure a few yards away. 

"Tell me the rest now, Nan, " he said. "She did her--best--to--save me. "

"More than her best. Say, Jeff, she loved you better than life. That's why she's--there. "

"Tell me. "

A new note had crept into his demand. There was a hush in his voicewhich gave his words a curious tenderness, reverence even for the womanthey were speaking of. 

"Guess it must have been over in a minute. Oh, say, it was just thebiggest, blindest, most tremendous thing. It was too awful. She wasso beautiful, too. And then the love in it. I kind of shiver when Ithink of it. We heard your shout, Jeff. Evie came right along withus. She insisted. You see, I'd made her mad. I'd blamed her to herface. I--I'm sorry now. But, my, she was brave, and how she lovedyou! Well, when Bud heard your shout I guess it didn't take him morethan a minute to beat in the door they'd fastened. Him an' the boys. The rest took seconds. We stood clear, as you said, guessing you meanta run for it. The place was ablaze. When the door fell we saw it all. You were near it. Beyond you were two men. Sikkem was one. They wereagainst the far wall, sideways from the door. They had guns in theirhands. They meant finishing you anyway, whatever happened after. Butthere was a bundle of blazing stuff in front of them, an' it seemed toworry them quite a deal. You started for the door. They got busy touse their guns right away. Then something happened. We'd forgot Evie. Guess we were plumb staggered. Something rushed past us, into thatblazing hut. It was Evie, an' she managed to get between you and themjust as you dropped. She fell where she stood. It was the shotsthey'd meant for you. Then Bud opened on 'em, the boys did too, andafter that we dragged you and Evie out. Oh, Jeff, she just didn't wantto live without you. "

A great sob broke from the girl, and it found an echo deep down in theman's heart. Nan buried her face in her hands, and the sound of hersobs alone broke the stillness. 

The man offered no comment. He made no movement. He lay there withhis clear eyes gazing at the silhouette of that still dark figureagainst the mysterious sheen of night. His look gave no key to histhoughts or emotions. His own physical sufferings even found noexpression in them. But thoughts were stirring, deep thoughts andemotions which were his alone, and would remain his alone until the end. 

CHAPTER XXVII

THE ROUND-UP

Bud's great bulk blocked the window opening on to the veranda. It washis favorite vantage point in leisure. The after breakfast pipeusually found him there. His evening pipe, when the sun was dippingtoward the glistening, fretted peaks of the hills, rarely found himelsewhere. It was the point from which, in a way, he was able to viewthe whole setting of the life that was his. 

The winter had come and gone, vanishing amidst the howling gales ofsnow and sleet which never fail to herald the approach of the openseason. It is almost like the last furious onslaught of a despairingand defeated foe. Now the world was abeat with swift pulsations infibre and nerve. The wide valley of Rainbow Hill was stirring with thevigor of renewed life. Man, beast, fowl, foliage. It was the same. Spring was in the blood. Spring was in the sap. And all the world wasfresh and ready for the call of the coming year. 

The spring round-up was in full swing with all its ceaseless toil forthe ranching world. Already the pastures were crowded with stockbrought in from distant valleys and grazings. Numberless calvesanswered their mothers' calls, and hung to their sides in panic at thecommotion in the midst of which they found themselves. Alreadyhundreds of them had endured the terrors of the searing irons whichleft them indelibly marked as the property of the great Obar Ranch, while hundreds more were awaiting the same process. 

And the irons and forges were kept going all day. Just as was thelargely augmented band of cattlemen. In ones and twos these hardyruffians, many of them "toughs" who worked at no other time of theyear, scoured every hill, and valley, and plain, however remote in thevast region. Theirs it was to locate the strays to whatever ranch theybelonged, and bring them in to home pastures. The sorting would bemade after and the distribution. For the whole of the round-up was acommonwealth amongst the growers, and each and everybody was calledupon to do his adequate share in the work. 

Bud was glad. Nor was it without good reason. The busy life was thelife he lived for. And the busy life had been made possible andcomplete by the events of the previous summer. 

He was physically weary and yearning for the supper which was stillawaiting Nan's return. But if he were physically tired the feeling didnot extend beyond his muscles. His thoughts were busy as his eyesgazed out upon the scenes of life and movement which were going on. 

Just now he was thinking of the girl, impatient at the delay of herreturn from the pastures, where she was superintending the sorting forthe morrow's branding. Thinking of her quickly carried him to thoughtsof his partner and friend, and thus, by degrees, his mind went back tothe events of the last summer which had left the present operationsfree from the threat which had then overshadowed all their efforts. 

It had been a bad time, a bad time for them all. But for Jeff--ah, ithad been touch and go. How near, perhaps, it was only now, after longmonths had passed, and a proper perspective had been obtained, that thefull extent of his narrow escape could be estimated. 

It had been Christmas before Jeff was completely out of the hands ofthe surgeon they had had to obtain from Calthorpe. For three months ofthat time he had hovered between life and death. Nor had his troublebeen confined solely to his physical hurts. No, these had been sore:they had been grievous in the extreme. Three times wounded, and hisface, and hands, and arms badly burned. But half of his trouble hadbeen the mental sufferings he had endured as a result of his marriage, and the final tragedy of Evie's death. 

Now, as Bud looked back on that time, two things stood out beyond allthe rest. It was the desperate courage--even madness he called it--ofJeff, and the superlative devotion of Nan. 

He had by no means understood all that Jeff had achieved at the momentof his rescue. It was not till long after, by a process of closequestioning, that the magnitude of it became plain. Then the marvel ofit dawned on him. The courage, the madness of it. Jeff had rid thedistrict of the whole gang of rustlers single-handed. He had shot fiveof them to death, and the last two had fallen victims to his own, Bud's, gun after they had been wounded by Jeff. 

Then had followed that period when Nan had stepped into the picture. With pride, and a great satisfaction, he remembered her weeks andmonths of devotion to the injured man. Her sleepless, tireless watch. Her skill and patient tenderness. These things had been colossal. Tohim it had been a vision of a mother's tender care for an ailing child. And the thought of it now stirred him to a touch of bitterness in hisfeelings toward his partner and friend. 

To Bud there could only be one possible end to such a wealth ofdevotion as his little Nan had displayed, but it seemed that all hisideas on the subject must be wrong. To his uncomprehending mind theyseemed no nearer to each other than in the days before a mad passionhad seized upon Jeff for the woman he had married. 

Bud was very human. His patience had its limits, and just now theyseemed to have been reached. He admitted this to himself frankly. Hetold himself he had "no durned patience with the bunch. " And the bunchincluded both Nan and Jeff. He felt that Nan, too, must be to blame insome way. 

He had "no durned patience with the bunch. " Therein lay the key-noteof his mixed feelings. Here everything was prospering but the onething above all others upon which he had set his heart. He felt asthough he must "butt in" and put matters right himself. How, he didnot attempt to suggest. But he felt that if he did not do so, orsomething or other did not occur to precipitate matters, the "wholedurned shootin' match was li'ble to peter. "

This was how he saw things. This was how he felt, as he awaited Nan'sreturn from the pastures. 

She came at last. She rode up and passed her weary horse to abarn-hand who promptly waited upon her. She was covered with dust toher waist. Her top-boots were white with it. But her cheeks were asfresh as peach bloom, and her soft eyes shone with all a ranchman'senthusiasm at the most exhilarating period of the year. 

"One hundred an' forty-two young Obars to-day, my Daddy, " she cried outexuberantly. "Ther' don't seem any end to last year's crop. Say, Jeff's just crazy to death about things. "

"He surely is. "

The old man's reply was tinged by a reflection of his thoughts. Buthis eyes lit nevertheless. 

Nan regarded him seriously. 

"Most men get a grouch when they're kept waiting food, " she observedslily. "Say, come right in an' you'll soon feel the world's a mightygood place to live in. "

Instantly Bud's humor improved. 

"Guess you do your best to make it that way. "

The girl laughed as she led the way in. 

"That surely is a pretty nice talk, my Daddy. Guess I'll takeadvantage of it, an' keep you waiting another three minutes while I getrid of the dust. "

Her father nodded. 

"Jeff comin' up?" he inquired. 

The girl shook her head. For a moment the smiling eyes were hiddenbeneath their lids. 

"Not for supper. He's gone on to the branding 'pinch. '"

She was gone before her father could reply, and he was left to his ownreflections, which were still further inspired by impatience. 

Well enough he knew the arduous nature of the work. Had he not been atit himself since the first streak of dawn? But he felt that Jeff wasgoing beyond the bounds of necessity. Even beyond the bounds of reason. 

However, he was not given much time to nurse any imaginary grievance. For Nan reappeared after a surprisingly short interval, and thetransformation she had achieved was not a little startling. Her dustyriding suit had given place to a pretty house frock of some softlyclinging material which restored to her at once the charm of heressential femininity. The pretty brown of her eyes, and the wavysoftness of her hair became indescribably charming in such a setting. Bud regarded her with warm approval, and his spirits rose. 

"Jeff's coming right up after he's eaten, " she said, as they look theirplaces at the table. "He's getting the food he needs at the bunkhouse. He guesses he hasn't time to get supper right. "

"Ah. "

The announcement gave Bud more pleasure than his monosyllable admitted. His eyes once more took in the picture Nan made as she sat behind thesteaming coffee urn at the head of the table. And somehow the changeshe had made became less startling. 

The meal was the customary ranch supper. The table was simply loadedwith cold meats, and sweets, and cakes of varied description. The farewas homely but plentiful, and, to these simple-living people, it wasall that was required. Bud helped himself liberally, while Nan pouredout the fragrant coffee. 

"We ought to be through in a week now, " Nan said, passing a heavy chinacup of coffee across to her father. "Jeff figures we're well up onaverage in spite of the stock we lost last summer. It's pretty good tothink--after that time. Say, Daddy, we owe Jeff a pretty big thing. "

The old man looked up with a smile. 

"Guess the owin' ain't all with us, " he said, with his mouth full. 

Nan paused in the act of sipping her coffee. Her eyes were full ofincredulity. 

"I don't understand, Daddy, " she said frankly. "We owe more to Jeffthan ever. Much more. He came pretty near handing over his poor lifeso the Obar might prosper. He cleared out that gang who would havedone the Obar to death. A man can't give more to--his friends. "

Bud remained unconvinced. He shook his great head and his smiledeepened to a twinkle of real amusement. 

"That's so, " he said. "But he didn't just give that poor life of his. I allow he was ready to because--because, wal, I guess he's built in aright fashion. We owed him for that sure. But I 'low he's been paidin a way it don't fall to every feller's lot to git paid. You paidthat score for us both, an' if ther's any debt left over to be paid, why I guess I'm ready to pay it. " He chuckled. "You know, Nan, woman's a ticklish proposition. Ther's wise highbrows guess theyhanded out all ther' is to say 'bout women-folk, an' I figger some hasused elegant langwidge, an' made pretty talk. But they ain't said itall, an' ain't never likely to ef they was to yarn the whole way fromhere to hell an' back. I'm gettin' older most every day, an' maybe Ioughter git wiser. But ef I was to live till the great round-up Idon't guess I'd ever learn the limits of a woman's self-sacrifice ferthem she takes the notion to mother. An' it don't matter if it's herown folk, or her beau, or her man, or some pestilential kid she'srescued from drownin' in a churn of cream she's jest fixed ready ferbutter makin'. Wot Jeff don't owe you fer haulin' him right back intothe midst of life, why I guess you couldn't find with one of themthings crazy highbrows wastes otherwise valuable lives in lookin' atbugs with. "

Nan laughed, but her denial came swiftly. 

"Jeff doesn't owe me a thing, " she declared. "The wasn't a soul elsearound to nurse him. I'd have hated handing him on to you. " Then shesighed, but her eyes shone with a light which her father well enoughunderstood. "I--I needed to nurse him. If I hadn't been able to, why, I think I'd have just died. But he don't owe me a thing--not a thing. "

Bud took a great gulp of coffee and set his cup down with a clatter. His deep gurgling laugh was good to hear. 

"That ain't no argyment, " he cried, his deep eyes twinkling. "You'vejest said the things I hadn't savvee to put into words right. Woman'sjest a sort of angel come right down from Heaven on a snowflake. Shesure is. Ther' ain't no reason to her. Set her around a sick bed withphysic she ken hand on to the feller lyin' there, an' ther' ain't nolimit to wot she can do. It's a passion. You can't blame her. She'sfixed that way. She'll just nurse that feller in a way that makes himfeel he wants to start right in trundlin' a wooden hoop, or blowin' apainted trumpet, hanging on to her hand, same as he did before he quitactin' foolish on his mother's lap. It kind o' seems to me a mortalwonder women don't set their men-folk actin' queer settin' aside arailroad track guessin' they're advertisements fer a new hair-wash, orsome other fancy dope. I guess women is the greatest proposition everstep out o' the Garden of Eden--someways. "

Nan laughed happily. 

"That's spoiled it, Daddy, " she cried. "Why not leave it at the Gardenof Eden?"

Bud laughingly shook his head. 

"Why for should I?" he retorted. "If they're angels they ain't allhalo an' wings. Anyway, she did step out o' the Garden. An' thoughthe committee ast her to vacate, I allow it was a mighty good thing ferthe human race, or we'd all be eatin' grass still, or some otherperfectly ridiculous cattle feed. No siree! She ain't all halo an'wings, or us men 'ud be settin' around all the time shoutin' hymnsdoleful instead of enjoyin' ourselves lyin' awake at nights figgerin'to beat the other feller's play. Woman's jest woman, an' thediff'rences in her is just what a mighty tough world makes of her. Maybe she's foolish. Maybe she ain't. Anyway, she's got most thingsagin her to make her that way, an' it seems to me a yeller dawg don'thave much the worst of the game. No. I guess woman's jest woman, an'us men needs to git right on our knees and thank Providence that is so. "

Bud reattacked his supper. There had been impatience as well asamiability in his denial. For all his regard for his partner he couldnot allow Nan her absurd self-effacement without protest. None knewbetter than he the extent of his debt to Jeff for ridding the Obar ofthe rustlers. But Jeff, he also knew, owed his life to the devotion, the skill, the love of this girl upon whom he had no claim. 

He remained silent now, lost in thoughts he dared not impart to Nan, and the girl herself had nothing to say. She, too, was thinking. Butthere was no impatience in her thoughts. 

She was thinking of a moment which had occurred down at the pastures. A moment just before her return home to supper. To her it had been amoment of compensation for everything which she had ever suffered, amoment when the whole aspect of her life had been suddenly changed to aradiant vision of happiness. 

She had been standing beside Jeff watching the work of the boys withinthe pastures. Their talk had all been of the business of the day. There had been no other sign between them. The old comradeship aloneseemed to prevail. Then they had turned away, with their talksilenced. They had moved toward their horses which were standing inthe shadow of a small bluff. 

Just as they came up Jeff had paused, and turned, and looked down ather from his superior height. She would never forget that look. Itwas the look she had seen in his eyes when he first gazed on the beautyof the woman he had married. Her heart was set thumping in her bosomas she thought of it now. A deep flush surged to her cheeks, and shekept her head studiously bent over her plate. 

Then had followed a great impulsive abandoning of his usual reserve. It had been so unusual in him, but to Nan so natural. It seemed asthough of a sudden some great barrier between them had been thrustaside by emotions beyond the man's control. He had flung out his handstoward her, and, before she knew what was happening, she felt theirpassionate pressure under the buckskin gauntlets she was wearing. Thenhad come words, rapid, even disjointed; again to her so natural, yetstrange, awkward on the lips of this man. 

"Say, little Nan, " he cried, "we've won out. Look at 'em. Thepastures. They're full. Fuller than we ever guessed they'd be afterlast year. Things are running same as we've dreamed. The Obar's goingup--up. And--it's all too late. "

On the warm impulse of the moment she had answered him without a secondthought. 

"Why--why is it too late?"

Her hands were still held in his passionate grasp. He laughed abitter, mirthless laugh. 

"Why, because--because I've wakened out of a passionate nightmare torealize all I've--lost. "

She had abruptly withdrawn her hands. She remembered the curious chillwhich suddenly seemed to pass through her body. But she answered himsimply, earnestly. 

"You mustn't blame yourself for all you've lost, Jeff, " she said. "Maybe Evie loved you better than you knew. But she--she, too, was toblame. You must try to forget. "

Then had happened something so startling that even now she could hardlycredit it. Jeff had turned away. His face was toward the hills wherethe setting sun still lit the fastnesses in which lay the fatefulSpruce Crossing. His words came shortly, simply. 

"I wasn't thinking of--Evie, " he said. "The memory of her, of allthat, has gone--forever. "

Oh, the bewilderment of that moment. Nan remembered the absurdity ofher reply now with something very like panic:

"Who--what--were you thinking of then?"

"Who--what?" The man's eyes lit with a deep, passionate yearning. "Why, little Nan, the only person who is ever in my thoughts now--you. "

It had come so simply yet so full of scarcely restrained passion. Would she ever forget? Never, never. Her emotions had been beyondwords. She wanted to weep. She wanted to laugh. But more than allshe wanted to flee before he could utter another word. She turned toher horse without a word. In a moment she was in the saddle, and hadturned the creature about to ride off. But Jeff's voice stayed her. 

"Say, little Nan, I----" he broke off. "Oh, I guess I'll eat at thebunkhouse. I haven't time for supper right. I've got to get down tothe branding pinch. Say, Nan, " a sudden deep urging had filled hisvoice, and he came to her horse's side and laid a detaining hand uponits reins. "Can I come along up--later? I didn't mean to make youmad. True. I couldn't help it. I---- May I come along--after I getthrough?"

It had been utterly impossible for her to make articulate reply. Heremotions were too deep, too overwhelming. She had simply nodded herhead. And in that trifling movement she knew she had conveyed a signbeyond all misunderstanding. 

After that the woman had impelled her. She hurriedly rode off, fearingshe knew not what. She knew she fled, incontinently fled. And herfirst act on arrival home had been to rid herself of the almost mannishsuit in which she worked, so that Jeff, when he made his appearance, might find her the woman she really was. 

The voices of the men on the veranda reached Nan within the parlor. She did not want to listen. She told herself so. Besides, she had aperfect right to remain where she was. And, anyway, Bud had no secretsfrom her. So she placed herself beyond the chance of observation, andremained quiet lest she should lose a word of what the voices weresaying. 

Bud was talking. His tone and words rumbled pleasantly upon theevening air. His talk was of the round-up. It was the talk of a manwedded to the life of the western plains. It was the talk of a man whois conscious of success achieved in spite of great difficulties andtrials. There was a deep note of satisfaction in all he said. 

Jeff's voice sounded at intervals. A lighter note. His answers wereprecise, as was his way. But they lacked the enthusiasm of the other. It was as though his thoughts were traveling far afield, while his earssubconsciously conveyed the other's talk to a brain ready to formulateadequate reply. 

Apparently, however, this abstraction impressed itself upon the otherat last, for presently Nan heard her father challenge him in his directfashion. 

"Feelin' beat, eh?"

Nan pictured the steady gaze of her father's deep-set inquiring eyes ashe put the question. 

"No. "

The reply came without hesitation. It was simple, definite. Again thepicture presented itself to Nan. Jeff, she felt, was gazing out intothe twilight, absorbed in the thoughts which held him. She knew theattitude. She had seen it so often before. 

It was Bud's voice which broke the silence that followed. 

"Guess the work's pretty tough, " he said. "You don't need to fergityou bin a mighty sick man. If you do, why, you'll be li'ble to findyourself on Nan's hands again. "

"I couldn't wish for better. "

The reply had come on the instant. It must have warned even Bud thathe had found a key to the man's abstraction. 

"That's so--sure. "

The emphasis was unmistakable. Nan waited almost breathlessly in adelicious condition of apprehension. 

"Wher's Nan?"

Jeff's demand came sharply. 

"Som'eres around inside. "

"I came up to see her. "

"So?"

"Yes. "

The lowing of the cattle in the pastures was dying with the deepeningtwilight. The calves seemed to have found their mothers and all wascontentment. Nan glad of the growing shadows. For her, obscurity theonly thing just now. 

Jeff's voice again broke the silence. There was something utterlysimple in the manner of his words. 

"I love Nan, Bud, " he said. "I want to tell her so. If she'd marryme, I don't guess there'd be a thing left worth asking for. But Idon't guess she will. Why should she? I'm not worth her. Gee! But Iwant her bad. "

Nan buried her face in her hands. Then she drew back, back, far intothe dusk of the room. But she could not escape the voices. 

Bud's answer came slowly, deliberately. There was a curious note ofemotion in it. 

"You sure aren't. No man is. Ther' ain't a feller on earth worthy mylittle Nan. But it's up to her. Guess she's around inside som'eres. "

There was the sound of swift footsteps on the veranda. Nan drewfurther back into the room. The far wall alone stayed her progress. The door was to her hand, but she made no attempt to avail herself ofit. Oh, those delicious moments of terror. It seemed to her as ifevery joy of life was concentrated in them. Her breath came pantingly. The moments became insupportable. 

Suddenly a figure, tall, slim, filled the open window. Swift as aflash the mind of the girl went back to the long months of nursing whenhe had lain helpless in her hands. He had been hers then in hishelplessness. Now, in his full manhood's strength, he was coming toher again. A choking sensation seized her, a mist grew before her eyes. 

"Nan!"

The tone of it The softness. The thrilling passion. 

"Yes, Jeff. "

The answer was low, almost inaudible. 

Nor did the man have to search the darkened room. The love which hehad for so long thrust aside was--waiting for him.